The Hunt

VIOLET

The night is restless.

Wind howls through the trees, stirring the embers of my dying fire as the forest whispers around me. The scent of damp earth and decay lingers in the air, a reminder that I am no longer within the safety of human lands.

I sit with my knees drawn to my chest, my dagger resting loosely in my grip. Wolf sleeps beside me, his breath steady despite the wound on his side. He's strong—stronger than I give him credit for. But even he won't be enough to protect me from what's coming.

The Demon wolf_Alpha Zain.

The name alone sends a shiver down my spine.

I don't have a plan, will I just walk up to him and slice his throat with my dagger.

I let out a dry laugh.

As if I could even get passed his army of warriors, and even if the gods have it and I Miraculously did.....I still can't walk up to him and kill him.

Hell, he'll sense me even thou I'm hundred miles away from him.

Maybe he even knows I'm coming for him now.

I exhale, closing my eyes for just a moment. My body aches from the fight with the bear, exhaustion creeping into my limbs. But sleep is dangerous. Out here, lowering your guard for even a second can mean death.

Something rustles in the underbrush.

My eyes snap open.

Wolf stirs beside me, his ears twitching.

I grip my dagger, heart pounding as I scan the darkness beyond the firelight. The trees shift, their long shadows swaying against the ground. The silence that follows is thick—too thick.

Then, I hear it.

A low, guttural growl.

I move slowly, rising to my feet as my breath fogs in the cold air. Wolf is already standing, hackles raised, his body tense.

We are not alone.

I tighten my grip on my dagger and step forward. "Who's there?"

"Show yourself."

The growl deepens. Then, from the shadows, a pair of golden eyes emerge.

Not a wolf. Not a bear.

A mountain lion.

Massive, sleek, and lethal, its muscles coil beneath tawny fur as it stalks forward, its gaze locked onto me.

"Oh for fuck sake, I can't even get a moment of peace." I murmured, grabbing my knife.

I hold my ground, my pulse hammering in my throat. If I run, it will chase me. If I hesitate, I am dead.

Wolf lets out a warning snarl, stepping between me and the predator. But the mountain lion doesn't back down.

I slowly lower myself, grabbing a fistful of dirt in my free hand.

The cat crouches, ready to strike.

I move first.

With a sharp twist, I hurl the dirt at its face. It recoils with a hiss, blinded for a moment—just long enough for me to lunge.

My blade slashes across its shoulder, but it's not deep enough. The lion roars, swiping at me with claws that catch the edge of my cloak, nearly knocking me off my feet.

Wolf lunges next, snapping at its hind leg.

The beast twists, sinking its teeth into Wolf's scruff, yanking him off the ground.

"No!"

I throw myself forward, driving my dagger deep into its side. The lion shrieks, releasing Wolf as it stumbles back. Blood stains the ground, dark and thick.

It doesn't attack again.

Instead, it glares at me, tail lashing—then, with a sharp exhale, it turns and vanishes into the forest.

I drop to my knees beside Wolf, running my hands over his fur. He whines but licks my wrist, as if to tell me he's fine.

My chest heaves. I wipe my dagger clean on my cloak, my hands still shaking.

That was too close.

If I keep running into creatures like this, I won't make it to Alpha Zain—I'll be dead long before I find him.

By morning, I am back in the saddle, Wolf trotting beside me. The air is thick with the scent of damp leaves and distant rain. My body aches, but I push forward.

Two days have passed since I left home. Two days of blood, exhaustion, and an ever-growing sense of unease.

The deeper I travel into these lands, the more I feel it.

A presence.

It lingers in the air, unseen yet suffocating, like a storm waiting to break.

My father used to say that the lands near the Shadow Peak belonged to monsters. That no hunter who ventured too far ever returned.

Now, as I cross a ridge overlooking an endless stretch of darkened trees, I understand why.

The forest ahead is different.

The trees are taller, their trunks twisted and ancient. Mist clings to the earth, curling around the roots like ghostly fingers. Even the air feels heavier, laced with something unnatural.

Wolf growls low in his throat.

"I know," I whisper. "Something's wrong."

And then I hear it.

A howl.

Not just any howl.

Deep. Resonant.

Werewolves.

My pulse spikes.

I guide my horse down the ridge, staying close to the shadows of the trees. I should turn back—should wait until nightfall to move through this part of the forest.

But then, I see them.

Not one. Not two.

But an entire pack.

Moving through the trees with silent, lethal grace.

Their fur varies in shades—black, gray, silver—but their eyes all gleam with the same inhuman glow. They move as one, communicating without words, their power rolling through the air in thick waves.

They haven't seen me yet.

I hold my breath, gripping the reins tighter. My father's voice echoes in my head.

Wolves hunt in packs. You will not survive if you are caught alone.

I need to move.

But before I can, one of them stops.

A large, dark-furred wolf with amber eyes.

It lifts its nose.

And then, its gaze snaps directly to me.

My blood runs cold.

For a moment, neither of us moves.

Then—

The wolf throws back its head and howls.

The others turn.

And I know, without a doubt—

I have been spotted.