Black leaves swayed slowly in the wind, and Matthaeus' long, black hair echoed the motion, though the rest of him was held still like he had been frozen in ice. Everything moved in slow motion as a headache-like pressure built in the back of his head, and the beating of his heart subtly grew faster. Vaguely, he could hear Reyland and Griffith making noise around him, and a long, beastly howl rolling across the hills, but he couldn't bring himself to focus on any of it.

He took a single step forwards towards that beautiful, towering black tree. Its bark was black as night, nothing like any of the other trees around it. Even from a distance, he could see that not a single leaf on its branches was wilted. It was perfect.

But as he stepped out into the clearing, a sudden gust of wind startled him, so powerful it knocked him off balance before he could take another step.

Why did he suddenly feel ill? A pit of unease had grown in his stomach, but nothing else felt strange. He wasn't afraid at all, if anything, he felt... peaceful. The swaying of the tree was hypnotic, its branches were held out as if waiting for an embrace, and his own heart was racing in... just what was it racing for, again?

Another gust of wind blew past him, sending his hair flying uncomfortably into his face, and breaking his line of sight with the tree. As that happened, another feeling came over him. A comfort. Warm, solid pressure at his back, and a woman's voice that was so familiar, yet frustratingly unknown. It was just the barest memory of the voice, but it was enough.

He stumbled backwards, taking a deep, gasping breath and blinking for the first time in what felt like ages. He looked at the tree now with new eyes, feeling his headache receed rapidly.

The tree was disgusting. Its bark wasn't just a jet black, but seemed almost covered in slime, dripping and oozing from cracks in the bark like weeping wounds. Its branches were entangled with vines that held large fruit the same colour as the bark, and the sight of them reminded him uncomfortably of a spider's eggsack. Even the leaves looked wrong, their jet black colour made them look more akin to crow feathers.

Now that his head was clear again, Matthaeus noticed something odd, as well. From near the roots of the tree, several of the vines that entangled the tree ran off along the ground... and into the river? He would normally never have noticed something like that, but after being so hyper focused on the tree, it drew his attention immediately. Were they acting like roots and bringing more water to the tree, or maybe..?

A rough hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he was shocked out of his thoughts by the sudden presence of Reyland right behind him.

"Oi, just what're ya thinkin, walking out like that?" Reyland reprimanded, keeping his voice in a whisper. Matthaeus could make out the traces of an accent creeping into the older boys voice, even though it was a foreign language. "We've gotta get ourselves movin, fore them beasts show up, you hear?" He aggressively pointed out at the hills from where, as Matthaeus noticed for the first time, the howls of now dozens of wolves could be heard.

Matthaeus didn't understand a word of what he said, but it didn't take a genius to figure out their meaning. He gave a hurried nod, and the two quickly made their way back to Griffith.

As he left the clearing, he spared a glance back at the tree. Nothing had changed, of course, but still his heart picked up its pace again for a second the moment he laid eyes on it. Its branches waved back, creaking ominously in the wind.

"Reyland, take lead. I'll guard the rear. We don't stop for anything until we're back at the church, understand?" Griff ordered.

"Aye mate, don't need to tell me twice."

Without another word they started running, the calls growing closer by the second. What had started as the unmistakable howls of wolves had quickly changed, becoming aggressive barking and excited yips. They were close enough now that individual beasts could be heard apart from the pack, slowly spreading out to either side of the group. 

Matthaeus shivered as he heard a snarl, not from behind them, but from directly to the right, running alongside them. It was still far enough away that he couldn't see it, but how long would that last?

They came to a skittering stop as Reyland reached the cliff's edge, and Matthaeus eyed the drop warily. It looked much higher from the top down than it had on the way up. 

"Don't think about the height. Just one foothold, then the next," Griff said in the boy's native language, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. 

Matthaeus nodded slowly, sitting on the edge of the cliff and turning himself around, the slightly-too-big boots he had been given struggling to find purchase on the smoother parts of the stone surface. Had it been this difficult going up, too?

Suddenly, a horrible feeling washed over him, as his stomach plummeted. He didn't know how he knew, but he opened his mouth to scream a warning at Griffith...

...Right as a black wolf leaped out of the bushes, fangs aimed right for his throat. 

Even though Matthaeus didn't have time to say a word, the man was still ready, as if he had known it was coming all along. He raised a single arm up in defense, and the beast's massive jaws clamped onto his forearm... and did nothing?

Matthaeus watched in shock as the man almost calmly reached behind his back, drew the menacingly large knife at his belt, and sunk it into the beasts neck in a single motion. The wolf didn't even have time to land... it was dead before the weight of its body had even reached the man. 

Griff twisted his torso to the side, elbowing the creature in the jaw with the arm that was still clenched in its jaws, and guided its weight away from him, where it crashed into the earth without so much as a yelp. The fangs came loose as it sailed past, tearing a gash through his heavy black jacket deep enough to reveal a solid, unscathed plate of armour underneath. 

Matthaeus was still frozen. The entire thing had happened in barely a second, and the warning he never got to speak was still lingering on his lips. 

Griff calmly wiped the blood from his knife off on his pants at the thigh, leaving a dull, rusty red stain. His knife was back in the sheath a moment later, and aside from the corpse of the beast laying on the ground, it was as if nothing had happened. 

"One foothold, then the next, child," Griff said, his eyes slowly watching the treeline behind them. 

Matthaeus nodded, though the man couldn't see him, and quickly found his first foothold, then the next, and the next...