And then, like a living wave of teeth and chaos, two dozen of them burst from the shadows, tearing through the snow in a wild, rabid surge.

Far behind them, sitting with sickening calm, the leader simply watched Sant — unmoving, confident, almost entertained by the massacre about to unfold.

The first strike came from the left flank, fast as an arrow.

But Lira was faster: she collided with the jackal mid-air, slamming it into the ground before it even got close to the pups.

On the opposite side, five jackals surrounded Ravik.

The strongest wolf of the pack didn’t hesitate.

He leapt into the middle of them, roaring like a storm.

One jackal jumped over his head — but Ravik twisted his body, slammed himself against a tree, used the rebound for momentum, and crashed down on the attacker, tearing its neck apart as his claws ripped open another.

Snow flew.

Blood too.

Beside him, Naja was pure compressed chaos.

Dark as the night, fast as a viper, she charged two jackals at once, screaming:

“HAHAHAHAHAHA! I’LL RIP YOUR TAIL OFF AND MAKE YOU SWALLOW IT! WHILE I BATHE IN THE BLOOD OF YOUR ALLIES!”

It was terrifying…

How could such a small, fragile-looking wolf be so brutal?

With one precise leap, she sliced open a jackal’s belly in a single swipe. Intestines spilled steaming onto the snow.

But in a quick slip, another enemy managed to sink its teeth into her shoulder.

Naja shrieked — not in pain, but in fury.

She twisted, tore herself free with a violent roll, and lunged back in, eyes wild, her insane grin painted red.

Across the field, Varrock faced three jackals at once.

He moved as if he could predict every strike before it happened.

Dodging, spinning, shoving — and in a single, exact movement, he bit one by the tail and hurled it into the second.

The third tried to exploit the gap, but Varrock met it with a crushing bite to the shoulder that dropped it instantly.

Further back, Moc was living fury.

He clamped his jaws around a jackal’s leg just as another leapt onto his back.

Moc rolled hard, crushing the attacker beneath him, then slashed downward with his paw, carving a deep wound that painted the snow crimson.

Bork spotted a jackal sneaking toward the elders.

The fat wolf shot forward like a living war-car, surprisingly fast for his size.

He rammed the jackal, bit, clawed — a wall of flesh and strength between danger and the old ones.

Tuja and Rose Tail fought side by side against four jackals, defending the Roses’ circle.

Rose Tail moved with fierce elegance, almost dancing.

Tuja, skinny and nimble, weaved between attacks with clever footwork.

When a jackal leapt onto Tuja’s back, Rose Tail vaulted over her and yanked the invader off with a snap of her jaws.

Near the center, Sant held off three of the strongest jackals, blocking them from reaching the Roses and the elders.

Aemi and Inuho fought together, almost like a single creature — always covering each other’s blind spots.

The battle grew.

Pups cried.

The smell of fear and blood thickened the air.

Then Gohan, old and exhausted, let out a defiant howl:

“NOBODY TOUCHES LIRAL!!! AAAAAAAAAH!”

With a shockingly fast leap for his age, he landed on three jackals threatening the sweet, blind elder.

In the midst of the chaos,
a jackal lunged toward Eldros, the oldest of the elders.

Loona saw it first.

Even without claws, without strength, without training — she ran.

She grabbed a rock from the snow and hurled it with all her small, wild courage.

The stone struck the jackal’s head, dazing it.

Loona threw herself onto its neck on pure instinct.

Gohan reached her in seconds, laughing proudly:

“Good one, pup!”

Then he finished the jackal with a swift strike.

But while everyone fought, Ame slipped away.

Too small.
Too light.
Too unnoticed in the chaos of war.

Naja, blood-streaked and ecstatic with adrenaline, ripped a jackal’s tail off in her jaws, shoved it into the enemy’s mouth, and shouted:

“NOW SWALLOW THIS, YOU RAT-DROPPING PILE OF FILTH!”

Her words echoed as blood sprayed.

The few surviving jackals pulled back, growling low, waiting for the next command.

But five of them spotted Ame before the wolves did.

And they ran for the pup.

Aemi and Inuho noticed her absence too late.

“Ame!” Aemi screamed.

Both sprinted — but when they arrived…

…Ame was surrounded.

A circle of five jackals, teeth bared.

The tiny pup, only one moon and eleven days old, trembled — but she growled.

A small sound.
An innocent sound.

And then… it happened.

Without knowing what she was doing, driven purely by primal instinct, Ame released the Predator’s Presence.

It felt as if the air itself tore apart.

An invisible wave swept through the forest.

Squirrels scattered.

Mice vanished into holes.

Birds erupted into flight as if fleeing a legendary beast.

And even the jackals…

…ran.

All of them.

Inuho felt the pressure crush his chest.

Aemi gasped, air punched out of her lungs.

Sant, far away, stiffened to the bone.

“No… not another pack?!” he growled, alarmed by the overwhelming force.

But it wasn’t another pack.

It was just Ame.

And while everyone tried to understand what had just happened…

The little pup sat down calmly and began chewing on her left paw as if nothing at all had happened.

Inuho sprinted first.

Chest still heaving from battle, he ran to her as if nothing else existed.

Aemi followed, wide-eyed, trying to comprehend what Ame had just unleashed.

“Ame…” she murmured, breathless, stunned.

Inuho grabbed the pup gently by the scruff. Ame only swung her tiny paws in the air, indifferent, as if she still felt the fading echo of her own crushing aura.

They ran back toward the pack.

Before they reached it, they heard Sant shout:

“On guard! Urgent! There’s another pack nearby! We need to—”

Aemi cut him off:

“Sant! It’s not another pack!”

“It was Ame. She did that!”

Silence fell like a stone.

Sant turned slowly, eyes widening with an expression he almost never showed: pure astonishment.

“What? That’s impossible…” he murmured, voice barely there. “The energy required… even I couldn’t release something that massive without collapsing!”

Aemi shook her head, equally lost:

“I know. But she’s not even tired. Not at all.”

Inuho set Ame on the snow.

The pup immediately sat…

…and resumed chewing her paw, as if the world weren’t spiraling around her.

Sant stared, stunned.

“The dream…” he whispered. “That dream you said you had about her… maybe…”

But the words died before taking shape.

There was no answer.

No logic.

A savage roar tore the air.

Naja, bloodied and glowing with adrenaline, threw her head back and howled in celebration.

The whole pack answered in victorious howls — except Mara, Varrock, Aemi, and Sant, who remained stiff, serious, far too tense to celebrate.

Sant finally raised his voice, firm and commanding:

“Attention! I will conduct the Ritual of the Night of the Moon.

Varrock, Aemi, Ame, and Loona — come with me.

I’ll return at dawn.

Healers, tend the wounded.

Warriors, secure the perimeter.

We need answers — urgently.”

But the victory howls continued echoing, ignoring the gravity of what had just happened.

Sant glanced at Aemi — and at Ame, still chewing her paw like it was just a toy.

Fear took shape in his chest.

Not fear of the jackals.

Not fear of battle.

But fear of the terrible mystery carried by that tiny pup.