The deer’s body had gone still. 

Steam rose faintly from the blood-soaked grass as the forest began to quiet again. 

The wolves fed in silence, tearing through what remained. The boy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his pulse finally slowing. 

The taste of iron lingered. His eldest wolf brother nudged him playfully, muzzle red, before darting off through the underbrush. The other two wrestled nearby, their growls echoing like thunder beneath the trees. 

The boy stood, glancing towards the dim outline of their home in the distance, a cave beneath a willow, half-camouflaged by vines and stone. The familiar scent of it drifted with the wind. 

He began walking, the wolves falling into step beside him, paws soft against the damp earth. 

Inside the willow cave, a shadow moved with quiet life. The mother wolf lay near the back. Her calm, steady gaze carried the weight of countless seasons. When the boy entered, she lifted her head. Her golden eyes met his. Affectionate. 

The two younger wolves continued their endless wrestling, rolling across the ground, while the eldest, bigger, steadier, stayed close to the boy’s side. They brushed shoulders, a wordless gesture of kinship. 

The mother rose. She circled the boy once, assessing him with eyes that seemed to see beyond fur and bone. Then, without a sound, she turned towards the forest again. 

He followed. 

They crossed valleys drowned in fog until the trees began to thin and the earth flattened into an open plain. The air smelled of mud and thunder. 

Through the fog stood a great, massive shape. 

A bison, its shoulders broad as boulders, hide scarred by seasons of survival. The mother wolf stopped. She glanced back at the boy and growled low, deep enough to rattle the soil. 

It wasn’t a threat, it was a warning. A command born of instinct. The lesson was clear: no tricks. No shortcuts. This was training.To teach him how to stand before something far greater than a mere deer. 

Then she turned away, fading back into the shadows of the trees. The boy stood alone. His breath shortened. The bison lifted its head, ears twitching.

He moved low, careful, feet sinking into wet soil. But the creature caught the scent, its head snapped towards him, eyes burning with wild light.

Something flickered inside him, an urge, deep and disobedient. A spark leapt from his fingertips, blue and harmless, fading as quickly as it came. He’d felt this before… a hum under his skin, a warning the forest hadn’t yet taught him to heed.

The sparkle barely grazed the wild beast. The boy froze. His instincts screamed to flee. The bison lowered its horns and lunged towards the boy. The weight difference would have crushed him with no explanation needed. 

He was a metre away from impact. Suddenly, a blur of grey slammed past him.

The mother wolf struck the bison’s neck with brutal precision, teeth sinking into the thick vein. The ground shook under their struggle… then stilled. Silence followed.

The boy stood trembling, chest heaving, staring at the fallen beast. The mother turned towards him, her muzzle dark with blood. 

Her growl was low, cutting through the rain-soaked air, not furious, but disappointed. His eyes dropped. 

His hands trembled. Then, she nudged him. Firmly. Her gaze shifted downward. He followed it, and saw it. At his feet, the grass was smoldering. Tiny tongues of flame flickered where the spark had touched. 

She pressed her paw over them, smothering the flame. He looked down, realizing what she meant; had he unleashed more, the forest could have caught fire.

He lowered his head. The mother’s anger softened. She leaned forward, licking the ash from his cheek before brushing past him towards home. The boy followed silently. 

Together, they turned back towards the cave. The willow branches swayed quietly as they disappeared inside. 

Then, from between the trees, a figure stepped into the fading light, tall, cloaked, human. A spectator between what some would have considered a failed David against Goliath. 

His gloved hand brushed over the soil until he found it, a small tuft of grey fur, caught between roots. He lifted it to his face and inhaled slowly, eyes closing as if savoring something sacred. A faint smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. 

The figure lingered there, silent, before fading back into the forest’s shadow. 

The woods, once alive with sound, seemed to hold its breath.