(Warning: This episode contains violence and blood that may upset some readers.)
Wox slowly stood up, his eyes meeting the beast’s burning gaze without a trace of fear.
“Do you want my blood too? Or perhaps my flesh?”
Wox’s voice came out dry, cracked, like he had not spoken in years. He bent down and picked up a dry branch lying nearby. Snapping it in half, he sharpened one end roughly against a jagged piece of bark before discarding the other half into the snow.
“Come then. If you have what it takes to take my flesh.”
The wolf lunged forward, its powerful body launching through the air, aiming for his throat.
The impact knocked Wox onto his back, the cold snow crushing beneath him as the beast landed on top of him. The wolf snapped its jaws viciously, trying to tear into his neck with its sharp fangs. But Wox thrust the sharpened branch forward, jamming it between the wolf’s jaws before its teeth could reach his neck.
The beast snarled, struggling against the barrier, its hot breath pouring over Wox’s face as it tried to break through. The wolf twisted its head, attempting to strike again from another angle. But Wox tightened his grip and, with the last of his strength, drove the sharpened branch upward.
The wood tore through fur and flesh, sinking into the muscle beneath. A burst of warm blood spilled out instantly, spreading across the white snow.
A furious snarl ripped from the wolf’s throat as blood began to stream down the wooden spike. The thick liquid ran along the branch and over Wox’s trembling hands, sliding across the silver bracelet on his wrist before dripping onto the torn wound on his chest.
But the wolf did not retreat. It bit down on his chest.
“AAAAARRRHHHH—!”
Wox screamed as the wolf’s fangs sank directly into the wound on his chest. Pain exploded through his body.
But he did not let go.
He ripped the spike out of the wolf’s neck, and stabbed it again.
This time the wood plunged deeper. The sharpened end tore violently through flesh, ripping the wolf’s neck muscles as it sank in.
Blood sprayed outward in a violent burst, splattering across Wox’s face, clothes, and hair.
The wolf’s grip loosened for a brief moment, and Wox seized the opportunity. He twisted his body and forced the beast off balance. Snow scattered beneath them as he rolled, throwing the wolf onto the ground and climbing over it.
Then he began stabbing the wolf.
Again. Again. And again.
Each strike drove deeper into the wolf’s neck, the wound widening with every blow. Blood poured from the wound, soaking the snow beneath them.
“Die! Die!” Wox’s voice broke into a hoarse roar as he stabbed.
The wooden spike struck the same place repeatedly, tearing the wound wider until fragments of flesh began to split apart under the relentless blows.
“Die, you beast!”
Blood splattered across his face and into his hair as the branch rose and fell again and again.
By now the wolf had stopped struggling. But Wox did not stop stabbing the lifeless body with blind fury. Every strike was his way of releasing the pain and rage of losing his sister.
Only when the strength finally left his arms did the branch slip from his hand and fall into the blood-soaked snow.
He sat there for a moment, breathing heavily. The snow around him was no longer white. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, but it only smeared the blood worse.
Then he turned his head toward his sister. She lay a few feet away, still and silent, her face peaceful in a way that made his chest cave in.
Wox’s legs trembled as he tried to stand. Instead, he dragged himself across the snow toward his sister, his hands leaving red trails behind him.
When he finally reached her, he gently lifted her head and rested it in his lap. The same way she had held him so many times when he was small.
Wox simply stared at her face. Then he clenched his fists.
“I promise, sis. I will become strong.” His fingers trembled as he brushed snow from her hair.
“I will find that monster… and I will kill him. I will give him a death so painful… he will beg for mercy he will never receive.”
He fell silent and held her closer. Then, softly, like a child who did not know what else to do, he began to cry as he called out to her.
“...Sis.”
“...Sis.”
“...Sis.”
“...Sis.”
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