Their voices were whispers now. The sound of boots against the earth and the swords hanging at their waists were the only things that could be heard.
They had gone deep enough into the forest when Valir raised a silent hand for them to stop. He turned toward them in warning, signaling them not to make a sound. His eyes lingered on her for one moment longer.

She nodded silently.

With his hand, he pointed toward the tracks ahead of them.

Broken branches. Footprints larger than usual.

“This is not ordinary wolf movement,” one of the instructors whispered.

Valir crouched and touched the deep imprint in the ground. His expression was serious, focused. “They’re scattered. They’re not moving as a pack,” he said. “Something frightened them.”

Lyra did not speak. It was not her place. She did not even know what to do. She was a doctor. She had come along only in case they needed her, and now she hoped nothing would happen.

She watched carefully.

Listened to the low conversations.

Then she smelled it.

A faint metallic scent hung in the air.

Blood.

Valir looked at her for a moment, as if he had understood that she had noticed it too.

“Stay close,” he said quietly.

Roland and Karl were walking beside her now.

They moved even deeper into the forest.

Guided by the heavy tracks and the unmistakable smell of iron, they reached a shallow hollow. Through a narrow break in the trees, a dark pool was visible behind the bushes.

One of the instructors approached first and stopped abruptly.

“Sir...”

Valir stepped forward. Lyra followed, and then she saw it.

Behind the bushes, lying in a pool of blood, was one of the wolves of Ulvenwood.
Even dead, it was enormous. Its body lay on its side, its fur matted with blood. Its massive jaws remained half-open, as if it had tried to bite its opponent until the very last moment.

But whatever had killed it... had not been an ordinary enemy. Deep, savage wounds had torn open its side. The flesh had been ripped apart as if by claws far larger than its own.

A shiver ran down Lyra’s spine. Something bitter rose in her throat.

If a creature like that, one of the beasts that ruled this forest, had been killed in such a way, then something else was in there.
Something bigger.
Something far more dangerous.

And for the first time since they had entered Ulvenwood, Lyra had the intense feeling that... something was watching them.

From the shadows between the trees came a low growl. One. Then another. Out of the half-darkness of Ulvenwood emerged a wolf. Like a vast shadow given form, it stood nearly as tall as a man.

Its body was built of muscle and thick, unruly fur that rose along its back like thorns. It pulsed with tension, as if the forest itself had birthed this creature to protect it.
Its head was lowered, its ears sharp and turned forward. Its eyes, narrow, cold, and full of intelligence, watched the world around it without a trace of fear.

When it opened its mouth, rows of long, sharp teeth were revealed. Its fangs gleamed in the dim forest light, capable of piercing skin, armor... or even bone. Its claws, long and curved, dug into the soil as it shifted its weight ever so slightly, leaving deep gouges in the ground.

The group remained still. Valir seemed to be calculating. He was assessing movements.

The wolf’s tail moved slowly behind it, with the confidence of a dominant predator.
And then, behind it, through the mist of Ulvenwood, more shadows appeared. Eyes.
Six silent shapes moved in a circle among the trees. It was not alone.

It was merely the first of the pack. They had not come out to hunt, but to defend, as if they were guarding the lifeless member of their pack.

The nearest knight had moved beside the dead wolf to examine it. The attack came quickly.

“Stay back!” Valir shouted to Lyra. “Positions!” he called to the others.

One of the predators lunged forward. It was so fast that for a moment it looked like nothing more than a dark shadow bursting from the bushes.

Lyra saw it half a second earlier. Her eyes widened.

“Right!”

The knight kneeling on the ground reacted instinctively. He threw himself aside at the very last possible moment as the enormous wolf swept past him.

It was not enough.

The beast’s claws, long, curved, and sharp as blades, caught the soldier’s arm. The fabric of his armor tore. The man groaned and dropped to one knee as blood began to flow. Had he been even a second slower, he would have lost his entire arm to the creature’s hooked claws.

In the chaos, she thought she heard Valir shouting something.

Her ears were ringing. Roland and Karl were shielding her, swords in hand, ready to strike.

The wolf turned back at once toward the instructor.

But it was too late.

Valir was faster.

With a decisive maneuver, he moved in front of the wounded knight, his sword already in motion before the beast had even finished its leap.

The blade flashed in the dimness. The strike was precise.

His sword sank deep into the creature’s side.

The beast howled in pain and recoiled, its teeth bared and its eyes filled with savage fury.

The other wolves froze for a moment. Then, almost at the same time, they began to retreat into the shadows of Ulvenwood.

The forest swallowed them once more.

The growling faded among the trees, and silence returned.

Lyra moved quickly, without waiting for confirmation.

The wounded man groaned softly. Lyra knelt beside him. She lifted his bloodstained sleeve. Her hands moved with certainty.
Her movements were small, practiced, and decisive.
She cleaned the wound carefully, using clean gauze and alcohol.

The soldier’s entire body tensed.

“It isn’t serious. You’ll be fine,” she told him calmly, binding the wound with care.

When she finished, she lifted her head.
The other soldiers had gathered protectively around them.

Valir’s gaze was on her. She did not look away until he turned his attention back to the forest.

“We can’t stay here,” he said quietly. “We have to keep moving.”

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Thank you for reading "Rookie of the Wind".