The road to Harefield wound through countryside that grew more familiar with each step. Tro'go had been walking since early afternoon, his shortened cloak swishing pleasantly around his legs, Wolf's Bane comfortable on his shoulder. The elderly fisherman Garther had mentioned living in Harefield, and Tro'go found himself curious to see the place that such a kind man called home.

Night was claiming the countryside, shadows pooling in every hollow and dell. He did not mind the dark anymore. He'd been scared of it once, when he was small, but he knew better now.  His eyes worked well in it, better than most. If he couldn't see what was out there, more often than not, it couldn't see him either. He liked that.

He was just smiling to himself when he heard the voices ahead, not the cheerful chatter of fellow travellers, but sharp words edged with worry.

"—telling you, Gurttie, that wheel should have been checked before we left!"

"Don't you start with me, Harold! You're the one who said it would hold!"

Tro'go quickened his pace, rounding a bend to find a cart tilted at an awkward angle, its left rear wheel lying uselessly in the dirt road. A grey-haired woman was trying to calm a clearly agitated horse while her husband wrestled with the wayward wheel.

"Hello!" Tro'go called out, approaching with his most helpful smile. "Might I be of assistance?"

The woman, Gurttie, let out a sharp shriek at his sudden appearance. "Harold! There's some sort of... of ugly creature!"

"I'm a Greolen, actually," Tro'go said mildly, quite used to this reaction. "And a knight. Well, I'm going to be a knight. I'm practicing." He ignored their startled expressions and moved toward the horse, which was dancing nervously in its traces.

"Be off with you!" Harold brandished the wheel like a shield. "We've nothing worth stealing!"

Tro'go stopped in his tracks, his helpful smile fading as he looked between the hostile couple. He opened his mouth as if to respond, then seemed to think better of it. But when the horse whinnied in distress, tossing its head frantically, Tro'go's attention snapped immediately to the animal.

"Shh, shh," he murmured, stepping past Harold as if the man hadn't spoken. "What's frightening you so, boy?"

The couple began talking over each other, something about a large stone, the wheel, how it should have been checked, but their argument died abruptly at a sound that made the horse's eyes roll white with terror.

A howl, low and mournful, drifted from the gathering shadows at the road's edge.

"Oh," Tro'go said, patting the horse's neck soothingly. "That's why you're spooked."

Gurttie and Harold had gone very quiet. "Was that...?" Gurttie whispered.

"What are we going to do?" Harold added, his voice tight with fear.

The couple hastily lit four torches, their flickering light creating a small circle of safety in the growing dusk. As they worked, more sounds came from the darkness; the soft pad of feet on earth, the rustle of movement through undergrowth, and then the worst sound of all: silence.

The horse had gone completely still, not even breathing, it seemed. Its ears were pinned flat against its skull, and every muscle in its body was taut as a bowstring.

That's when the eyes appeared.

Gurttie's hands shook as she held her torch higher, trying to push back the darkness. The flame wavered, casting wild shadows that seemed to move independently of the firelight. There, at the very edge of the light, golden eyes watched them. Then another pair. And another.

A Greolen, Harold had called the creature. Was that what they looked like? So small and green, with those strange pointed ears. She'd heard stories, of course. Sneaky things, greolens were supposed to be. Always after something, always looking to steal what wasn't theirs. But this one...

The little creature stepped away from their cart, moving toward the darkness with purpose. He wasn't running. He wasn't cowering. If anything, he seemed... eager?

"You'll find no easy meal here, beasts!" the greolen shouted into the darkness, his voice carrying more confidence than any sensible person should feel. "I am Tro'go! This here is my sword; it has a name that it earned killing your kin. Wolf's Bane!"

Gurttie gasped as he swept that ancient-looking blade through the air. The sound it made was unlike anything she'd ever heard; a singing whistle that seemed to hang in the darkness longer than any earthly sound should.

The eyes in the shadows moved, circling them like death itself watching and waiting. How many were there? Three? Four? Five? More kept appearing, until the darkness seemed alive with watching predators.

"Harold," she whispered, clutching his arm. "There are so many..."

But the Greolen seemed unconcerned by the numbers. He swung his blade again, this time striking a stone in the road. The impact sent a shower of brilliant sparks cascading through the darkness like fallen stars, and for a moment the night was filled with dancing light.

"Did you see that, Harold!" she gasped, but her husband could only nod, speechless.

The wolves began to move then, flowing like liquid shadow around the edges of their torchlight. Gurttie could see them properly now; lean, powerful forms that seemed far too large to be ordinary wolves. They were testing the little knight, she realised, looking for weakness, for the moment when his courage would fail.

But Tro'go stood his ground, turning slowly to keep track of their movement. "Stay back!" he called, his voice cracking only slightly. "I warn you!"

One wolf, braver or perhaps hungrier than the rest, darted forward from the shadows. It moved with murderous intent, testing the reach of the greolen's blade before dancing back into the darkness. Tro'go spun to track its movement, his sword cutting an arc through the air that threw brilliant flashes of torchlight in all directions.

They're playing with him, Gurttie thought with growing horror. Like cats with a mouse. They'll tire him out, then rush him all at once. We'll have to watch him die, and then...

They'd stayed too long among the wildflowers, she realised with bitter clarity. It was their anniversary, forty-three years married today, and they'd been enchanted by the spring countryside, watching birds flit between the blooming hedgerows, breathing in the sweet spring air. The world had seemed so perfect in the golden afternoon light, so gentle and welcoming.

But darkness had crept up on them while they lingered in that false paradise, and now it would claim its price for their foolishness. What had seemed like paradise in the daylight was revealing its true nature; wild, hungry, merciless.

The little greolen was so brave, so determined, but he was just one small creature against so many hungry shadows. She looked at Harold, saw the same quiet despair in his face. They'd had a good life, a lovely day. Such a shame it would end here, so close to home, with this poor brave soul dying because he'd tried to help them.

A large wolf stepped forward from the deeper shadows, and Tro'go felt his breath catch. It was enormous; easily the size of a small pony, with thick matted fur and a scar across its muzzle. When it opened its mouth, the teeth gleamed like ivory daggers in the firelight.

But Tro'go planted his feet and raised Wolf's Bane. "Come on then, old fellow. Let's see what you're made of."

The great wolf tilted its head, studying this strange little warrior who showed no fear. Then it launched itself forward with terrifying speed.

What followed was a blur of motion and sparkling blade-work. Tro'go moved like water, flowing around the wolf's attack and redirecting its momentum with a perfectly timed cut. The blade bit deep into the creature's flank; not a killing blow, but enough to send it tumbling past him with a surprised yelp.

As the great wolf rolled and came up limping, another rushed in from Tro'go's left. He spun to meet it, but the movement brought him too close to the dark edge of their circle. Teeth snapped at him from the shadows, missing his arm by inches.

Without missing a beat, Tro'go backhanded with Wolf's Bane's pommel, striking something in the darkness. A sharp yelp echoed from the shadows.

"Let that be a warning to you!" he called cheerfully into the dark. "Next time I'll take your foot!"

The snapping stopped. The eyes in the darkness seemed to pull back slightly.

Harold grabbed Gurttie's arm. "They understand him," he whispered in amazement. "He can talk to the beasts!"

Another wolf stepped into the circle of torchlight, its approach slow and deliberate. The firelight revealed a creature of considerable size, with yellow eyes that held an intelligence that made Gurttie's breath catch.

"Wolf's Bane hungers," Tro'go announced, raising his sword so the torchlight ran along its edge. "It has tasted your kin's blood before, and it thirsts for more. But I am not unreasonable. Leave now, and keep your blood for yourselves."

The wolf in the light paused for a long moment, tilting his head as if weighing up the little fellow in front of him, then lunged.

But Tro'go was ready. He sidestepped the charge with ease, Wolf's Bane cutting a perfect arc through the air. The blade caught the wolf's tail as it passed, severing it cleanly. The creature yelped and retreated quickly, its dignity wounded as much as its body.

The remaining wolves seemed to confer among themselves with low growls and huffs. Then, as one, they began to melt back into the darkness like shadows before dawn.

In the sudden silence, Tro'go found himself standing alone in the torchlight, dark stains along Wolf's Bane's edge gleaming wetly in the firelight.

"Remember me!" he called after the retreating pack. "Tro'go, wielder of Wolf's Bane, defeater of wolves..." He paused, frowning slightly. "That's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it?"

He stood there for a moment, cleaning his blade with a rag, while having an animated conversation with himself about proper battle declarations as Gurttie and Harold stared in amazement.

"I'm Tro'go the undefeated!" he finally announced to the empty darkness. "The undefeated Greolen knight! Yes, that's the one. Oh... they've gone."

He turned back to find the couple staring at him with expressions somewhere between awe and bewilderment.

"Hello," he said cheerfully. "I'm—"

"Tro'go!" Gurttie exclaimed, her earlier fear transformed into beaming gratitude. "Thank you! You saved us!"

Harold, still gripping his wheel but no longer wielding it as a weapon, managed a grateful nod. "Would you... would you mind protecting us while we fix our wagon? Just until we can get moving again?"

Tro'go bowed with a flourish that nearly sent his pot helm tumbling. "Of course! It would be my honour."

He set about marching in a wide circle around the edge of their torchlight, as if patrolling the very boundaries between safety and danger. His small figure cut a determined silhouette against the wavering shadows, and somehow his presence, ridiculous though it might appear, actually made Gurttie and Harold feel safer.

It took the better part of an hour to get the wheel properly secured, but Tro'go maintained his vigilant patrol throughout, occasionally calling encouraging words to the darkness: "Still here! Still watching! Tro'go the undefeated remains on guard!"

When they were finally ready to depart, Harold climbed onto the driver's bench while Gurttie settled herself beside him. "We're bound for Harefield," Harold said. "Can we offer you passage? It's the least we can do."

"Harefield?" Tro'go's face lit up. "I was heading that way myself! But I prefer to walk, thank you. If I don't use these feet, I'll only forget what they're for!" He laughed at his own joke, patting his legs as if they were old friends.

As the cart rumbled away down the moonlit road, Tro'go watched it go with satisfaction. He'd helped people in need, faced down a pack of wolves, and discovered a rather dramatic new sword technique involving sparks. All in all, a successful day.

A distant howl drifted through the night air. Tro'go raised Wolf's Bane and pointed it in the direction of the sound.

Several answering howls rose from different directions, surrounding him with their wild chorus. Tro'go wasn't entirely sure if they were trying to intimidate him or... honour him?

He chose to interpret it as respect and bowed graciously to the darkness before hurrying along the road toward Harefield. Only when he was well away from the howling did he allow himself to wonder if the wolves had sensed how frightened he'd actually been.

But as he walked, a smile crept across his face. Four wolves? No, five, he decided. That was a believable number; enough to sound impressive but not so many as to strain credibility. After all, if Gurttie and Harold were going to tell the tale, he wanted to make sure his version wasn’t embellished.

"Tro'go the undefeated Greolen knight," he murmured to himself as he continued down the moonlit road. "It does have a ring to it."

Behind him, the night was quiet except for the soft sound of his footsteps and the occasional rustle of small creatures going about their nocturnal business. And if the darkness seemed a little less threatening now, well, perhaps that was exactly as it should be when an undefeated knight walked the roads of Talam.