The forest grew darker as the twin suns dipped below the treeline, their weak light swallowed by the endless expanse of snow-laden pines. Femi's breath came in ragged gasps, his bandaged chest aching, his small, furred limbs trembling with exhaustion as he strained to drag the sled behind Varga. The cold bit deep, gnawing at his exposed fur.
After dragging this thing, if they don't give me clothes for this cold, I'll make sure the camp hears my complaints, he grumbled inwardly, his paws numb as he hauled the stripped carcass on the makeshift sled.
But the burning in his legs was worse. Every step was agony. His whiskers twitched, and he cast a hopeful glance at Varga maybe she would finally take this burden from him, because at this point, he felt like an underpaid bricklayer.
Yet Varga remained vigilant, her sharp eyes scanning the surrounding woods for threats, even after hours of uneventful travel. No dire-wolves, no dancing Mammy Water, just the occasional hare darting between the frost-rimed trees.
When the camp finally came into view, Femi's heart leapt. Safety.
Eager to escape the biting wind, he scurried ahead, his paws crunching over the frost-hardened earth. The campfires glowed like beacons in the gathering dark, promising warmth and respite.
The camp was alive with Krags, dozens of them lounging around crackling fires, their laughter sharp against the twilight.
Varga exhaled, rolling her shoulders. "Leave the sled here," she ordered, fatigue lining her voice.
Femi dropped the ropes before she finished speaking, collapsing onto the frozen ground to massage his aching paws. Damn, that hurt. He'd surprised himself, hauling that carcass so far.
"You're finally back, Varga. About time."
A deep, familiar voice cut through the noise. Femi looked up to see Goruk, a dangerous-looking Krag, detaching himself from a group of younger krags. The hulking figure strode over, giving their catch an appraising glance before grinning.
"You and your pet there look a little roughed up, but it seems you had a good hunt, Varga.
Femi who was sprawled in the snow, listening as Grouk called him a pet. It's your papa that's a pet, idiot, he thought in reply.
This'll complement what the boss brought back." He turned and waved over a few Krags. "I'll have the young ones skin it up."
Varga's eyes narrowed at his words. "What did the boss bring?"
Likely a deer or other game, Femi thought. But Goruk's reaction suggested something else entirely.
"A mutant," Goruk replied, his grin turning savage.
Varga's face stiffened. "A mutant?"
"A mutant dire wolf ambushed Aerius's party. Put up a hell of a fight and injured a few of them. But they won. Now we feast."
For a moment, Varga looked like she wanted to ask more, but she shook her head.
"Then I won't be needed here, right," she said, locking eyes with Goruk.
"Guess not," he agreed, telling the others to take the deer.
Without another word, Varga turned and walked toward her campsite. Femi hesitated, then hurried after her, casting one last glance back at Goruk. The Krag was still watching him, smiling. A chill ran down Femi's spine, and it had nothing to do with the cold.
At Varga's campsite, she unpacked in silence. Femi watched her for a while before finally speaking.
"What was he talking about before? The mutant, I mean."
She didn't answer. Instead, she entered the tent and emerged with a rag and a waterskin, motioning for him to take them.
"Use this for your wounds."
Femi sighed, unwrapping the bandages around his chest. The wound beneath was healing, leaving pinkish scars and marked fur. He cleaned away the dried blood and wrapped it again with the fresh cloth.
"Stay here," Varga ordered, grabbing her bow before striding toward Aerius's massive tent.
Femi watched her go, then settled down, exhaustion pulling at him. He didn't know when he dozed off, slipping into a restless sleep filled with fragmented dreams of a woman's face, blurred and distant, staring at him in silence before fading away.
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The air inside Aerius's tent was thick with the scent of crushed herbs and blood. Furs lined the ground, and a brazier smoldered in the corner, casting flickering shadows across the canvas walls. Two human women,thin-faced, their wrists chafed from rope burns,worked in silence, pressing damp cloths to the gashes on Areius's shoulder. The Krag war chieft sat shirtless on a low stool, his massive frame tense as one of the women dabbed a paste of bitterroot into his wounds.
Varga pushed through the tent flaps without ceremony.
"You're alive," she said flatly.
Areius didn't turn. "Disappointed?"
"Curious." She crossed her arms, her gaze flicking to the wounds. Deep, jagged claw marks. "Goruk said it was a mutant."
"Goruk talks too much." Aerius grunted as the woman tightened a bandage around his ribs. "But yes. A dire wolf, though not like any we've seen. Faster. Smarter. Its blood was black as tar."
Varga's jaw tightened. "How close did it get to the camp?"
"Close enough." He finally looked at her, his amber eyes glinting in the firelight. "Why? Worried about your little rat?"
She ignored the jab. "Mutants don't wander this far north without reason. If there's a pack"
"There isn't." Areius waved the women away. They retreated to the tent's edge, eyes downcast. "Mutants are rare among their own kind."
"and It was alone. Starving, maybe. Or driven out."
"Or scouting."
A pause. The brazier crackled.
Areius leaned forward, his voice dropping. "You think I haven't considered that? The northern clans Witches send their beasts to sniff out weakness. But this thing wasn't controlled. It fought like a rabid thing. No strategy, just hunger."
Varga's fingers tapped against her forearm. "And if more come?"
"Then we kill them." He smirked, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Unless you'd rather we flee?"
"I'd rather not freeze to death because you're too proud to move camp."
Areius exhaled sharply. "We stay. The ancestors' grounds are near. We need their blessing before the battle."
Varga's nostrils flared. blessing. Of course. "You'd risk the whole band for a ritual?"
"I'd risk more than that." His gaze locked onto hers. "Unless you've forgotten whose blood runs in your veins, sister."
The word hung between them, heavy as a blade.
Varga turned to leave. "Just keep your sentries sharp."
"Varga." Aerius's voice stopped her at the flap. "If you're so concerned, take first watch. Scout the northern tree line, and also make sure that rat of yours is good for more than stealing scraps."
She didn't answer. The tent flaps fell shut behind her, leaving only the whisper of snow against canvas.
-------
A roar of voices jolted him awake.
The camp had erupted into chaos, shouts, laughter, and the thunderous stomping of boots. Birds burst from the trees in a flurry of wings, and horses whinnied in alarm.
Was the camp under attack?
Femi scrambled to his feet, scanning the clearing. At its center, a massive bonfire raged, flames licking high into the cloudy night sky. Dozens of Krags and a few scattered humans moved around it, their shadows stretching long and jagged across the snow. The noise was deafening, a cacophony of celebration that reminded Femi of a yam festival back home.
For a moment, he was tempted to join in. But he doubted they'd welcome him.
They didn't celebrate like this yesterday. Did something special happen?
Then it clicked. The mutant.
The thick scent of roasting meat hung heavy in the air, rich enough to make his mouth water. He licked his whiskers, stomach growling.
"To the ancestors and glory!" Areius's voice boomed above the din. "We, the descendants of Kraggorth, greatest of the Four Great Chiefs!"
A raucous cheer rose as the warriors raised their cups. Femi caught a glimpse of Areius near the fire, clad in a white wolf pelt, the beast's massive skull now serving as his helmet.
That demonic thing was in that forest? Well more reasons to stay away.
He glanced around. He was alone, even Varga hadn't returned. And he was hungry. There might be food in her tent, but stealing from her was looking for an unwanted fight. She'd notice, and Femi had no desire to test her patience.
Still… he had options. Varga had taught him to forage, for edible roots while on their way back. But that meant venturing back into the forest, and he wasn't foolish enough to enter a confirmed evil forest and dance with bush babies at night.
Besides, he deserved meat. He'd nearly died hauling that carcass back.
A sly smirk curled his lips as he watched the Krags. A plan took shape. Closing his eyes, he let his night vision sharpen, a trick he'd learned during his captivity.
Well, it's not stealing if I'm already entitled to a portion.