---
The cave trembled as the Moonbane Howler's low growl echoed through the stone walls.
Kamigan instinctively stepped in front of the unconscious girl, shielding her with his body. His legs shook, but his grip tightened around a broken iron spear lying beside the cave wall. The Howler prowled forward, glowing silver veins pulsing with every heartbeat. It was hungry. Desperate. And cornered prey was always the most dangerous.
The Howler lunged.
Kamigan rolled to the side, barely dodging as claws gouged into the rock. Dust rained from the ceiling. The girl stirred, groaning, her eyes fluttering open. She saw the monster, and with a jolt of adrenaline, grabbed her sword.
"We can't beat it head-on," Kamigan shouted. "We need to trap it!"
Her breathing was heavy, but she nodded. "The terrain… we use the cave."
The Moonbane Howler snarled, trying to squeeze through the narrow corridor deeper into the cave. Its size gave them an edge—it couldn't fully maneuver.
"Lure it," she whispered, already moving to the side.
Kamigan dashed forward, throwing a rock to get its attention. The beast roared and gave chase. As it lunged, the girl slashed its side with her iron sword, causing it to twist and howl. Blood—blue and steaming—splattered against the cave wall.
"Now!" Kamigan shouted.
He leapt onto a protruding ledge above. "Hey, oversized mutt! Up here!"
The beast snarled and sprang toward him. That's when the girl kicked out a wooden support beam from a crumbling overhang they had noticed earlier—something man-made, likely an old hiding spot.
The structure gave way.
CRACK—CRASH!
Rocks and debris fell onto the Howler, pinning its hind legs. It thrashed wildly, screeching and scraping the stone with its claws. Its upper body still free, it tried to crawl forward.
Kamigan jumped down, using the broken iron spear like a stake.
"Hold it still!" he cried.
The girl sprinted in, plunging her sword into the beast's shoulder, driving it deeper with both hands. The Howler roared in agony, swinging its head—but Kamigan was already atop it.
With a final cry, he plunged the iron spear into the beast's glowing chest.
A burst of silver light exploded outward.
Then silence.
The beast slumped, its breath gone. Blue blood oozed into the dirt.
Kamigan fell backward, gasping. His arms shook from the effort. The girl collapsed beside him, eyes wide with disbelief.
They didn't speak for a moment. Only the sound of their ragged breaths filled the cave.
Kamigan finally chuckled weakly. "We… actually did it."
---
For a moment, Kamigan allowed himself to breathe.
Relief, however, was a fragile thing—already crumbling as he leaned against the cold, uneven stone. The silence of the cave pressed in on him, but his eyes lingered not on peace, but on the corpse of the Moonbane Howler.
He didn't trust stillness. Not in this world.
The creature's body lay twisted, motionless, but something about it refused to settle into death. Kamigan glanced at the girl—then back to the beast. His unease coiled around his spine like a second shadow.
He stood slowly, picked up the iron spear, and moved toward the corpse with wary steps.
"You can never be too careful," he whispered, not to her, not even to himself—but to the world, as if it were listening.
He raised the spear and drove it down.
The beast's hand twitched. Then rose.
The iron pierced its palm with a sickening slide.
Kamigan felt sweat bead at his temple.
"As I thought…"
The corpse screamed.
It was not a scream of pain—it was the sound of death's denial, of something torn from the void too early. The rubble scattered as the beast tore itself free, its limbs cracking with unnatural stiffness, like something being rewound by unseen hands.
Before thought could catch up, Kamigan moved—pure instinct. He leapt aside as the Howler surged forward, crashing through what once was a hidden entrance. Stone crumbled like paper. Moonlight poured in like pale judgment.
Outside, Kamigan locked eyes with the girl. She nodded.
No words. Only grim agreement.
Chasing the creature was madness. But letting it escape?
Worse.
If it gets away… it returns. Maybe not alone. Maybe with others. Wolves remember. Wolves hunt in echoes.
They emerged into the night, swallowed by shadows.
A growl curled through the trees—deep, guttural, wrong. The Moonbane Howler's silver eyes shimmered within the dark like moons glimpsed through storm clouds.
The girl, barefoot and bruised, clutched her sword. She stood, barely, her breath ragged.
"It's not retreating," she rasped.
Kamigan's eyes flicked across the forest—vines, broken ground, a narrow trench to the left. Nature offered no comfort, but perhaps… opportunity.
"Then we kill it," he said softly. "Here. Now."
She nodded. "Any plan?"
He didn't look at her. "We have something it doesn't."
"What's that?"
"Strategy," he whispered.
The Howler advanced slowly now—wary, breathing in the air as if tasting time itself. It was injured. It was learning. Anger simmered beneath its ruined fur.
Kamigan gestured to the trench. "Lure it there. You draw it in—I'll prepare the fire."
No hesitation from her. Only trust, or the absence of better options.
From his pouch, Kamigan drew a flask of oil—ancient, half-coagulated—and poured it into the trench. Dried leaves followed, then a flint rigged to a bent sapling.
It would spark. It had to.
"Lead it to the edge," he murmured, stepping behind a gnarled tree. "I'll light it when it jumps."
She gave no reply. Just walked out into the night—fragile, broken, but unyielding.
She threw a rock. The sound echoed.
The Howler turned.
It leapt.
She ducked. Barely. Its claws sliced the air beside her skull. She struck low, sparks flying as her blade glanced off bone.
The beast howled—its voice like cracked mirrors and forgotten names.
Its tail lashed. She flew.
Kamigan shouted, "Run!"
She stumbled toward the trench. The creature followed, relentless, its hunger sharpened by pain.
Kamigan pulled the cord.
Fssss—KRAK!
The sapling snapped. The trench ignited.
Flames reached skyward like desperate hands. The Howler tried to leap across, but the fire caught it—mid-air, mid-thought. It shrieked as heat kissed fur and flesh, its form twisting violently.
But it did not fall.
It burned—and attacked.
Kamigan rolled, its claws grazing skin and slicing fabric. Blood bloomed across his ribs.
The girl, coughing blood, crawled through the dirt. She grabbed the broken iron blade. Her voice, hoarse and final:
"Kamigan!"
She threw it.
He caught it.
Time slowed.
The Howler came again.
Kamigan surged forward with a scream of his own and drove the blade into the creature's throat. It bit down, claws raking, until the girl hurled herself onto its back, adding weight, force, will.
The blade sank deeper.
Into its heart? No—into something older. A core. A curse.
BOOM.
Energy crackled. The beast convulsed.
Then silence. True silence.
Smoke and blood mingled in the air like forgotten prayers.
Kamigan collapsed beside her. He groaned, "I… hate this place."
"You're not the only one," she whispered, smiling with cracked lips.
They rose again.
Somehow.
As they returned to the cave, Kamigan picked up the discarded spear and drifted toward a corner where frogs croaked lazily in the dark.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To relieve myself," he muttered.
She said nothing more, vanishing into the cave's mouth.
Kamigan finished. He stared at the spear, then tossed it away.
Some tools outlive their purpose. Others… are cursed to linger.
He reentered the cave to find her lying on the stone floor. She pointed into the dark.
"There's water, if you're thirsty."
He nodded. Found two cups. Filled them. Offered one.
They drank.
They did not speak again for four hours.
Then—
"Aren't you going to sleep?" she asked.
Kamigan scoffed. "Why? So you can watch over me?"
He sat up, eyes dark, voice cold.
"Or would it just be easier to kill me in my sleep?"
She stood slowly, her back to him.
Then turned her head—just enough to show a smile.
Cruel. Knowing.
"Oh my," she said softly, "I thought I acted so well."
---