The morning sun filtered through high canopies, dappling the forest floor with shifting gold and green. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of bark, moss, and something faintly metallic.

  After weeks of fish and herbs, the craving had become something primal.

  They needed meat.

  Ren led the group into deeper woods, each step more deliberate than the last. Vultherin padded beside him, his body a quiet storm — steam rising from where frost met flame along his flanks.

  Iver crouched low over the dirt, examining tracks with precision.

  Iver: "Two hours old. Heavy gait. Hoofed. Might be a stag."

  Marian moved like a shadow, her usual energy subdued, replaced with a hunter's focus.

  Behind them, Elly trailed. She had tied her hair back and gripped a crude spear too tightly — knuckles white.

  Ren glanced over his shoulder earlier and asked:

  Ren: "You sure you wanna come?"

  Elly: "I'm tired of being useless. I want to help too..."

  There had been no argument after that.

  They moved in near silence, the only sounds being Vultherin's breaths, the crunch of undergrowth, and the occasional flick of Marian's gaze toward movement.

  Hoof prints deepened near a watering hole. A faint stink of blood, maybe from a scratch or rutting clash, clung to the air.

  Iver: "We're close. If we split, we can flank it before dusk."

  A risky call.

  But agreed.

  Ren stayed with Vultherin. Marian headed west, nimble as ever. Iver and Elly veered east, disappearing into thick fern and creeping roots.

  Minutes passed. Then more.

  And then—

  A scream tore through the trees — sharp, human, panicked.

  Ren's head snapped up.

  Elly.

  Branches slapped at his face as he sprinted, Vultherin beside him, growling low, fire crackling at his jaws.

  Ren: "ELLY! IVER!"

  They burst into a clearing just in time.

  Figures in black cloaks were dragging two bodies — one kicking, the other limp — into the forest shadows.

  Elly, her spear broken.

  Iver, blood along his temple.

  But worse were the creatures.

  A massive wasp-beast buzzed threateningly, its wings slicing the air with sawblade precision. Its stinger dripped with venom, each flap a menace.

  Another rider, cloaked in red, mounted a wolf-like creature — smoke made solid, eyes glowing with an unnatural gold.

  Ren's breath caught in his throat.

  Ren: "A transport group... bandits."

  Real ones. Not wild hunters or forest threats. Organized. Armed. Bonded.

  Beasts like Vultherin.

  Fighters like him.

  Vultherin snarled but did not charge — the uncertainty heavy in his stance.

  This wasn't a skirmish. It was an ambush.

  A decision had to be made:

  Charge in and risk everything.

  Follow cautiously, risking them getting away.

  Or return for backup, and risk being too late.

  And for the first time...

  Ren hesitated.

  The forest air clung to Ren's skin like damp cloth — thick, choking, heavy with dread. Every step was a race against time. Roots clawed at his boots, branches whipped across his arms, but he didn't slow.

  Vultherin ran beside him, eyes like twin embers in the dark, breath steaming.

  Ahead, under a moss-covered ridge, Marian crouched low. She didn't flinch when Ren dropped beside her, only whispered—

  Marian: "They took them east. I saw two bonds."

  Ren: "We're not leaving without them."

  She nodded. The look they shared needed no words.

  The trail ended at a clearing surrounded by scorched trees. Torches crackled in the dark, throwing flickering light over jagged tents, rusted cages, and monsters chained in restless sleep.

  A brutal circle of power and cruelty.

  Ren spotted them — Elly and Iver.

  Elly's hands were bound. Her knees scraped and bruised. Iver's face was smeared with blood, his brow split, but he stayed upright, defiant despite the pain.

  Ren leaned close to Marian.

  Ren: "Make noise. Keep them on me. While I fight—free them."

  Marian: "Got it."

  But then —

  A voice slithered from the camp, vile and mocking.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  ???: "Pretty little thing, aren't you?"

  Ren shifted, rage bubbling under his skin.

  Through the brush, he saw him — a bandit with matted hair and rotting teeth, dragging a filthy tongue up Elly's cheek.

  She shuddered, closing her eyes, trying to disappear.

  Ren didn't think.

  He moved.

  Ren: "Close your eyes, Elly."

  Steel flashed. Fire roared. Frost hissed.

  Ren burst from the trees like a storm, Vultherin at his side — twin jaws of ice and flame.

  Ren: "YOU'RE DEAD!"

  The leering bandit barely had time to scream before Vultherin's paw collided with his chest, launching him into a tree with a sickening crack.

  The camp exploded.

  Bandits scrambled, weapons drawn. Beasts howled in confusion, their chains rattling.

  One brute charged Ren with an axe thicker than a man's arm. Ren grab a sword from the ground. Their blades clashed — steel groaning under the weight of fury.

  Meanwhile, Marian slipped through shadows, silent as breath. She found the cage.

  Elly's tear-streaked eyes met hers, hope flaring.

  With a flick, Marian sliced the lock. Iver stumbled forward.

  Iver: "Ngh—my arm..."

  He staggered, barely able to breathe, his bloodied shoulder hanging limp.

  Then—

  A growl.

  Low. Guttural. Ancient.

  From the far edge of the camp, a hulking Drakehound pulled at its chains.

  Iron-plated scales shimmered under the firelight, black as coal, ridged with scars.

  Its eyes — not mindless red, but gold. Intelligent. Focused.

  It saw Iver.

  And Iver saw it.

  For a heartbeat, everyone else disappeared.

  The air thickened.

  Like something sacred — or cursed — was unfolding.

  Marian: "Shit. Iver, don't—!"

  But Iver stepped forward.

  Even wounded. Even limping.

  He didn't raise a weapon.

  He just looked into the beast's eyes.

  Iver: "You're... angry. Caged. Alone."

  The Drakehound snarled, its jaws dripping flame-tinged saliva — but it didn't lunge.

  Iver pressed his palm to his chest, where the bondmark had yet to form.

  Iver: "So am I."

  The chain holding the beast snapped — not by force, but by choice.

  The Drakehound shook off its collar, steel links hitting the dirt like falling bones.

  Iver collapsed to his knees, a searing light blazing across his shoulder.

  The mark burned into his skin — a symbol of flame, fang, and loyalty.

  He winced. Grunted. Then whispered:

  Iver: "You're... with me now?"

  The Drakehound roared, not at him —

  But into the sky.

  Then it turned and charged — not toward Iver, but into the thick of the battle.

  A bandit screamed, barely raising his axe before he was tackled and flung like a ragdoll.

  Together, they fought.

  Beast and man.

  Iver with his uninjured arm, wielding a blood-slicked spear.

  The Drakehound shielding his flank, fire curling from its maw.

  It didn't feel like a first battle.

  It felt like they had done this before.

  Like they were meant to.

  And from the shadows, Vultherin let out a low, approving growl —

  One bond acknowledging another.

  Bodies fell.

  The ground burned and froze in tandem. Screams echoed, then faded.

  Ren's blade cut the last of them down... but not unscathed.

  A slash across his ribs bled freely, staining his coat crimson.

  Iver cradled his dislocated arm, teeth gritted.

  Marian limped, a dagger buried in her thigh, but refused to fall.

  When it ended, Ren dropped beside a tree, breath ragged.

  Elly rushed to him, tears streaking her dirt-smeared cheeks.

  Elly: "You came back for us..."

  Ren, smiling weakly: "Of course I did... but I might need... someone to carry me back..."

  He passed out before he saw her smile — broken, relieved.

  Vultherin curled beside him, wounded but defiant, his flames dim but protective.

  In the ashes of battle... the bonds only grew stronger.

  Elly ran.

  Branches whipped past, leaves clawed at her skin, but she didn't stop.

  Not for breath. Not for the sting in her lungs.

  Not even for the tears that blurred her vision.

  She held the medkit tight to her chest — her only lifeline to you.

  Behind her, Marian pressed hard against your wound, cloth soaked in blood.

  Iver grit his teeth as he tried to help, one arm useless, the other barely steady.

  Marian: "Hold on, dammit. Don't you dare die after all that."

  Vultherin didn't move much — curled around you like a flickering furnace of loyalty, his body trembling with every strained breath.

  When Elly burst through the trees into the allied camp, everything stopped.

  Elly: "Ren's dying! Marian's hurt— Iver too! They need help now!"

  Josh rose immediately, eyes wide but focused. Kristie's ever-teasing smirk fell away like a mask. Even Cedy's carefree look hardened into fear.

  But it was Rica who stepped forward, her voice clear, commanding:

  Rica: "Rej, go with them. Take tools. Anything sharp, anything sterile. Kristie— boil water. Lily, herbs. Anything you think might help."

  The urgency lit a fire under everyone.

  For a rare, shining moment —

  They moved like a unit.

  Like a real team.

  The first rays of sunlight spilled across the worn wood and dirt floor, painting everything in amber. The world outside still looked foreign, but inside the makeshift shelter, something had changed.

  Ren awoke.

  Bruised, bandaged, but alive.

  Ren's head ached like hell, his body sore, but the warmth on his arm was undeniable.

  Elly's hand.

  She didn't pull away, not even when he stirred. Her thumb brushed over hus wrist, as if confirming you were real.

  Elly: "You're really awake..."

  Her voice was barely a whisper — hoarse, cracked. She didn't look at him, not yet.

  Elly: "You're an idiot."

  The corners of her eyes shone. She wiped them before he could speak, but her fingers trembled.

  Elly: "Why did you jump in like that? You could've—"

  She broke off. Swallowed.

  Ren: "Still here, aren't I?"

  That earned a shaky laugh.

  She looked away again, but her grip on him tightened — like she thought if she let go, he might vanish.

  Elly: "I wasn't ready... to see you like that. I thought if I lost you..."

  A pause. She took a breath.

  Elly: "Thank you. For telling me to close my eyes."

  Across the camp, Iver sat shirtless under the shade of the ruined tarp-roof, his arm halfway wrapped in clean bandages. Rica knelt beside him, surprisingly gentle as she tightened the last knot.

  Rica: "You were the quiet one. Logical. Controlled. Now look at you—bonded with a half-melted lizard-dog."

  Iver: "Drakehound."

  Rica raised a brow.

  Rica: "Right. 'Drakehound.' Still nearly bit Kristie's hand off."

  Iver gave a weak chuckle, wincing.

  Iver: "He was caged. I get it."

  There was a pause between them — not awkward, just... heavy.

  Rica: "Do you think we'll really get out of this?"

  He didn't answer right away.

  Iver: "No idea. But I trust Ren."

  He glanced toward Ren.

  Iver: "And I trust You... when you're not panicking."

  Rica rolled her eyes, but smiled faintly.

  Rica: "...Fair."

  Josh ducked under the tent flap, holding a fishing pole made from a broken spear and torn fabric. He grinned when he spotted Ren upright.

  Josh: "Yo! He lives! Guess we don't have to raid your rations after all."

  Cedy leaned against Kristie, arms crossed.

  Cedy: "Actually, we already voted. You were worth at least three meals. Maybe four, if we count the jacket."

  Kristie: "We're not eating Ren, dumbass."

  She walked over, stopping by Ren's side. Her expression softened when she saw the color return to your face.

  Kristie: "Next time you pull a stunt like that, we're tying you to a tree."

  A beat.

  Kristie: "...A comfy tree."

  Marian sat quietly in the far corner of the camp, legs folded, sharpening the edge of a short hunting knife. Dirt clung to her sleeves, blood on her knees. She hadn't slept — that much was clear.

  Beside her, Vultherin lay curled, chest rising slow and steady. His fur was scorched, patches of his sleek hide singed from battle, but his eyes were clear — fixed on you.

  Not blinking. Just... watching.

  Marian didn't look up from the blade.

  Marian: "He never left your side."

  Her tone was casual, but the words held weight.

  Marian: "Even when you stopped breathing for a bit."

  She looked at Ren. No teasing. No jokes.

  Just... respect.

  Marian: "Guess you're more than just another reckless idiot."

  Ren wouldn't have recognized it.

  What had been a prison of flame and blood was now your shelter.

  Cloth from tents became bedding.

  A stolen fire pit crackled warmth.

  And those cages? Smashed and repurposed into drying racks and defensive walls.

  Marian sat at your side, one eye always scanning the shadows.

  Iver leaned against a log, the Drakehound curled tightly around his leg — protective, loyal, as if they'd known each other for years.

  Rej returned with loot from a hidden stash:

  Crude leather armor

  Rusted hunting knives and chipped spears

  A dozen Varnak coins — smooth obsidian etched with glowing glyphs

  And bundles of jerky and dried fruit

  Kristie, peering at the coins: "We're rich... or it's fantasy Monopoly. Could go either way."

  Rica shook her head, inspecting them.

  Rica: "Crude. Not even a single book in sight. These bandits had no structure— just hoarded loot like animals."

  Cedy, cleaning her knife: "Cool. Next time we're kidnapped, I'll request better accommodations. Maybe a library."

  Even through the exhaustion, someone chuckled.

  A quiet peace settled.

  No singing. No stories. Just the fire, the wind, and the ache of survival.

  Then Iver, voice like cracked stone:

  Iver: "We need to get stronger. Fast."

  No one argued.

  Because no one disagreed.

  If you’re enjoying Bondforged so far, don’t forget to rate the story, drop a review, and leave a comment — I’d love to hear your thoughts and theories! ??

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  – Rein Silvers ???