Chapter 2 — Predator’s Patience

  The wolf did not retreat.

  It circled instead, slow and deliberate, massive frame gliding through the undergrowth with unsettling silence. Pale green light pulsed faintly beneath its fur, brightening and dimming as it moved. Its eyes never left Eis—sharp, measuring, waiting for weakness.

  Eis tracked it without turning her head.

  Distance. Ground. Timing.

  Her stance adjusted by fractions, boots finding surer purchase on the damp earth. Fallen branches lay half-buried in moss. Exposed roots twisted across the clearing like tripwires. To her left, the terrain sloped downward toward the sound of water. To her right, thicker brush—restricted movement.

  The wolf lowered itself, muscles bunching.

  Eis inhaled once.

  Then it lunged.

  She moved into it.

  Steel flashed as she stepped past the snapping jaws, one blade catching the beast’s momentum and guiding it off-line while the second drove upward beneath the ribcage. The impact jarred her arms. The hide resisted—dense, reinforced by whatever mana coursed beneath it—but the edge still bit.

  The wolf howled, a raw, furious sound.

  It twisted violently, claws tearing through soil as it tried to rake her open. Eis rolled with the force, boots skidding, then came up low and inside its reach. Her blade struck again—precise, controlled—slashing tendons rather than muscle.

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  The beast staggered.

  It was strong. Too strong for a prolonged fight.

  So she ended it.

  Eis stepped in close, ignoring the snapping teeth, and drove her sword cleanly through the base of its skull. The wolf convulsed once, then collapsed heavily into the moss, its inner light guttering and fading until only dull fur remained.

  Silence returned to the clearing.

  Eis stood over the body for a long moment, breathing controlled, heart hammering hard enough to feel in her throat. Only when the forest did not immediately answer the violence did she lower her blades.

  She cleaned them on the grass.

  The corpse was warm. Fresh. And large enough to feed her for days.

  Decision made.

  She worked efficiently—cutting, skinning, separating usable meat from anything that still shimmered faintly with unstable mana. She avoided the glowing veins instinctively. Whatever powered the beast was not something she intended to ingest.

  Near the stream, she gathered dry branches sheltered beneath roots and stone. Sparks came easily; fire always had. Soon, a small flame crackled low and controlled, its light barely cresting the nearby brush.

  The scent of cooking meat cut through the forest’s damp air.

  Eis ate slowly, methodically, letting warmth settle into her limbs. The food was dense, gamey, sustaining. When she finished, she doused the fire thoroughly and scattered the ashes, leaving no obvious sign of her presence. She buried the remains of the wolf, a loss of resources but nothing she could do about it.

  Then she moved. Her blades at her hips.

  She followed the stream downhill, keeping to cover, eyes and ears open. The forest felt different now—not safer, but understood. Predators avoided her path. Smaller creatures fled before she came into view.

  After some time, a golden light began to wash over the forest and a new sound threaded through the natural rhythm of Eldergreen.

  Metal.

  A faint clang. Then another.

  Voices followed—muffled, distant, but unmistakably human.

  Eis slowed, melting into shadow as she angled toward the sound.

  A camp.

  Close.

  And finally—

  Information.