On the third day, within the territory of the Northern Frost Wolves, beside a small river.
A figure stealthily emerged from the forest, quickly approached the riverbank using large leaves to scoop up some water, then steadied their upper body, moving swiftly back toward the forest.
Maneuvering around a few trees and through some bushes, a giant wolf lay on its side on the ground, its chest and abdomen gently rising and falling, covered in scars, eyes tightly shut.
It was none other than Old Lavi and the Northern Frost Wolf Victor!
"Victor my lord! Victor my lord!" Old Lavi squatted down, bringing the leaf full of water to Victor's mouth, calling softly.
Victor's wolf ears twitched slightly, then instinctively extended his tongue to lick the moisture.
However, Victor, though merely a youngster compared to other Northern Frost Wolves, managed to drain the few mouthfuls of water that would have been enough for Old Lavi in no time.
