The rhythmic creak of the wagon wheels and the clatter of its old, iron frame were the only sounds that broke the otherwise suffocating silence. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving a bruise of purple and black across the sky. Jake sat against the back of the cage, watching the last of the guards with a detached interest. They had made it through the goblin attack, but the sense of unease hadn't left him.
The remaining guards, despite their tough exteriors, weren't all that close. He could hear it in their voices, the subtle tension whenever they spoke. Their camaraderie seemed to be held together only by the necessity of survival. There was no trust, no bond forged in the fire of battle. These men knew the dangers of their job. They knew their lives could end at any moment, just like the one who had fallen to the goblins. It was a harsh reality of their world.
Jake had overheard snippets of their conversations earlier as the wagon continued its slow trek along the forest path. They were talking about their destination, but not much detail was revealed. The place they were heading toward, whatever it was, seemed important, though the air between them was thick with something darker. Anxiety, perhaps. Or fear.
"You think we'll make it?" one of the guards asked, his voice low and edged with worry.
"We have to," came the reply. "It's not far now. Once we're there, we're done. No more running. Just hand over the goods, and cash in."
That was the extent of their conversation, but it spoke volumes. Their destination wasn't just some outpost—it was something that held promise. They were running from something, or maybe toward something.
The wagon continued on, the horses' hooves slapping against the damp earth, and as the minutes stretched into hours, Jake's senses sharpened. His body was still starved for food, but it didn't matter. His mind was a knife, cutting through every movement, every sound, every odd shift in the atmosphere.
The trees were growing thicker around them, towering and gnarled, their limbs twisted like the hands of ancient specters. The light was fading fast, and the forest was becoming a suffocating labyrinth of shadow. Even the birds, which had been singing in the earlier hours, had grown eerily silent.
One of the guards glanced over his shoulder, scanning the surrounding darkness. "Too quiet," he muttered. "Something doesn't feel right."
The other guard grunted in agreement but didn't say anything. His eyes, too, were alert, searching the perimeter.
Jake didn't need to be told twice. Something was coming. He could feel it in his bones. The air had changed.
Without warning, a low, mournful howl echoed through the woods, followed by another, and then another. The wolves had arrived.
Jake's heart skipped a beat.
Spirit wolves.
These were no ordinary beasts—they were the stuff of legend, creatures made of spiritual energy, capable of moving through the physical and ethereal realms. They were fast, deadly, and relentless. They didn't hunt for food—they hunted for sport.
And now, here they were, in a place they shouldn't be. The pack of four wolves emerged from the shadows, their glowing eyes blazing like molten fire. Their fur shimmered in the dim light, shifting between solid and translucent. They were massive, each one larger than any normal wolf, their bodies rippling with untamed energy.
The guards stiffened. One of them fumbled for his weapon, but the second guard was already moving, reaching for the hilt of his sword. "Shit," he swore, his voice filled with disbelief. "This isn't supposed to happen. Not here."
They didn't have time to process the situation. One of the wolves leapt, a blur of fangs and claws, its form too fast to track. The first guard didn't even have time to raise his sword before the wolf tore into him, its jaws sinking deep into his neck. Blood sprayed the air in a hot, viscous stream.
The second guard screamed and swung his sword wildly, but another wolf was upon him in an instant. It snapped at his legs, sending him crashing to the ground, and in seconds, it was over. The wolves didn't even hesitate, tearing into the guards with brutal efficiency.
Jake's eyes narrowed. The situation was deteriorating quickly. The remaining two wolves, though injured, were still standing, their eyes glowing with malice.
In the chaos, the last remaining guard turned, panic written all over his face. His comrades were dead, torn apart in seconds, and he was next. His eyes darted from the wolves to the cage, and then back again.
The decision was made.
With trembling hands, he unlocked the cage, throwing the door open. He didn't even speak—just shoved Jake and the other prisoners to the ground with a force that left no room for argument. "Move," he spat, his voice cracking with fear. "Distract them. I'll run."
Jake hit the ground hard accidentally dropping his makeshift dagger and it was kicked away by one of the slaves during the comotion. his mind racing as he quickly scrambled to his feet. The last guard was already running, bolting toward the edge of the clearing, toward whatever his destination was. He left the slaves behind, sacrificing them as pawns to buy himself a chance at survival.
The remaining wolves, injured but not defeated, shifted their attention to the group of prisoners. They hissed and growled, the sound sending a chill down Jake's spine. They were disoriented, but they weren't finished. Not by a long shot.
Jake didn't waste time. The second the guard ran, he knew he had to act. His mind worked fast—he wasn't about to become a distraction for anyone.
One of the injured wolves, its body seeping dark energy, limped toward the prisoners. Jake's heart raced. He had no weapons, no magic—just his instincts.
Without thinking, Jake lunged forward, grabbing a nearby rock and throwing it with all his might at the closest wolf. It hit the beast square in the face, distracting it long enough for Jake to dive into the forest, moving fast and low.
The other prisoners were still cowering, frozen by fear. But they were no longer the guard's problem. He was running toward the unknown, leaving the pack behind to feast on whatever remained.
Jake ran deeper into the woods. His heart pounded, his breath ragged, but his mind was clear. There was one thing he knew for certain: if he was going to survive, he couldn't trust anyone.
It was every man for himself.