The morning sun rose pale and gold through the mist, streaking the forest floor with threads of light. Dew clung to every leaf, and the air carried the scent of wet bark and earth. Aarav walked ahead, bow in hand, the quiet confidence of a boy forced to grow up too soon. Prithvi followed, clutching a small knife, his steps careful but unsure.
"Today," Aarav said without turning back, "you will learn how to hunt. Magic won't feed you. Arrows and patience will."
Prithvi nodded. He could feel the forest breathing around him — alive, listening. It always seemed to notice him now.
They moved through thick ferns and tangled roots until the faint prints of deer appeared in the damp soil. Aarav crouched low, eyes scanning the path. "Fresh. Not more than an hour old."
Prithvi bent beside him. "You can tell that… just from this?"
Aarav smirked faintly. "Watch and learn, little brother."
They followed the tracks until they reached a clearing where a small herd grazed. The air was still, filled with the soft crackle of leaves. Aarav loaded an arrow, his movements smooth and silent. "You see that one by the tree? Slight limp on the back leg. We go for the weak one — it has less chance of running far. Aim clean. No suffering."
Prithvi swallowed hard and nodded. Aarav drew, exhaled, and released. The arrow flew true, striking the deer's neck. It fell instantly, the forest going quiet.
Prithvi stood frozen. "You… you killed it so easily."
Aarav lowered his bow, voice calm. "Killing isn't easy. But if you must, do it quickly. That's the only kindness left in it."
They approached the fallen deer. Its stillness made Prithvi's heart twist, but Aarav's expression stayed steady — practiced, but not cold. He knelt beside it, murmuring a soft prayer. "The forest gives, the forest takes." Then he turned to Prithvi. "Now you finish the lesson. You learn to thank what you take."
Prithvi knelt, hesitantly touching the deer's fur. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Aarav smiled faintly. "That's good enough."
They began to dress the animal, working quietly. But as the blood seeped into the soil, the forest changed. The birds stopped singing. The wind stilled. Even the leaves froze, as though holding their breath.
Aarav noticed first. "Prithvi… stand back."
A deep growl rumbled from the trees — low, guttural, and too familiar. Shadows shifted between the trunks, heavy footfalls pressing into the earth.
Prithvi's breath caught. "It's—"
"I know," Aarav hissed, raising his bow. "The Raksh-Wolf."
The beast emerged, eyes burning like molten gold. Its fur was dark and matted, its body half-covered in scars from the last encounter. But this time, it wasn't alone. Two smaller shapes prowled behind it — younger, leaner, hungry.
Prithvi's hand instinctively went to his chest, feeling the faint pulse of the sun-mark beneath his shirt. The same warmth he'd felt before began to rise, but before he could move, Aarav stepped in front of him.
"Stay behind me," Aarav said firmly, voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "You don't face this thing again. Not alone."
The Raksh-Wolf snarled, the sound deep enough to shake the trees. Aarav raised his bow and whispered, "If it comes closer, you run. Don't look back."
"But—"
"Run!" Aarav barked, eyes never leaving the beast.
The air thickened. Prithvi could feel the forest responding again — a faint tremor underfoot, leaves quivering though no wind blew. The power inside him stirred, wild and waiting.
The Raksh-Wolf crouched, ready to strike. Aarav pulled his arrow back, jaw set, the morning light glinting off his dark eyes.
For a heartbeat, everything stood still — the hunter, the boy, the beast.
Then the forest roared.