I left before dawn. The village was dark, the fire low. Elias stood at the edge of the path, his face grey in the dim light. Lora was behind him, wrapped in a blanket, her hair messy from sleep.
"Two days," I said. "If I'm not back by then, don't come looking."
Elias nodded. "Be careful."
Lora didn't say anything. She just touched my hand. Her fingers were cold.
I walked south.
---
The path was narrow, overgrown. The fog was thick, but the sun would burn it off soon. I carried a spear in one hand, a knife on my belt, and a bag of bread in my pocket. My boots were wet from the dew.
I thought about what I was walking toward. Smoke meant fire. Fire meant people. People meant soldiers or refugees. Either way, it was danger.
I thought about the village. Ashridge. The name still felt new on my tongue. The shelters, the stream, the children playing. Lora's hand in mine.
I couldn't let soldiers find them. Not after Oakhaven. Not after the journey. We had built something. Small, fragile, but real.
I walked faster.
---
The smoke was visible even from a distance. A thin grey line rising above the trees. I had seen it from the ridge. Now I was walking toward it.
The forest changed as I went south. The hills flattened. The trees thinned. The ground turned rocky. I passed a stream, then another. The smoke grew closer. Thicker. Not a campfire anymore. A cooking fire, maybe. Or a signal fire.
I stopped at the edge of a clearing.
---
The campsite was small. A fire pit, still warm. Ashes glowing orange in the grey morning light. A bedroll, half‑rolled. Discarded food wrappers – paper, not cloth. Boot prints in the mud. Two sets. Maybe three.
I knelt and looked closer.
The prints were deep. Soldiers. Heavy boots, not villagers. The tread was distinctive – cross‑hatched, military issue. I had seen prints like this before, in Oakhaven, when the messenger came.
I followed them to the edge of the clearing.
A torn piece of cloth hung from a branch. Grey, with a faint emblem. A gear over a crown. Kaelen's symbol.
I pulled the cloth free. It was rough, wool. A piece of a cloak. I folded it and put it in my pocket. Evidence. Proof that soldiers were here.
Then I saw the struggle.
The earth was churned near a fallen log. Broken branches. A dropped knife – soldier issue, steel, not rusted. I picked it up. The blade was clean. No blood. The handle was worn, used.
I looked around. No bodies. No signs of a fight to the death. Just a hurry. Someone had left fast. Maybe they heard something. Maybe they saw something.
Maybe they found the beast.
I heard voices.
---
I dropped behind a boulder. The voices came from the north side of the clearing – the way I had come. Two men. Low, gruff. They weren't whispering. They weren't trying to be quiet.
"...don't know why they sent us out here. Nothing but trees and rocks."
"The captain says there's something in the north. A beast. Big. Killed a deer near the ridge."
"So? That's what beasts do."
"The captain wants it found. Before it kills a patrol."
A second voice, younger. Nervous. "What about the missing patrol?"
Silence.
"They'll turn up."
"They've been gone three days."
Another silence. Then, "We wait for reinforcements. Two days. Then we search the north ridge."
I held my breath.
Footsteps. The soldiers were moving toward the campsite. I pressed myself against the boulder, spear flat against the ground, knife in my hand.
They walked past. I saw their boots. Grey cloaks. Swords on their belts. One of them was older, with a scar on his cheek. The other was young, barely older than me.
They sat by the fire pit. The older one poked the ashes with a stick.
"Should we check the perimeter?" the young one asked.
"No. We stay here. Eat. Rest. Tomorrow, we scout east."
"East? I thought we were going north."
"The captain changed his mind. North is too dangerous. Too close to the beast."
I filed that information away. They were afraid. Good. Fear made people sloppy.
The young one pulled out a piece of bread. He bit into it. "What if the beast comes here?"
"Then we kill it."
"With what? Our swords?"
The older one didn't answer.
I waited. My legs ached. My heart pounded. The boulder was cold against my back.
After a few minutes, the older one stood up. "I'm going to take a piss. Stay here."
He walked toward the boulder.
I held still.
He stopped three feet away. Unbuckled his belt. I could hear him breathing.
I could have stabbed him. Spear through the back. He would never have known. The young one would run, but I could catch him. Two soldiers, dead. No one would know for days.
But then more would come. They always came. And they would find the bodies. And they would search harder.
I stayed my hand.
He finished. Buckled his belt. Walked back to the fire.
I let out a silent breath.
---
I crawled backward, away from the boulder, into the trees. Slow. Quiet. No branches breaking. No leaves rustling. I used my hands to feel the ground before I placed my feet.
When I was far enough, I stood up and walked. Fast. Not running. Running would make noise. Running would leave tracks.
The forest blurred past. My legs burned. My lungs burned. I gripped the spear so hard my knuckles ached.
I thought about what I had heard. Two days. Reinforcements. Then they would search the north ridge. They would find Ashridge. Not right away, but eventually. The smoke from our fires. The path we had worn. The shelters hidden in the valley.
We had time. Not much. But some.
I didn't stop until I reached the stream near Ashridge.
---
The sun was low. The fog was back. I walked into the village. People were lighting the evening fires. The smell of smoke and cooking filled the air.
Elias saw me first. He ran to me, his face tight with worry.
"You're back."
"I'm back."
"What did you find?"
I sat down on a log. My legs were shaking. I pulled out the torn cloth and the soldier's knife and laid them on the ground.
"Soldiers," I said. "Two of them. Camped south. They're looking for the beast. They don't know about us."
Elias picked up the cloth. His fingers traced the emblem. "Kaelen's mark."
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Two now. More in two days. They're waiting for reinforcements."
Elias's face was pale. "Then we have time."
"Not much."
Lora came to me. She put a blanket over my shoulders. Her hands were warm.
"You're cold," she said.
"I'm fine."
She didn't believe me. She sat beside me and put her arm around my back.
---
I called a meeting. Rik, Elias, Marta, Tomas, Paul. We sat by the fire. The flames were low. Sparks floated up into the dark.
"They're looking for the beast," I said. "Not us. Not yet. But when they search the north ridge, they'll find our tracks. The shelters. The smoke from our fires."
Tomas asked, "What do we do?"
"We hide. We cover our tracks. We build a cache in the hills – food, blankets, tools. If they come, we disappear into the forest."
Rik shook his head. "And the beast? It's still out there. If we run, it will follow."
I looked toward the north ridge. Dark. Silent. I thought about the yellow eyes. The grey fur. The needle teeth.
"Then we deal with the beast first."
Marta crossed her arms. "How?"
I didn't have an answer.
---
The meeting ended. People went to their lean‑tos. The fire died.
Elias sat with me. "You're planning to kill it."
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"Who else? Rik is a hunter, not a fighter. Tomas builds. Paul cuts wood. I'm the only one who's killed anything like this."
Elias was quiet for a moment. "The troglodyte almost killed you."
"The troglodyte was in a cave. This is a forest. Different ground. Different fight."
"Still dangerous."
"I know."
He stood up. "Then don't go alone. Take Rik. He can shoot from a distance. At least you'll have someone watching your back."
I thought about it. Rik was brave. He had good aim. But he had never killed anything bigger than a deer.
"Maybe," I said.
---
Lora found me at the edge of the village. I was standing near the stream, looking at the north ridge. The water was dark. The stars were bright.
"You're going to fight it," she said.
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"Maybe not alone."
She took my hand. "Promise me you'll come back."
"I promise."
She didn't let go.
We stood there for a long time. I could feel her heartbeat through her palm. Or maybe it was mine.
Then we heard it. A howl. Low. Long. Coming from the north ridge. Closer than before.
Lora gripped my hand tighter.
"It's getting closer," she whispered.
I didn't answer.
I just stared at the dark.
The soldiers were coming. The beast was coming. And I was the only one who could stop either of them.
I squeezed her hand back.
"Go sleep," I said. "Tomorrow, we prepare."
She didn't move.
"Lora."
"I know." She let go of my hand. "Just come back."
She walked back to the village. I stood alone by the stream.
The howl came again. Closer.
I touched the knife on my belt.
"Not yet," I whispered to the dark.
The dark didn't answer.