I woke before the sun. The village was quiet. The fire was low. I lay in my lean‑to, staring at the roof of branches, replaying the soldier camp in my head. Two days until reinforcements. Two days until they searched the north ridge. Two days until they might find us.
I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the yellow eyes staring from the edge of the village. I saw the grey fur. The needle teeth.
Then Marta screamed.
I was on my feet before my eyes focused. My knife was in my hand. She was standing at the edge of the village, near the path to the hills. Her hands were over her mouth. Her face was white.
"What is it?" I ran to her.
"The cache," she whispered. "It's gone."
---
The cache was a hidden pit near the base of the eastern hill. We had dug it ourselves, lining it with stones and covering it with logs. Inside, we stored dried meat, grain, blankets, and tools – a backup in case we had to flee from soldiers or from the beast. It was our insurance. Our safety net.
Now the pit was torn open. The logs covering it were splintered, clawed apart like twigs. Claw marks raked the earth around it, deep grooves in the soil. Scraps of cloth and scattered grain lay everywhere. A torn blanket hung from a nearby bush.
I knelt. The tracks were huge. Heavy. Four toes, each tipped with a claw as long as my finger. The same tracks I had seen near the deer carcass. The same eyes that had watched from the edge of the village.
"The beast," I said.
Marta was shaking. Her hands were cold. "It took almost everything. We have enough for maybe a week now. Maybe less."
I stood up. My mind was racing. If the beast came again, it would find the village. The lean‑tos. The people. The children.
"I'll track it," I said.
"Alone?" Marta grabbed my arm.
"I don't want to risk anyone else. Rik is a hunter, but he's not a fighter. Elias can't run. I'm the only one who's done this before."
"That thing is dangerous."
"So am I."
I took my spear and knife and walked toward the hills.
---
The tracks led north, away from Ashridge, toward the rocky ground near the old ridge. I followed them slowly, stepping on stones and hard roots to hide my own trail. The forest was quiet. No birds. No squirrels. Just the wind in the leaves and my own breathing.
I thought about what I had seen at the soldier camp. The torn cloth. The dropped knife. They were afraid of this beast. But they were also hunting it. And now it was hunting our food.
I thought about the village. Ashridge. The name still felt new. The shelters, the stream, the children playing. Lora's hand in mine. I couldn't let the beast destroy it. But I also couldn't let fear make me stupid.
The tracks turned east, into a narrow ravine. The walls were steep, covered in thorny bushes. A dead end. I stopped at the entrance and listened.
I heard a whine. Soft. High‑pitched. Not from an animal in pain. From a young one.
I crept forward, spear ready, my heart pounding.
At the end of the ravine, under an overhang of rock, was a den. Twisted branches and dried grass formed a crude nest. And in the nest, three small creatures huddled together. Grey fur. Oversized paws. Eyes not yet open. They squirmed, searching for warmth, for milk.
Pups.
I stopped breathing.
Then I heard a growl. Low. Deep. Behind me.
I turned.
The beast stood at the entrance of the ravine, blocking my way out. She was huge – twice the size of a wolf, with a thick grey coat and shoulders that brushed the ravine walls. Her yellow eyes locked onto me. Her lips pulled back, revealing rows of needle teeth. Saliva dripped from her jaws.
She didn't attack.
She stood between me and her young.
I raised my spear, then lowered it. I looked at her. She was thin. I could see her ribs through her fur. Her teats were swollen – nursing. She was starving. That was why she raided the cache. Not for herself. For them.
"Easy," I whispered. "I'm not here to hurt them."
She didn't move. Her growl deepened.
I took a step back. She snarled and took a step forward. I stopped.
"I'm going to leave," I said, keeping my voice low. "Slowly. Then I'm going to bring food. For you. For them."
She blinked. Her head tilted slightly. The growl faded.
I took another step back. Then another. I kept my eyes on hers, my hands visible, my spear pointed at the ground.
When I reached the ravine wall, I turned sideways and edged around her. She watched me but did not attack. Her nose twitched. She was smelling me.
I walked away. Fast. Not running. Running would trigger her instinct to chase.
I didn't look back.
---
I reached Ashridge at dusk. The sun was gone. The fog was rolling in. My legs were shaking. My hands were cold.
Elias met me at the edge of the village. His face was tight with worry.
"What happened?" he asked.
I told him everything. The den. The pups. The mother. The way she stood between me and her young.
"She's starving," I said. "She raided the cache because she couldn't find enough food for her pups. There's nothing else out there. The forest is empty."
Elias's face was hard. "So what do you want to do? Feed her? We barely have enough for ourselves."
"We have enough to share. A little."
"And when she's full? She'll come back for more."
"Maybe. Or maybe she'll leave us alone."
Elias shook his head. "Ash, that thing is a monster. It could kill us all."
"She's a mother. Just like Marta. Just like Lora's grandmother. She's not evil. She's hungry."
He stared at me for a long moment. Then he sighed. "You're going to do this whether I agree or not."
"Yes."
"Then at least be careful."
I went to the storage pit and took a small bag of dried meat – a day's worth for two people. Lora saw me.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Taking food to the beast."
She stared at me. Her grey eyes were wide. "You're going to feed it?"
"She has pups. She's starving."
Lora didn't argue. She just said, "Be careful."
"I will."
---
I walked back to the ravine in the dark. The moon was hidden behind clouds. The path was hard to see. I used my knife to feel the way.
The beast was waiting at the entrance. Her eyes glowed yellow in the starlight. She was standing, tense, ready.
I stopped twenty paces away. I opened the bag and pulled out a strip of dried meat. I tossed it toward her. It landed halfway between us.
She sniffed the air. Her nose twitched. Then she stepped forward, picked up the meat, and swallowed it in one bite. No chewing. Just gone.
I tossed another piece. Closer to me.
She stepped closer.
We did this until the bag was empty. She was standing ten paces away. Her tail was low, not wagging, but not tucked. She wasn't afraid. Neither was I.
"Tomorrow," I whispered. "I'll bring more."
She watched me leave. Her eyes followed me until I disappeared into the trees.
---
I walked back to Ashridge. The village was asleep. The fires were out. Lora was waiting by the dead fire pit, wrapped in a blanket.
"You fed it," she said.
"Yes."
"Is it going to hurt us?"
I thought about the beast's eyes. The way she had guarded her young. The way she had let me go. The way she had eaten the meat like she hadn't eaten in days.
"No," I said. "I don't think so."
Lora took my hand. "And if you're wrong?"
I looked toward the north ridge, dark against the stars.
"Then I'll deal with it."
She squeezed my hand. "You can't save everyone, Ash."
"Maybe not. But I can try."
She leaned her head on my shoulder. We sat in silence. The wind blew. The stars turned.
I thought about the pups. Their blind eyes. Their hungry whines. Their mother, thin and desperate, standing between them and death.
I thought about the soldiers coming. Two days. They would search the north ridge. They would find tracks. Maybe they would find the den. Maybe they would find the beast.
And then they would kill her.
I didn't sleep that night.
I just stared at the dark and waited for dawn.