The valley—once theirs—no longer belonged to them.
Colin didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't even breathe too loudly.
His eyes locked onto the massive figure stepping out from the ridge.
The alpha.
The mind behind the hunt.
The Giant Snow Wolf.
Not a beast.
A commander.
And that—
Changed everything.
"...Not strays," Colin muttered under his breath.
"They came organized."
Below, the semicircle tightened.
Step by step.
Silent.
Relentless.
The wolves didn't rush.
Didn't roar.
Didn't waste energy.
They knew.
The prey in front of them—
Was already exhausted.
Haske swallowed hard, forcing his trembling hand to steady the spear.
"Chief…" his voice dropped to a whisper. "We can't fight this many."
He was right.
Thirty exhausted werewolves.
A handful of fox-men.
Scattered boar and deer-men.
Against over fifty—
No.
More.
An entire pack of Giant Snow Wolf, fresh, coordinated, and patient.
And worse—
They were smarter.
Colin's grip tightened on his blood-slick sword.
But his mind—
Was calm.
Colder than the wind.
"Of course," he said quietly.
"They waited."
Everything clicked into place.
The bear.
The deer.
The chaos.
The blood.
The howl.
All of it—
A signal.
Not just to the wild.
But to them.
Colin slowly exhaled.
Then—
He smiled.
Not with relief.
Not with madness.
With recognition.
"You're not here to kill us," he said, his voice suddenly steady.
The alpha wolf stopped.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Its black eyes shifted—
From the corpses…
To Colin.
A spark of something flickered.
Interest.
"You're here," Colin continued, raising his sword slightly—not in threat, but in declaration—
"...to take this."
The wind howled between them.
Carrying blood.
Carrying tension.
Carrying intent.
The Giant Snow Wolf tilted its head slightly.
Not confused.
Evaluating.
Around them, the pack tightened formation.
Closer.
Closer.
One wrong move—
And it would become a slaughter.
But Colin raised his free hand.
"Drop nothing," he said softly to his people.
"Hold formation."
No panic.
No retreat.
Because retreat—
Would trigger instinct.
And instinct—
Would mean death.
Instead—
He stepped forward.
Alone.
"Chief—!" Haske hissed.
"Stay," Colin said without turning.
Every step he took crushed frozen blood beneath his boots.
Closer.
Closer—
Until he stood at the very edge of the invisible line.
Man—
And predator.
Facing each other.
"I know this game," Colin said, his voice low, controlled.
"You followed the scent."
"You waited for the kill."
"You conserved your strength."
His eyes locked onto the alpha's black gaze.
"Efficient."
A pause.
Then—
"But here's the problem."
His grip on the sword tightened—
Just slightly.
"We're not prey."
The wind stilled.
The pack did not move.
But the tension—
Snapped tighter.
Colin's voice dropped to a whisper that still carried across the silence.
"If you rush us, you'll win."
A truth.
A dangerous one.
Several wolves shifted—
Sensing weakness.
But Colin's next words cut deeper.
"You'll also bleed."
The alpha didn't blink.
Colin tilted his head—just slightly.
"And in this place…"
His gaze flicked, ever so briefly, toward the cliffs.
Toward the forest.
Toward the unseen.
"…bleeding means something else comes next."
Now—
That landed.
The alpha's ears twitched.
Because it understood.
This valley—
Was not empty.
It never was.
The Frostclaw Bear had proven that.
And there could be more.
Always more.
Silence stretched.
Then—
The alpha took one step forward.
The pack froze.
Command.
Absolute.
It lowered its head slightly—
Not submission.
Consideration.
Colin didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't yield.
Two apex wills—
Colliding without a single strike.
Then—
Slowly—
Very slowly—
The alpha's gaze shifted again.
Not to Colin.
But to the mountain of meat.
The deer.
The bear.
The blood.
And back.
A negotiation.
Unspoken.
Primitive.
Clear.
Colin exhaled softly.
"…Good."
Because he understood too.
This—
Was no longer a battle.
It was a bargain.
Written in blood.
And survival.