Blood Hounds

The wind carried the scent of damp earth and pine as Kael adjusted the straps of his pack. Fenrir stood at the edge of the glade, his silver fur catching the early morning light. The wolf's wounds were still healing, but his posture was strong, his golden eyes fixed on the unseen path ahead.

Kael exhaled. He had told himself he would leave at dawn. That the wolf would go his way, and he would go his.

Yet neither of them moved.

"You planning to follow me?" Kael muttered, glancing at Fenrir.

The wolf did not answer—at least, not in words. But the weight of his gaze was enough.

Kael sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "Fine. Just don't slow me down."

They walked in silence, their steps in rhythm. The forest thickened, shadows shifting between the towering trees. Kael kept a wary eye on his surroundings. The wilderness was dangerous, not just because of beasts, but because of men. He had learned that lesson long ago.

Hours passed before Kael finally spoke. "You remind me of someone."

Fenrir's ears flicked, a silent acknowledgment.

"Lysara," Kael continued, his voice quieter now. "She used to look at me like that. Like she knew something I didn't."

The name tasted like ash on his tongue. It had been years since he'd spoken it aloud.

The past did not rest easily.

Kael clenched his jaw and pushed forward, focusing on the path ahead. But as they moved deeper into the woods, a sense of unease settled in his chest. The trees grew twisted, their bark marred with deep claw marks. The air was thick, heavy with something unseen.

Fenrir let out a low growl.

Kael's hand went to his sword. "You feel it too, don't you?"

A whisper of movement. A shadow slipping between the trees.

Then—a scream.

Not an animal. A person.

Kael didn't hesitate. He broke into a sprint, Fenrir at his side, the past momentarily forgotten.

Fate was leading him somewhere.

And this time, he wouldn't run from it.