The drums pulsed like a heartbeat in the wild, thumping deep into the ground and up through my feet, syncing my own chest to their raw, untamed beat. It was impossible to ignore, like the jungle itself was alive and calling me in.
Lira and I had just slipped past the thornwire fence ringing Shadowfang Village, a messy tangle of vines and spikes that scratched at the air like a warning to outsiders. One wrong step, and it'd snag you good.
The night air felt thick under the swollen moon, heavy with woodsmoke and that wild, earthy scent that stuck to your skin like a secret dare. Part thrill, part chill—hard to say which pulled harder.
Shadowfang wasn't some neat little town; it was a wild sprawl of rough stone huts huddled around a massive fire pit, like the place had grown straight from the dirt, claws and all. Forges glowed in the distance, their orange flickers dancing shadows across everything, turning the whole scene into a hazy dream before I'd even caught a whiff of those mind-bending herbs.
Eyes gleamed from every corner with dozens of them, sharp and watchful, from the pack's beastkin wolves. Fur-tipped ears twitched at the smallest sound, tails swished lazy-like, sizing me up: chase-worthy or just trouble?
The women lounged against walls or perched on bone-woven seats, their ragged hides hugging curves that screamed strength and grace with soft swells straining leather ties, hips built for prowling hunts, thighs that could pin you in a heartbeat. A glance from them hit like a spark, warm and teasing, making your pulse skip.
Low laughs rumbled like far-off thunder, mixed with curious stares and flared nostrils, like they could already sense the stranger's sweat on the breeze. It was that electric mix of danger and drawn the kind that had me straightening up, fighting the urge to grin or bolt.
Lira's fingers brushed my arm as we waded deeper into the glow, her claws grazing just enough to tingle without scratching.
A shiver raced down my back, landing low and warm. "Chin up, Saul," she whispered, her voice that smoky growl, wrapping around me like velvet fog, pulling thoughts to places they shouldn't wander yet.
There was a fierce care in her words, edged with heat like she'd already decided I was hers to guard, her tail flicking my leg in a quick, playful nudge that fanned the spark from our boar-hunt chat.
She guided me to the fire's heart, where the pack circled loose around the pit. Flames licked high, carving their silhouettes: graceful lines in bone beads that clinked with every sway, breaths rising in time to the drums, hips swaying like they owned the stars.
The air buzzed with their vibe, pressing close, raising goosebumps. Barks of laughter cut through snarls and soft purrs, stirring something restless in me. These weren't my old-world suits and smiles; these were hunters, born to chase, bond, and claim with zero regrets.
Then an elder wolfkin stepped forward, parting the crowd like she owned the night. Silver threaded her dark fur, sharpening her dagger-edged face, amber eyes pinning me like prey. Taller than Lira, shoulders broad from scars and stories, her hides clung to a form that whispered of wins and whispers with full curves laced tight, waist dipping to hips that promised a wild ride, thighs scarred but strong.
"Lira's stray?" Her voice rolled like thunder over gravel, circling me slow, sniffing the air. "Skinny pup, no tail, reeks of sea salt and storms like he crawled from the waves. Why drag this one home, girl?"
Murmurs rippled, tails lashing, growls humming low. Their stares peeled me bare the pale skin without claw-marks, the lean build yelling "outsider," my quickening breath giving away how their energy tugged at me, sneaky and sweet.
Lira tensed, claws out, but the drums boomed louder, swallowing the buzz in a chant that vibrated my bones. Ancient words wove in, urgent and deep, dragging up buried instincts from too many boardroom cages.
Lira had teased me about it on the trail, her breath warm on my neck: the Rutting Moon Festival. Where the pack ditched polite masks for beast-true hearts. Half sacred hunt for the moon's grace, half wild party of bonds and fire—blurring lines till you forgot where survival ended and surrender kicked in. The sort of night that'd make city lights feel dull, forging ties in shared heat and howls, claiming strangers or sending 'em packing.
Torches blazed brighter, flames twisting shadows over skin and straps, every curve a moonlit tease. Folks edged closer, hands linking soft on arms, sighs weaving through songs like hidden invitations with a sway of souls under watchful stars.
The air thickened, humming with that near-touch buzz.
Sable, that's what Lira called the silver alpha, half awe, half edge, halted inches away, her warmth hitting me like a wave, fur-spice mixing with smoke. Her tail whipped once, tip grazing my thigh in a linger that sparked straight through me.
She leaned in, eyes gold slits.
"Wanna belong, tail-less? Earn it with the Flames' Mark calls you. Hold steady, and maybe we'll welcome you to the circle, see what fire you bring."
Her top strained as she shifted, a teasing glimpse that made my throat dry. "But crack? Fire claims all, leaves scraps for the winds."
My mouth turned to sand, her words heavy as chains, but I flashed that CEO smirk, the one that closed empires over wine and winks.
"Fire? I've danced with worse. Lead on, Alpha. Let's test if yours bites as deep as it stares."
Surprised chuckles broke the pack, cut quick, Sable's fangs flashing in a grin full of dare.
She nodded to the pit, and callused hands, clawed but carefully grabbed my arms, pulling me through the crowd.
Whispers trailed everywhere like a public comments:
"Feisty pup."
"Bet he sings sweet."
"Longer than the last wanderer?"
.....
The pit gaped, coals glowing alive, edged with herb bundles curling smoky-sweet. Lira's warning echoed: mind-benders, stripping fakes to bare your core.
Sable scooped ash from a bowl, powder dusting her fingers like battle dust. She traced it over my chest, slow swirls lingering on my skin, thumb circling till my breath caught, a warm buzz chasing chills.
"Sip the smoke deep, pup," she purred low, just for me, breath hot on my collarbone. "Visions hit fast let them show your truth... or shatter you."
Chants roared, pack swaying spellbound. Through the haze, glimpses flickered: a lynx scout leaning into her partner's touch, hand gentle on her side, drawing a contented sigh. Wolf-sisters close, arms linked, lips brushing in soft promise; touches light, breaths quick, sighs rising like offerings to the blaze.
I dropped to my knees at the edge, heat kissing my skin like curious flames, toasting hairs till they danced. First lungful of smoke? Honey-sweet, then sharp as old regrets. World spun, colors sharpening to knives.
Memories cracked through: Juvia's dress slipping like silk in the jet's glow, her eyes fierce with want and shadows as she knelt close. "It's you, Saul," she'd breathed, voice trembling, but it warped with her fingers on the sabotage, the sweet lie burning false.
"You loved me enough to end it?"
The echo ripped raw, her ghost flickering over coals, form curling near even as waves crashed cold, drowning our fragile spark.
Gods, the hurt twisted sharp, flooding hot, my pulse thundering wild against the chaos, emotions spilling like unchecked fire.
[SYSTEM ALERT: Hallucinogenic Haze Detected.
Warning: Emotional Surge Detected—Lust Overload Risk High.]
[Emergency Stabilize: User Safeguard Engaged.]
The ping snapped me back, blue glow steadying my blur. But then, hiss. Sable's needle, red-hot from coals, pressed into my chest.
Pain bloomed fierce, vision narrowing, teeth clenched. The haze twisted it wild: sparks racing spine-deep, nerves humming alive in a dizzy rush.
I swallowed a growl, ragged and real, as she etched the Fang swirls biting skin, searing like her gaze, claiming me pack.
Sweat stung fresh lines, but under the burn hummed a strange thrill, pain weaving with haze till I shifted restless, dirt cool under me.
The pack leaned in, eyes hungry-curious, breaths syncing quick to my blood's tang in the air.
Vexa, the fox scout from earlier edged closest, russet hides hugging her sly lines, ears perked, lips curving fang-sharp. Lithe and teasing, tail hypnotic, her gaze dipped playful, like she was already scheming midnight chats.
Lira knelt fast as Sable eased off, breath warm on the mark, tongue flicking gentle to soothe, salt-herb taste flooding soft.
"You held strong, storm-boy," she murmured, pride husky, hand gliding down my side to rest easy, fingers tracing lazy resolve's edge. "Like a hunter born, got me wondering what else you'd chase... whispers in the dark, arms wrapped tight."
Her touch teased just right, thumb circling warmth's hint, pulling a sharp breath as drums thrummed, shadows closing playful.
Eyes watched from dark, patient, prowling. A silver scrape whispered on stone, gone quick, prickling my neck. Omen of howls ahead, or the god's far watch on my stumbles.
But the blaze swallowed it, festival's pull dragging us deep like a shared dream.
Dawn crept gray, mark pulsing under Lira's salve, her fingers brushing low, promising talks when quiet fell.
"Easy now," she breathed, lips grazing my ear, eyes alight with quiet fire.
Embers cooled, chants to yawns, forms tangled soft in afterglow.
Vexa slipped past as Lira fetched water, tail silky on my leg, purr sly. "Cave whispers east, crystals throbbing like moon-heat, growing a guy's edge till the pack's hooked." Guardians bite deep, scars eternal.
Teeth gleamed wicked, gone in mist before Lira turned.
Trouble brewing, silver-scented, rivals prowling.
I eyed the coals, spotting wilted herb clumps—system pinged soft.
[SYSTEM: F-GRADE EMBERLEAF (Stamina Base). Scan: +20 LP. Total: 86/100. Craft Unlocked. Explore Soon—Sect Needs It.]
So close to that power nudge. Sun clawed ridges red, a howl cracked sharp, too near.
Silver scouts? Or worse, god's shadow tightening fate. Pack stirred wary, Lira's hand in mine, claws light warning.
Flames branded me, but the true spark? Just flickering alive.