They immediately left as quickly as they came.
They awoke and rode their horses quickly as the moonlight shone on them.
At first it was subtle. A stumble here. A breath held too long there. Then one of the animals let out a low, unhappy sound that Axiomel felt in his chest more than heard. He slowed instinctively, hand tightening on the reins.
Thyrion noticed immediately. "We can't keep this pace."
"I know," Axiomel said.
They didn't argue about it. No one had the energy.
Dawn crept in sideways, light bleeding through the trees in thin strips that didn't warm anything. The forest had thinned just enough to give them space, but not comfort. Tall grass, scattered rocks, old stumps. No shelter worth the name.
Once they had given enough distance from the village, they dismounted slowly.
Axiomel nearly collapsed when his feet hit the ground. His leg buckled, and he would've gone down if Myris hadn't caught his arm.
"Easy," she said quietly.
"I'm fine," he lied.
She didn't respond. Just stayed there a second longer than necessary, steadying him until he could stand on his own.
The horses were worse. One trembled badly, sides heaving. Another kept tossing its head, nostrils flaring.
"They smell it," Eryx muttered. "Us. Them. Everything."
Blood had soaked into their clothes. Their armor. The leather of the saddles. No amount of wiping had helped. If anything, it had spread the scent around more.
Axiomel looked at the treeline.
His skin tingled with alertness.
Movement, barely there. Too smooth for wind. Too deliberate.
"We're being followed," he said.
They chose a small rise, open on three sides, back to a cluster of rocks and fallen logs. Not a camp. Just a place where they wouldn't get flanked easily.
No fire.
No talking above a whisper.
They sat. Or leaned. Or just stood there trying not to sway.
Axiomel sank down against one of the rocks, teeth chattering now that the adrenaline was gone. His body shook in short, ugly tremors he couldn't control anymore.
He hated it.
Myris noticed.
She hesitated, then sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. She didn't say anything at first. Just pulled her cloak loose and shifted it so it covered part of his arm too.
"You're cold," she murmured.
"Shock," he said quickly. "It'll pass."
She glanced at his side, where the bandage was already darkening again. "You're still bleeding."
"Your wounds must have reopned on our way here"
"I've been bleeding since last night."
"That's not the reassuring answer you think it is."
He let out a weak breath that might've been a laugh.
She adjusted the cloak more firmly, pressing closer. Using her body as a source of heat.
Axiomel closed his eyes for a second.
Just a second.
He opened them again when Thyrion shifted.
"There," Thyrion said quietly.
A pair of eyes watched them from the trees.
Then another.
Then more.
Wolves.
Not growling yet. Just there. Spread out enough that it took effort to track them all. Gray shapes sliding between trunks, their movements too coordinated to be accidental.
"They've been on us since the inn," Kastor whispered.
Axiomel nodded. "Yeah."
One wolf stepped forward, testing. Another circled wide, grass rustling softly.
Myris stiffened beside him. Her hand cradled his arm tightly.
"You see how they're spacing?" she asked softly. "They're waiting."
"For someone to fall," Eryx said.
Axiomel pushed himself up despite the protest from every part of his body. His legs wobbled, but he stayed standing.
"Ready up Guys"
Thyrion planted himself a few steps forward, spear angled low. Eryx hefted his hammer, shoulders hunched, breathing loud.
Kastor swallowed. "We can't fight a pack like this. Not like we are in this condition."
"We don't have to," Axiomel said. "We just have to convince them it's not worth it."
One wolf growled.
Another answered, then another like a chain reaction.
Myris shifted closer to Axiomel again, eyes never leaving the treeline. "They're not afraid of us," she said.
"No," Axiomel agreed. "But they're not sure either."
The wolves crept closer.
The first wolf stepped out of the trees.
Walking slowly forward like it already owned the ground. Its fur was matted dark around the mouth, eyes fixed and unblinking.
Axiomel felt Myris tense beside him.
Another wolf appeared to the left. Then one behind the rocks. Then more shapes sliding through brush, spreading wider, slower, cutting angles.
"They're circling us," Kastor whispered.
"Yeah," Thyrion said. "I noticed."
A low growl rolled through the clearing.
Eryx shifted his stance and immediately regretted it. The sound of his boot scraping dirt was enough to make two wolves snap their heads toward him, growling massively.
Axiomel raised his sword a little higher.
Just enough, letting it catch the light to create a sharp glint.
He met the lead wolf's gaze and didn't blink.
The wolf stopped.
It didn't retreat—but it didn't advance either. Its lips pulled back slightly, teeth flashing yellow and wet.
Myris leaned closer, her shoulder brushing his. She didn't look at him, didn't speak loud enough for anyone else to hear.
"If you fall," she said quietly, "I'm grabbing you out of here no matter what it takes."
He almost smiled.
"Don't," he murmured back. "You'll get dragged down with me."
"Then don't fall," she replied.
Another growl. Closer this time.
Thyrion took one step forward and slammed the butt of his spear into the ground. The sound cracked sharp and loud in the stillness.
The wolves flinched back a little.
Eryx followed it up by dragging his hammer across a stone, sparks snapping into the air. He bared his teeth and snarled—an ugly, broken sound that didn't sound human anymore.
The wolves hesitated again.
This wasn't fear.
It was calculation.
Axiomel's legs trembled. His side burned. He could feel warm blood soaking into his clothes again, slow and steady. He focused on breathing. On staying upright.
One wolf darted forward suddenly.
Too fast.
It lunged at Kastor.
Kastor screamed and slashed wildly with his knife. The blade caught fur, then flesh. The wolf yelped and leapt back, limping, blood darkening its flank.
The clearing immediately exploded with noise.
Snarls. Barking. Teeth snapping.
Thyrion hurled his spear.
It struck the ground inches from a wolf's chest, close enough that the animal skidded to a stop, dirt spraying.
Axiomel roared.
It wasn't planned. It tore out of him, hoarse and cracked, all pain and fury and refusal. He took a step forward, sword shaking in his grip, blood dripping visibly from his side onto the grass.
"COME ON," he shouted. "TRY."
The wolves froze.
They stared at him.
At the blood.
At the pack of wounded, furious creatures that refused to lie down.
The alpha stepped forward and then stopped.
It lowered its head slightly.
Not to submit but to reasses the prey in front of it.
A tense second passed.
Then another.
The alpha barked once - sharp, commanding.
The wolves began to withdraw.
Slowly.
Backing away into the trees, eyes never leaving them, bodies tense and ready to spring back at the slightest sign of weakness.
They didn't run or leave. They faded back into the night.
The forest swallowed them again.
Axiomel's knees buckled the moment they were gone.
Myris caught him immediately, arms around his shoulders, holding him upright before he could hit the ground.
"I've got you," she said softly.
He sagged against her, breath ragged. "They're still there."
"I know," she said.