Having narrowed down the objective, Alan tucked Kiki under his arm and sprinted toward the werewolves' trail. By now, the sun had fully retreated, leaving only a sliver of a crescent moon to cast a skeletal light over the world, though even that weak glow failed to pierce the suffocating canopy of the forest.
In this pitch-black landscape, the only company was the rot of decaying leaves, the musk of animal droppings, and the discordant symphony of the wind whistling through the branches alongside the hoarse, inexplicable cries of nocturnal birds. It was a place of deep, eerie solitude.
Yet, Alan maintained a blistering pace. He moved with predatory fluidity, ignoring the treacherous terrain of roots, pits, and jagged rocks as he navigated the dense timber.
Kiki, however, was far from composed. Tucked firmly under his arm, she felt the wind whipping her face so hard it was difficult to breathe. The darkness before her, punctuated by the occasional glint of predatory eyes in the underbrush, had her trembling with primitive terror.
"Master, it's too terrifying! Something spooky is watching us! Help!" Kiki finally broke, her voice a thin wail.
"Don't be afraid. Those are just the eyes of owls. From now on, stay silent. Noise will only expose us prematurely," Alan cautioned in a low, vibrating tone.
"Yes, Master." Though she was a bundle of nerves, Kiki was fiercely loyal. she clamped her small hands over her mouth, muffling her own breath.
Aided by his Echo Spell and the Tracing Charm, Alan remained locked onto his quarry. The thickening scent of musk and the clear indentations in the soft earth proved he was closing the gap. To avoid detection, he used no magical light, and the silent module of his Phase Boots ensured his footsteps left no sound. He moved like a ghost through the shadows.
The high-speed pursuit continued for over an hour, covering nearly fifteen kilometers before he finally located the pack. Alan sensed a shift in the environment and skidded to a halt. Kiki, already jostled by the run, felt her head spin at the sudden stop.
"Master?" she whispered tentatively.
"Shh." Alan pressed a finger to his lips.
He set Kiki down and performed a precise gesture, swiping his index and middle fingers down the front of his chest. His robes emitted a soft magical hum, and a translucent aura rippled outward from his collar to his boots. To Kiki's eyes, the fabric briefly shimmered with a dense, alien runic pattern before settling into a dull, non-reflective gray.
"You can speak now, Kiki, but stay within one meter of me. If you wander out, the werewolves will catch your scent and hear your heart beating."
"Yes, Master," Kiki whispered, staring at his clothes. "But... what was that magic?"
"This? It's a Glimmer Cloak," Alan said with a thin smile. "When activated, it dampens all sound and scent within a small radius and projects a localized Disillusionment Charm. It makes us invisible and undetectable to the senses."
"Master is so amazing! My old master never had such treasures!" Kiki's eyes sparkled with genuine admiration.
"It's functional, though its duration is shorter than a true Invisibility Cloak. It requires regular magical upkeep. Enough talk—we need to replenish our energy before we move in." He pulled two strips of dried meat from his pouch and handed one to her.
"Is this... meat? Master, Kiki isn't worthy. Before, Kiki only got meat once a year," she said hesitantly.
"Eat it. In the field, you must be as decisive with your food as you are with your spells." Alan fixed her with a look that brooked no argument before he began to chew on his own rations.
"Yes, Master. Master is so kind to Kiki." With tears pricking her eyes, the elf stuffed the oversized piece of jerky into her mouth.
While they ate, Alan used the Echo Spell to scout ahead. Even without the Tracing Charm, the foul, heavy stench of the werewolves was now palpable. After a quick drink of water, he hoisted Kiki back up and leaped onto a massive tree trunk, scaling the vertical bark like a ninja. He moved through the high canopy, jumping from branch to branch until he reached a vantage point overlooking the source of the noise.
Stationed twenty meters above the forest floor, the sounds of the struggle became clear. A hundred meters ahead, the guttural roars of werewolves clashed with the sharp *twang* of centaur bowstrings.
"They've engaged," Alan whispered, finding a gap in the foliage. "Can you see the wizard who attacked you?"
"No, Master. It's too dark, and the trees are in the way," Kiki said, her voice dropping. "I'm sorry... am I being useless again?"
"I told you to stop saying that," Alan said sternly. "Let's get closer. Watch your step; do not brush against the leaves."
He navigated through the upper boughs for another few dozen meters until they reached a tree with an unobstructed view of a low-lying clearing. The centaurs were easy to spot; they held torches aloft, their three-meter frames casting long, dancing shadows against the trees.
There were seven or eight of them in total. Alan noted that three were smaller and beardless—juveniles. They were trapped in a natural bowl. Steep rocky highlands rose to their left and behind them, while a wall of freshly felled timber blocked the path to their right. The cuts on the logs were too clean for a storm; they had been severed by a Blasting Curse to create a deliberate kill box. Alan and Kiki watched from the trees directly above the barricade.