"Dire what?" Femi's voice pitched higher as his gaze darted around the frozen woods.
The crunch of snow underfoot was the only sound Femi heard. Varga scanned through the dense, snow-laden forest. Towering pines loomed overhead, their branches sagging under the weight of frost. The air was sharp with cold, and every breath sent plumes of mist swirling into the dim light.
Then, without warning, Varga froze. Her hand snapped up in a silent command, fingers already nocking an arrow to her bowstring. Femi stilled immediately, his large ears twitching as he scanned the trees.
Something was watching them.
Femi's grip tightened on his hand axe, his pulse quickening.
A flicker of movement, grey fur against the white.
His breath caught.
Perched on top a fallen log, its massive paws digging into the frozen bark, was a massive wolf. Its yellow eyes gleamed with predatory intelligence, its muzzle curled back to reveal dagger-length fangs. Frost clung to its thick, shaggy coat, and its breath came in ragged, steaming snarls.
Femi's instincts screamed at him to run, to find a burrow, a crevice, anything to escape. But there was nowhere to hide.
Before he could react, a second wolf emerged from the trees to their left, its massive shoulders rolling with each deliberate step. Then a third, slinking low to the ground, its growl vibrating through the frozen air.
Varga didn't hesitate.
"Take the left one," she growled, her voice firm.
Femi swallowed hard but obeyed, shifting his stance as the wolves circled.
The lead wolf tilted its head, studying them. Then
A howl.
Sharp, piercing, shaking the very air.
The signal.
The wolves attacked.
---
The leftmost dire wolf lunged, its massive body a blur of matted fur and muscle. Femi's instincts screamed, move or die.
He pivoted on his back foot, letting the wolf's snapping jaws graze past his ear. The stench of rotting meat and wet fur flooded his nostrils as he rolled through the snow, his claws digging in for purchase. The cold burned his palms, but he forced himself up into a crouch, axe already gripped tight.
As he faced the wolf, his mind raced with a single, desperate thought:
"Omo ancestors, make I no die to this overgrown dog."
The wolf outweighed him by at least double. It was fast too. Only hope is to aim for the eyes or belly.
The beast circled, yellow eyes locked onto him, saliva dripping from its fangs.
Femi feinted left, shifting his weight as if to run. The wolf bit on the bait, surging forward. At the last second, Femi twisted right, his tail whipping around for balance. His axe lashed out in a short, brutal chop.
The blade bit deep into the wolf's shoulder, severing tendon. The beast yelped, a high-pitched sound of shock and pain, and twisted away. Blood sprayed across the snow, steaming in the cold air.
"Stupid dog, you no go run," Femi lamented.
The wolf charged again, this time leading with its good shoulder. Femi tried to dodge, but he was too slow.
Two hundred pounds of fur and fury slammed into him. The impact drove the air from his lungs as he crashed onto his back, snow exploding around him. The wolf's claws raked his chest, shredding his fur and scoring deep lines of fire across his ribs. Hot blood welled up, staining his fur.
Jaws snapped inches from his face.
Femi barely got his forearm up in time, bracing against the wolf's throat. His muscles screamed as he held back those dagger-length teeth. Saliva dripped onto his face, burning where it touched a shallow cut.
"You no go chop my face today," he shouted.
He couldn't overpower it. But he didn't need to.
Femi bucked his hips, throwing the wolf off-balance for half a second,just enough to twist and drive his clawed feet into its ribs.
A wet CRACK echoed as he struck with the energy of a man who had eaten Hungry Man pack noodles.
The wolf snarled, its grip loosening
Femi's free hand snatched the dagger from his belt. No time to aim. He stabbed upward, the blade sinking into the belly.
The knife punched deep into the wolf's underbelly, grating against bone before piercing soft organs. The beast shrieked, a sound more like a dying chicken than a predator, and reeled back. Femi yanked the dagger free, rolling away as hot blood splashed across the snow.
The wolf staggered, its movements jerky now. Blood poured from its belly wound, turning the snow beneath it into a red slurry. But its eyes still burned with hate.
Femi's frustration boiled over into a loud yell. "You no go die, what's wrong with you?"he exclaimed, his voice laced with exasperation.
He forced himself upright, ignoring the fire in his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one sending needles of pain through his ribs.
The wolf circled, limping, its breath ragged. It was weakening, but so was he.
Femi feinted another dodge to the right. The wolf, desperate now, lunged
And Femi, using his smaller size, dropped low, letting the wolf's momentum carry it over him. As it passed, he turned his body, swinging the axe in a brutal upward arc.
The blade crushed through the wolf's jaw, splitting bone and tearing into its skull. The force of the blow wrenched the axe from Femi's grip, still embedded in the beast as it collapsed.
The dire wolf twitched once, its legs kicking in a final, useless spasm, before going still.
Femi staggered back, his vision swimming. Blood, his and the wolf's dripped from his fur. His chest burned, his arms trembled, but he was alive.
---
While Femi was battling with his wolf, the two remaining dire wolves split apart with eerie precision, their gaunt frames moving in perfect synchronization. The larger one, alpha by the scars on its muzzle circled left while its packmate slunk right, their matted fur bristling with aggression.
Varga's emerald eyes scanned them, her fingers flexing around her bowstring. Calculating trajectories. Her eyes glowed faintly.
"Kuros-Hunter's eyes," she muttered.
Her awareness expanded
Dire Wolf 1 (Alpha): 220 lbs, favoring right paw (old injury visible in gait).
Dire Wolf 2: Younger, leaner, faster reflexes but less armored muscle around vital areas.
Environment: Snow depth uneven ankle-deep near trees, knee-deep in open areas (affects footing).
The alpha struck first, feinting a charge before suddenly veering left to herd her toward its partner. Classic pincer maneuver.
Varga didn't bite.
Instead, she planted her rear foot in a snowdrift for stability and drew in one fluid motion. Her composite bow crafted from yew and reinforced with Krags steel groaned as she pulled to full draw.
Target
Alpha's left eye (smallest lethal target past thick frontal bone).
Arrow Type:Broadhead (designed to punch through hide).
Range: 12 yards (close enough for armor penetration, far enough to react).
The arrow hissed through the freezing air. A wet thock echoed as the broadhead punched through the wolf's eyeball and into its brain cavity. The alpha collapsed mid-stride, its massive body plowing a furrow through the snow as neural shutdown triggered instant death.
The second wolf exploited the momentary distraction, closing the distance in three bounding strides.
Emergency Draw
Draw Time: 1.2 seconds (krag muscle fibers allowed faster cycling than human archers).
Compromise: Couldn't fully anchor, shot went wide of the heart, striking the rear haunch instead.
Effect: Arrow lodged in femur, reducing target's mobility by 40%.
The wounded wolf yelped but used its momentum to launch a snapping lunge. Varga's bowstring tangled in her cloak,no time for another shot.
Close Combat
Drop Bow: Intentional release to free hands (composite bows too valuable to risk breaking).
Weight Shift:Pivoted on lead foot to convert forward momentum into rotational force.
Counterstrike: Right cross aimed at nasal bone (weakest point on canine skull).
Her fist connected with a sound like green wood splitting. The wolf's head whipped sideways, its charge deflected. But the Krags strength came with a cost, the impact splintered two knuckles against its thick skull.
"Time to end this."
Weapon Access:Dagger drawn from inverted shoulder sheath.
Angle of Attack: Upward thrust beneath jawline to bypass cervical vertebrae.
Follow-Through:Twist blade 90 degrees before withdrawal to maximize wound channel.
The wolf gurgled, hot blood cascading over Varga's wrist as its carotid artery severed. It collapsed, limbs spasming in death throes.
Post-Combat Analysis
Ammunition Expenditure: 2 arrows (1 unrecoverable in skull, 1 salvageable from haunch).
Injuries Sustained:
- Fractured knuckles.
Tactical Errors:
- Failed to account for bowstring interference with gear.
- Overestimated alpha's intelligence (expected it to hang back).
Femi's ragged breathing snapped her back to awareness. Her eyes faded back to normal. She wiped her dagger clean on the wolf's pelt before retrieving her bow. The blood freezing on its riser would need careful cleaning later, iced blood could warp the laminations.
"Not bad, rat," she said, flexing her injured hand. The swelling would need binding soon. "For a moment, I thought you'd be dinner."
Femi's retort came between pained gasps. "If your plan was to feed me to those dogs, I am happy to say you failed."
Varga snorted,a sound that sent twin plumes of steam into the air. Effective hunting was a point of pride among her clan's hunters, she should not have gotten injured form this. She kicked snow over the worst of the bloodstains.
"We move," she ordered, scanning the treeline. The fight had taken under four minutes, but in winter forests, predators tracked blood faster than smoke signals. "More will come."
As Femi retrieved his axe from the alpha's skull, Varga noted how the remaining wolves' eyes still held that eerie intelligence even in death. Not ordinary dire wolves, then. Possibly winter-wargs, bred by the northern clans.
That might mean more trouble if correct.