There was heavy silence that evening, with the only sound the faint hiss of dying embers. Two figures were stretched out in the recesses of the cavern, their forms mere suggestions from the last wisps of flame.
One of them, Leo, was curled up against the rocky wall, his breathing even but not deep enough to suggest actual sleep. His muscles ached from the strain of remaining vigilant, but his mind teetered on the edge of slumber.
The other, the traveler, was still—too still. Unblinking eyes, fixed completely on the boy beside him.
There was something disquieting in the way the stranger stared at Leo, eyes unblinking, posture stiff but unreadable. His fingers trembled infinitesimally, as though resisting the urge to move.
The night passed.
And eventually, Leo slept.
Leo awoke with a startled gasp, scolding himself for letting his guard down. He quickly assessed his surroundings—his equipment was still intact, and the stranger was where he had been the night before.
Except now, something was wrong.
The traveler's face was paler than before, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His breathing was strained, and his hands trembled as he attempted to sit up.
Leo arched his eyebrows. Is he sick?
The man winced gently, only now noticing Leo's staring. "I don't feel so good…" he groaned, swiping his hand across his face.
Leo stepped in at once, maintaining his stern expression. "You appear ill," he noted, pressing the back of his hand against the stranger's brow. His face was clammy and slightly cooler than normal.
"Please remain here," Leo instructed while he dug his hand into the pouch and took out an Azure Brineleaf. He dabbed it momentarily in a miniature wooden bowl full of water and then pressed the leaf to the man's brow. "It should relieve the pain somewhat.
The stranger sighed, seemingly relieved by the cool touch. "Thanks, kid."
Leo nodded before standing. "You need rest. I'll get more water and try to find food."
The man didn't argue, simply giving a weak nod.
Leo turned and left the cave, his mind already moving ahead. He knew exactly what he needed to do.
Leo soon set about collecting water, using the wooden bowl to scoop up as much as he could and bring it back to the cave. On his stroll through the woods, he also spotted another patch of resin—something he had learned was useful for crafting. He scooped up a handful, forcing it into his pouch and continuing on.
When he returned, the stranger was awake but worse off. He drank a mouthful of water when Leo offered it to him, swallowing greedily.
Leo watched him closely.
Then as soon as the man had enough, Leo took up his spear and went hunting again.
Hunting was slower this time. Unlike the previous day, when rabbits had practically flooded the area, today the forest was eerily quiet. It took nearly half an hour before he finally spotted a single rabbit.
Leo moved with practiced precision, positioning his spear before striking cleanly. As he retrieved his kill, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. I'm getting better at this.
He went back to the cave, frantically preparing and cooking the rabbit. He soaked some Azure Brineleaf in water this time and used the resulting salty dregs to add a touch of flavor to the meat. It wasn't a lot, but it made the otherwise flavorless meat a bit more palatable.
The stranger, although clearly fatigued, ate with ease. Leo observed him closely but kept the conversation superficial.
"You must rest after this," Leo said to them once they had eaten.
The man didn't complain, rolling over right away. His breathing grew rough, his frame heavy.
Leo watched him for a few seconds before turning around. He was not sleeping tonight.
Once he was sure the stranger was asleep, Leo grabbed his spear and crept quietly out of the cave.
The night air was chilly, but his mind was more sharply concentrated than ever. He needed to shake his head.
He strolled down to the river, crouching down to splash cool water over his face. The flash of insight didn't last—because the instant he rose to his feet, the rest of his body stiffened.
Standing on the opposite side of the river, in the silver moonlight, was a pack of wolves.
Leo's breath was cut short. His heart beat loud against his ribs.
He turned on God's Eye, and his eyes pierced as he scoured the creatures.
Silver-colored fur. Strained muscles. Same as they were before.
His blood went cold.
They were the same wolves from the previous encounter. The same pack that had tormented the camp.
Panic ran through him, but he trained himself to walk slowly. Steady, deliberate steps. No sudden motion.
He drove his legs into a steady pace, away from the river.
And then, the moment he was far enough—ran.
Ran hard through the forest, his breathing strained, his head screaming at him to run faster. Stumbled, came within inches of crashing, but pulled himself forward.
Once, glimpsed a rabbit—but gave no attention whatsoever. Nothing else mattered except for going home.
By the time he reached the cave, his chest was burning with exhaustion. He collapsed onto the ground, panting.
The stranger continued to sleep.
Leo rested against his spear, but sleep would not claim him. His mind was too busy, his body too tight.
So he simply lay there, staring at the cave ceiling, waiting for the night to pass.