The sun broke over the trees in long, golden beams.
Darius opened his eyes slowly. The cold didn't bother him as much anymore. His body had adjusted—harder, leaner, coiled with energy even in stillness.
He stretched beneath the hide and sat up.
The wolf was gone.
For the first time in days, the silence felt heavier.
No pawprints. No eyes in the trees. Just the morning.
He didn't panic. Instead, he got to work.
There were still things to do.
He spent the early hours carving. Arrow shafts from straight saplings, fletching with feathers from old kills. He used stone flakes to refine the points and tied them with sinew. Each one was different, but deadly.
By mid-morning, the meat was dry enough to wrap. He took the thinnest strips and bundled them in cured bark, tying them tight with leather cord. The rest would stay hanging for one more day, just to be sure.
The boar's hide lay beside the fire, stiff and heavy. He rubbed it down with ashes and water, scraping it clean, then left it stretched between two trunks. It would take time, but once softened, it might serve as a cloak. Or boots. Or armor.
He glanced toward the trees again.
Still no wolf.
With a shrug, he picked up his spear and headed to the stream.
The path was familiar by now. He knew which branches creaked before he stepped on them, which stones would hold his weight and which wouldn't. The water whispered up ahead, and with it came a calm that never quite left him while in motion.
He crouched beside the stream, washing his hands, splashing cold water on his face. Then he stood still for a long moment, letting the silence press in.
Meanwhile
The forest pulsed with sound.
Birds called. Branches creaked. A crow cawed far above.
The wolf moved like wind—swift and low. His jaws still held a strip of meat, smoked and rich with fire. A gift. A proof.
When he reached the ridge, the scent hit him first.
Them.
The pack.
He found them where he knew they'd be—resting in the pine hollow, bellies full from the night's hunt. But not full enough.
He approached with ears low, tail down. Submissive, but not afraid.
The others lifted their heads. Growled.
The alpha stepped forward.
Massive. Dark-furred. Scars across his muzzle from old battles.
The wolf dropped the meat.
A peace offering.
He didn't bow. He didn't whine. He stood.
Let him in.
The others bristled. The alpha stared.
A human?No.
The wolf didn't move.
He feeds me. He hunts like us. He understands.
The alpha growled deep. He is not one of us. He smells of fire. Of lies. Of danger.
Still, the wolf didn't back down.
I make a promise.If you let him live near us, we will never go hungry. Not again.
The silence stretched.
The alpha stepped close, sniffed the meat, then sniffed the wolf.
The promise hung in the air like thunder.
Finally, the alpha turned and walked away.
Not yes. Not no.
But it was a beginning.
The fish crackled over the fire, skin blistering, fat hissing as it dripped onto the coals. Darius crouched nearby, chewing slowly on a charred fillet from his first catch.
The meat was soft, delicate. Different from the boar. Cleaner.
He stared into the flames, eyes distant, mind quiet.
Crunch. Crunch.
Leaves.
Heavy. Deliberate.
He stood in an instant, spear in hand, eyes locked toward the sound.
A man stepped from between the trees.
Tall. Towering, even. At least two meters, built like the stone of the mountain itself. His hair fell silver and thick around his shoulders, framing a face carved by wind and time — lined but sharp, with dark eyes that still held fire.
He didn't raise a weapon. Just looked.
"Easy," the man said. His voice was deep, gravelly. "If I wanted you dead, I'd have waited until you were chewing."
Darius didn't lower the spear.
"Who are you?"
The man smiled faintly and glanced at the fire.
"You caught that fish with that stick?" He pointed at the spear.
Darius nodded.
"Not bad." He stepped closer, slowly, hands in the open. "Been watching you for a while. Figured it was time we talked."
Darius kept his stance.
"Why now?"
The old man chuckled, settling onto a rock with a grunt.
"Because I got bored."
He pulled something from under his cloak — a leather pouch — and tossed it toward Darius.
Darius caught it mid-air. Dried berries. He looked back at the man, still unsure.
"I live up the mountain. Alone. Been alone a long time. You're the first interesting thing I've seen in years."
"You're spying on me?"
"Observing," the man corrected. "Same thing your little friend does when he's not stealing your leftovers."
Darius's eyes narrowed slightly.
"So... you're just here to chat?"
"Maybe. Maybe more." The man leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Tell me your name."
"Darius."
"Hmm." He nodded slowly. "You don't talk like the boys from the valley. You don't move like them either."
"I'm not from the valley."
"I can tell."
They sat in silence for a moment. The fish sizzled.
Darius lowered the spear — just a little.
Darius hesitated… then reached into the fire with a stick and pulled free one of the fish. Crispy. Still steaming. He offered it to the man.
The old giant raised an eyebrow, then took it.
"Thanks," he said, and took a bite. "Been a while since I tasted something that wasn't roots or dried leaves."
Darius sat down again, but kept his spear across his knees.
"So. Your name?"
The man licked some oil from his thumb.
"Arkantos."
He glanced at Darius, tilting his head slightly.
"And yours?"
"Darius."
Arkantos chuckled. "Fitting."
Darius narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
The man chewed slowly, thinking.
"Because you don't move like a shepherd's son. You don't talk like a farmer's brat either. You act like someone who's had discipline drilled into his bones."
He paused, looking Darius up and down.
"Let me guess. You're here because someone thinks this place will kill you. That, or make you stronger."
Darius shrugged.
"Punishment," he said simply.
That got Arkantos's attention.
"Punishment?" he echoed. "You?"
Darius tore off a piece of his fish and smiled.
"Yeah. I hit someone I wasn't supposed to."
Arkantos leaned forward, intrigued. "Who?"
"The First," Darius said, chewing.
Silence.
"The First," Arkantos repeated. "You mean… a Primer?"
Darius nodded.
Arkantos blinked, slowly. "You struck a Primer?"
"Jaw," Darius replied, tapping his own chin lightly with two fingers — a soft mimic of the hit, his grin widening.
"Dropped him, too. Just for a moment."
He started to laugh at the memory — not a loud laugh, but the kind that comes from deep satisfaction. From pride.
Arkantos just stared at him.
Darius looked into the fire.
"At first, I thought this was just punishment. A lesson in obedience. But now... I'm not so sure."
Arkantos raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"They know I can take pain. Hunger. Cold. I went five days without food and didn't flinch. The Marshall saw it. The Primer felt it."
He poked at the coals absently.
"This wasn't about making me stronger.
Darius continued. "It was a warning."
He picked up a small branch and broke it between his fingers, slow and deliberate.
"No matter how talented you are, obedience comes first in Sparta. That's the rule."
Arkantos gave a slow nod, eyes thoughtful.
But Darius didn't say the rest out loud.
I was a soldier. I can follow orders. I always did. As long as they don't ask me to kill children... or innocents...
They both fell silent after Darius's thought. The fire crackled softly between them.
Then Arkantos's nose twitched, and he turned his head toward the trees.
He smiled.
"Well, well… looks like your friend is coming back. And he's not alone."
Darius raised an eyebrow. "What?"
The old man pointed casually toward the far edge of the clearing, past the smoke.
Darius stood and narrowed his eyes. The trees rustled—quiet, deliberate. More than one shape. He could feel it. The same instinct that told him where to place a spear, where to hide a snare.
He turned back to Arkantos to confirm—But the rock was empty.
No sign of the old man. No footsteps. No cloak. No voice.
Only the fire.And the half-burnt wood where Arkantos had been sitting. And… the rest of the fish.
Gone.
Darius exhaled sharply through his nose, amused.
"Greedy old bastard," he muttered.
Still, he didn't feel anger. Just a strange sense of balance.
He still didn't know what to make of the man. Arkantos moved like a ghost, talked like a general, and disappeared like smoke. Was he dangerous? Helpful? Something else?
Darius didn't trust easily. But he trusted instinct. And something about that old giant didn't feel like a threat.
He turned his eyes back to the forest—And there he was.
The wolf.
Fully in view now, emerging from the trees with the same calm confidence as before.
But this time… others followed.
A pair of smaller wolves padded behind him, cautious but curious. Then three more, shadows gliding through the trees. They didn't snarl. Didn't posture.
They watched Darius.
Watched the fire.
And stayed.