#shadow wip

Feyre would never get used to the tremble in a grown man's voice at the mere sight of her. She was not particularly tall. Her long ginger hair and a face full of freckles were not what she considered particularly frightening either. Yet, the sight of the dark clothes and the weapons, each stamped with the Shadow's crest, announced who she was and did so as well as any herald.

"I would like a room."

"Certainly," he nodded frantically, calling to the maid at the end of the bar. The sudden hectic activity had caught the attention of the others in the tavern. She could feel their eyes on her. The maid came over and exchanged a few whispered words with the man before she disappeared up a set of stairs in the back of the room. "You will have to forgive us for not having a room ready. We don't get many travelers in these parts, you see."

"That's fine. I'll have a glass of mead while I wait."

The road to Lin had been long.

She dropped onto the nearest stool, studiously ignoring the eyes on her back. The barman served her a tall glass of pale mead with a shaky hand. "Thank you kindly." While Feyre never sat out to spook the locals, she had discovered years ago it gave her a sense of pleasure; a little light in the dark business of a Shadow. "I have a horse outside; are there stables where I could house it?"

"Of course, we have them around back. I will take care of it right now."

The man left in a great hurry, allowing the Shadow to enjoy her drink without his fearful gaze trained on her. Sure, the others still watched her but she could ignore them. Or, well, she would have tried until one proved to be particularly brave and took the seat next to her. She turned her head to him curiously as she drank. He was one of the younger men. Skin tanned by the summer sun. Hair bleached to gold. Eyes the color of Arncaster Lake at high noon. A child of summer if she had ever seen one.

He could be no more than twenty-five. Those shocking blue eyes flitted back and forth between her face, her empty hand on the edge of the bar, and the knives strapped to her chest - at least, she hoped they focused on the knives. A light stubble covered his chin and cheeks. He folded his bare forearms on the bar and allowed himself to lean forward a little, gaining a clearer look at her face. She looked him in the eye, wondering if he would be bold enough to hold her gaze.

As it turned out, he was.

"Are you here to deal with the Mistbeast?"

She arched an eyebrow; the Lightless had not given her a name for the beast they had sent her to deal with. How many monsters could there be in Blackwood Forest though? Surely they were one and the same. She nodded. The young man's shoulders sagged in obvious relief.

"You could have come sooner," one of the other men called out.

Turning in her seat, she stared unwaveringly at the man. It would take little more than the blink of an eye, she mused. She could be out of her seat and at his side with a knife pressed to his throat in a snap. It would frighten him and allow her to work in peace. Instead, she opted for the second option. "I could leave again, if you are not happy with me," she suggested. "Please feel free to file a complaint with the Order of Shadows."

Feyre moved to rise from her seat. The one beside her immediately grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. Her eyes shot to him, sliding down to his hand on her. He immediately released her. "We are glad to have a Shadow here." No one was ever happy to have a Shadow in their midst; it meant secrets might be exposed, it meant people might die. However, considering what had brought her here, these people might actually be the first in history to be happy to see a Shadow.

"Tell me about this Mistbeast," she urged.

The Lightless had had few details to give her; the last thing Feyre wanted was to walk into Blackwood Forest unprepared. If this man was so glad she was here, let him help her. The barmaid came down and put a small iron key down in front of her without a word. The other men had quieted but still watched the Shadow at the bar, albeit more carefully and surreptitiously.

"The Mistbeast is a creature that has roamed the Blackwood for generations now. At first, the lumberjacks and the hunters would catch glimpses of it deep into the woods. Their stories say the beast is as tall a horse but moves through the forest with the swiftness of a Shadow. It is as deadly as a wolf. None who have faced it have lived." She nodded, though old wives' tales weren't what she needed. "It used to live in the deepest parts of the forest. We left the Mistbeast alone and it would leave us alone."

"Not anymore," she guessed.

He shook his head. "A group of hunters tried to catch and kill it. They failed and were killed instead. Since then, it has attacked all those who venture too deep into the woods. Recently, it has been coming closer and closer to Lin. At night, we can hear its howls. Some claim to have heard the Mistbeast walk through our streets, sometimes growling but otherwise silent."

"They are not just claims, boy! It's the truth," the old man interjected.

Feyre nodded again. No animal would come into a town of any size if it didn't have to. The only reason this Mistbeast would leave the cover of the trees would be a lack of food elsewhere. Considering the trade of furs had neither increased nor decreased, Feyre assumed there to be plenty of prey within the forest. Could it have come to town for another reason?

"How regularly does a party set out to hunt it?"

Because the town couldn't afford to remain passive when its livelihood depended on those woods.

"The last party left only two nights ago. None have returned. They are probably all dead."

In all likelihood.

The barman came back in, white as a sheet as he slammed the door closed behind him, locking it for good measure. "It's out there," he whispered to the room. "The sun has barely set but it is already on its way to Lin. It is best if everyone stays here tonight."

"It can sense the Shadow," a man behind her exclaimed in fright.

Feyre rolled her eyes at the assumption. She had known, somewhere at the back of her mind, there was a reason she usually didn't reveal her Shadow-self in public as she had done here. Now she remembered what that reason was. Finishing her ale, she put her glass down and snatched up the key. "Do you know the woods?" she asked the blond.

His blue eyes returned her stare; she wondered how much it would take to frighten him. She wasn't sure she wanted to try. How long had it been since anyone other than a fellow Shadow or a sorcerer had not been afraid of her?

"I do."

"Good. Tomorrow, you will take me to the different attack sites."

With one last look around the room, she bid everyone a good night and took herself upstairs to find her room. The next day Feyre would examine the area to determine what she faced. Once she had an idea of her foe, she could plan how to take it down.

🌲🐺⭐🌲

Lin did not look much better in the light of dawn. The houses had been built with wood and partially covered in plaster. Over time, the wood had started to rot, while a layer of grime had covered the plaster. When she stepped back into the square, she could feel the cobbles through the soles of her shoes, worn and flattened by the passage of time and countless feet. People had appeared from their houses, filling the central area with activity. Women collected water from the well, others gathered baskets, talking animatedly. Men gathered in groups, counting arrows, testing bowstring or sharpening axes. Children ran through the throngs of adults. Branching off the square, the roads turned to dirt, their cobbles having long since disappeared beneath the mud and grime.

"Shall we set off?"

The blond had left the inn a while ago. She hadn't asked him where he had gone, she hadn't asked him if he would come back. Feyre knew he would take his appointment as her guide very seriously. Otherwise, the other men would have reminded him; no one wished to risk a Shadow’s anger. The Order’s dark reputation certainly had its benefits. Now, standing before her, it was clear he had gone home. A different set of clothes, far better suited to the forest, a bow and quiver strapped to his back, his hair brushed back.

An easy smile.

Behind him stood a horse, saddled and waiting. She thought of her horse in the inn's stables. Of how much begging and pleading it had taken before Zelda, a Shadow stationed in Voyenne, had agreed to let her borrow it. If this Mistbeast truly was as deadly as a wolf, Feyre was not about to take the horse with her.

"I shall need a horse."

"What about the one you came on?" he frowned.

"Not an option."

"Are you su-"

"Not. An. Option."

He scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I suppose Arion could carry us both."

They walked out of Lin on foot. A number of different paths led from the town into Blackwood Forest; some were well maintained, cobbles leading from the houses, through the open field to the edge of the trees, perhaps even continuing under the canopy. The fields were full of spring flowers; daisies and dandelions, red clover and other flowers Feyre didn't have the knowledge to identify. Her escort, who awkwardly introduced himself as Etienne, explained they varied their hunting grounds regularly, which explained the numerous paths.

"The plants can be found in most places but we never pick everything, to assure we will have another harvest the next year."

"And the field?"

"Mostly for our own pretend security. But the children collect the dandelions for jam. They snack on the red clover too."

At the edge of Blackwood, they mounted Arion. The tall pine trees rose high above them. Arion followed the path with only little guidance from Etienne, knowing the way as well as any other inhabitant of Lin. Feyre kept her eyes and ears open, though she did not expect to catch any sight of the Mistbeast this close to the edge while the sun was out. All the usual sounds of a forest teeming with life surrounded them. The wind through the trees, the rustling in the brush. Occasionally a twig snapped somewhere in the distance. There was nothing here to warrant any extra attention.

Soon, the branches overhead became so thick they blocked out all sunlight. If she looked back, she could see nothing but pine trees; they seemed to have moved to block all sight of the world outside of the forest. The temperatures dropped as the sun disappeared, though a Shadow rarely went anywhere without their cloak.

"Pass me the lantern," Etienne asked, halting Arion briefly.

Feyre did as asked.

The small light bloomed to life in its glass prison, allowing them to see a little further. Never could she have found her way through Blackwood Forest without a guide who knew the woods like the back of his hands. While there were few paths branching off the main thoroughfare, the resemblance between the trees and the clear lack of markers made it impossible to guess how long they had traveled. Were they heading south or east? Yet all around them, the forest was alive with sounds.

They crossed over the Grande Elle river via a sturdy wooden bridge as Etienne led them deeper and deeper into the Blackwood. Neither spoke much beyond the necessary. Not many words were necessary either. She didn't ask how much longer they would need, she didn't ask where exactly he was taking her. The last thing she wanted was to alert any beast of their presence.

The noises of the forest disappeared so gradually, Feyre didn't notice at first when everything had gone silent. Arion had walked on though she could sense the animal's nervousness. She reached around Etienne to put a hand on the reins. She hushed him softly before he could speak. Then she slipped onto the ground.

The dirt path beneath her boots didn't kick up any dust as she walked. Here and there, tree roots had pushed their way to the surface, though she easily stepped around them. All around, the forest seemed to have died. There were no more birds, there were no more rustles, there was no more wind. Only silence. Ahead, the path disappeared out of sight as it went downhill. With one hand, she pulled her dagger from her belt, in the other she gripped a throwing knife.

Etienne followed, an arrow nocked and ready. Arion waited patiently where they left him, no interest in going any further. A sure sign of something, Feyre assessed. Her eyes continuously scanned the surrounding forest. Soon she caught something else, not a sound or sight but a smell. In stark contrast to the earthy smell of pine, dirt, and rotting vegetation was the coppery smell of blood. Her feet froze inches before the path dipped down. She found herself surveying a massacre. Etienne stood next to her in horrified silence.

"The latest hunting party, I'm guessing?"

He nodded.

Before them, on the path, hanging from branches, and sticking out of the underbrush were a number of bodies. She could not tell exactly how many there were. Each had been torn to pieces. In truth, most of what she saw were severed limbs. The man nearest to them, his face forever frozen in a terrified scream as he stared up at them, was missing his legs. Feyre surveyed the scene with odd detachment; it was hard to tell which legs had belonged to him.

"That's Baptiste," Etienne whispered. She nodded though the information was useless to her.

Slowly, she made her way downhill. The ground was dark with blood, most of which had dried by now, especially the long drag marks. One man had been left mostly intact though he had been thrown against a tree, where a branch had speared him. A hand lay abandoned in the middle of the path, an arm, and a leg could just be seen sticking out of the vegetation. She saw a head of blond curls a little further, though got the distinct impression it was no longer attached to anything below the neck.

Whatever had attacked this group had been vicious, efficient and deadly. It hadn’t killed for food either; Feyre suspected if all body parts were gathered, they would amount to a complete hunting party. Yet, no other predator had come around to claim the spoils either, which, in itself, concerned her more.

Sweeping her eyes over the dense assembly of trees, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. "Etienne, go back to Arion." She didn’t turn her eyes away from their surroundings. "Something is watching us."

"What? We can't just leave them here."

"As a matter of fact, we can."

With small, careful steps, Feyre maneuvered backward. Her eyes moved around, searching for the slightest sign of anything hidden in the trees. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. Her ears couldn't pick up anything. She turned to tell her companion once more to move. The move would have been fatal to anyone else; only her training, reflexes deeply ingrained in her muscles, saved her life as she automatically threw herself to the side.

A second later and long fangs would have torn through her flesh.

Feyre spun to face her foe, holding her dagger at the ready. Her mind pointed out her weapon was roughly the size of those teeth. Except she had only one dagger. Before her stood a beast she had never seen with her own eyes before. This had to be the Mistbeast of the village's tales. A wolf as tall as she was, with fur as black as night, eyes like fire, and powerfully built. Its lips were curled back to bare sharp and lethal teeth. Its hackles were raised and its ears were flat. All the while it snarled at her.

"Etienne, get to the horse. Now!"

She didn't think he would need to be told again.

The wolf snapped its teeth and feinted a forward move. The Shadow lost her first throwing knife to that feint. Between one heartbeat and the next, the wolf jumped at her, not giving her the opportunity to escape as she had the first time. As it knocked her over, she dropped her dagger, though she needed her hands more to keep the strong jaws away from her throat than to hold a useless blade. The wolf was particularly determined to sink its teeth into her; like those of its smaller cousins, they had been designed for crushing bones. Feyre struggled with all her might to keep them away from her. It took all the strength of her runic tattoos to push the beast back.

She worked to pull her legs up to her chest, then, with a burst of strength she prayed would be enough, she kicked out at the wolf. Too focused on ripping out her throat, the kick landed firmly on the sensitive belly of the beast and threw it through the air. Feyre did not waste a second. Grabbing her dagger as she rolled and rose to her feet, she sprinted up the path. Etienne sat in the saddle, barely keeping Arion under control, as he waited for her. His eyes went wide as she appeared, with the massive beast on her tail.

He was quick to shoot an arrow. It rushed past her ear, disappearing behind her. She grabbed his outstretched hand and allowed him to pull her up behind him. The stallion did not need to be told to flee. With a hurried look over her shoulder, she thought for a second the wolf had disappeared. Instead, it had only sought refuge among the trees as it continued its chase. It was fast; it would catch up with them before long.

Feyre took her time to aim before throwing her second knife. Then a third. And a fourth. She neither heard nor saw the impact; the only confirmation she got to confirm a successful throw was a slight yelp. Ripping Etienne's bow from his hand, she knocked an arrow and kept it aimed at the forest, waiting for a sight of the beast. A movement in the darkness.

Nothing.

Arion bolted out of the trees, too panicked to stop at the first sight of sunlight. His rider struggled to control him. They raced through the streets until they were confronted with a crowd on the square. Their arrival was met by curious looks. Finally reining in the frightened horse, they came to a stop. Feyre, her heart racing, dropped to the ground and went to the well. Pulling up a bucket, she drank her fill before holding it out to Etienne, who offered it to his horse.

A silence stretched between them, during which they stared at each other.

The blond broke the silence first. "I cannot believe we survived an attack from the Mistbeast."

Feyre turned on him, anger boiling in her veins. They had been lucky indeed to survive that attack; however, there should not have been a confrontation at all. It had taken one look at the big wolf for her to know what predator she had come face to face with. It had been all she needed to piece together this complicated puzzle.

"You fucking pissed of a Fenris wolf!" she yelled.

He took a step back. Those few who had not been watching yet turned to them. She took a deep breath, knowing he did not deserve her anger. As a matter of fact, none in Lin deserved it. According to the tales, the first hunting party had set out long before any of these people had been born. Still, they had ventured into those woods and attempted to kill something unprovoked. It could simply be bad luck they encountered a creature with good memory and adept to holding grudges.

“What’s a Fenris wolf?”

She breathed in deeply through her nose and slowly out through her mouth, trying to work through the near-death encounter they had experienced only minutes ago. Feyre had made the conscious decision to specialize herself as Tenebrous, a Shadow specialized in the deceitful gathering of information. She had chosen to wrap herself in shadows, minimize her contact with violence. The occasional slit throat was no issue. A direct confrontation with a beast, may it be man or wolf, was quite different.

“A large species of wolves, native to the dense forests of Dinu. This one must have wandered west in search of new territory, maybe for prey.”

“That beast has been here for so long, surely it can’t be the same wolf.” Her expertise did not lay with wolves or any other kind of animal. In fact, she feared she might be in over her head. Why had the Lightless thought to send her? “Can you kill it?”

She took another deep breath. “I have to send a note,” she muttered to herself. Yes, she had to write to someone who knew more. To someone who could research these animals and their behaviors. To someone who could provide her with answers. Until then, she would not venture back into Blackwood Forest.

🌲🐺⭐🌲

"You're back," Etienne exclaimed as her horse made its way across the square's cobblestones.

Feyre had been away from Lin for a week, choosing to stay in the nearby town of Traises. It was slightly bigger than the Blackwood Forest border town and had a Raven Master. She had written to a mage, hoping they would be able to help her, only to have another mage write back to her. What little good it had done her.

She had not expected the blond to be in the square when she returned. In fact, she hadn’t thought of him, doubting she would see him again. Now, he met her with a smile, looking up at her with those peculiar blue eyes full of relief and hope. She acknowledged him with a nod, fully aware of her tight schedule. She continued onward to the inn. The young man followed her with a series of incessant questions she could never hope to answer before the sun set. After she flung herself out of the saddle, she handed him the reins without asking; it was likely he took them wordlessly because the gesture had surprised him.

Inside the inn, it was busier than it had been the last time. The tables were fuller, the conversations flowed as freely as the drinks. A man flushed with wine appeared to have fallen asleep on the bar while the man next to him couldn’t be bothered to wake him. A group threw small darts at a board on the wall, some played cards. In the crowd, the barmaid made her way around the tables with large glasses balanced precariously on her tray. Some were full, others were not. The barman himself stood behind the bar, busy filling even more glasses; he barely paused in his work to look up at the new arrival.

As on her first night, Feyre approached the bar and waited to be noticed. It took a little longer this time. Finally, her patience running thin, she pounded the bar with her fist. The drunkard awoke with a startled snore but only turned his head and resumed his nap. The barman cast a glance at the source of the disturbance and immediately paled at the sight of her. Any other moment she could afford to forego the rudeness; today, she could not.

"Miss Shadow. What can I do for you? Your room is still as you left it."

"I will not be needing the room tonight, though my horse needs a place to stay."

"Certainly. One moment and I will take care of it right away." The tremble had left his voice, though the Shadow suspected a drinking room full of patrons left little time for fear. 

Her cloak brushed over the floor as Feyre turned and stepped outside again. Etienne was where she had left him, muttering to the horse as though the animal might give him all the answers. He stopped immediately when his eyes met hers. The barman was right behind her, going for the horse. She watched as the man led it away gently, putting it between her and himself; no demanding clients to keep him from fearing her out here.

"The horse isn't mine," she stated as the young man stepped up next to her. "I have sent word to its owner that she can expect it back soon. If I have not returned by late morning tomorrow; I need you to take it back to Dormont. When you catch your first glimpse of the city, you can let it go. It will find its own way home from there. You can take whatever is in the saddlebags as payment."

He blinked. Once. Twice. By then she had walked away. Daylight was a precious commodity to those traveling in Blackwood Forest, despite how much of it the pines block out. And while the Mistbeast had proven to be very active even during the day, she would much rather make it to her destination before night fell. He caught up to her, matching her stride. 

"You are going to hunt it now? Where are your weapons? You cannot hope to take the Mistbeast out with your dagger." At her intimidating look, he hurried to add, "Though I don’t doubt you are greatly skilled with it. You need something larger, something more lethal. Not to mention that the sun will have set before you can get too far, especially if you are walking. Why are you walking?"

She stopped and turned to him. They stood halfway between the Blackwood and Lin. "As I said, the horse is not mine. Now, return home and let me work."

"But a dagger?" he repeated in utter disbelief.

Her fingers closed around the hill of the dagger in question, pulling it free. It was a fine weapon; a lean blade, strong and lethal with its double edge. The rosewood handle had been carved to fit the shape of her hand. Turning the blade over, the Order of Shadow's symbol had been pressed into the metal just under the guard.

"I am a Tenebrous. Do you know what that means?" He shook his head. She hadn't expected him to know; few knew about the inner workings of the Order. "I am a Shadow specialized in the collection of information. Like my Poniard colleagues, I am adept at moving in the shadows, adept at using a weapon and capable of taking a life if the need were to arise. However, I believe that, in the case of the Mistbeast, it is not the skills of a Poniard that are required." Then she put the dagger away; she carried it with her now only for the symbolic nature. "If I do not come back, make sure to tell the next Shadow I was wrong."

She set a steady pace as she walked away from him. As she reached the treeline, she found herself pausing for a heartbeat. It wasn't until she looked over her shoulder to find Etienne where she had left him, watching her with an expression of barely disguised dread and worry that she realized she had expected him to follow. It was good he hadn't. With a final nod, she walked into Blackwood Forest.

On foot, she realized just how far they had gone before they had found the massacre. It would take longer than she had anticipated to venture deep enough into the forest. But she didn't press her step. Instead, she thought about what the mage had been able to tell her. Fenris wolves were the sacred animals of the goddess Daciana, one of several deities of the hunt on the continent. She hunted side by side with the animals. They were intelligent and long-lived; solitary animals but capable of teamwork. They were adaptable and fast learners. Feyre had to admit that was true; the Fenris wolf had witnessed the humans set traps for it, and in turn, it had set a trap for them. It explained why the massacre had happened on the road, why it had been left untouched by the other predators.

The forest grew darker as time passed. Feyre didn't mind. She was a Shadow; she lived in the darkness, used it to conceal herself from the world. However, the Mistbeast would do the same, using the cover of night to hunt its prey while she hunted it. With the darkness, the sounds of life disappeared, leaving the Blackwood in an eerie silence. Her senses were on high alert as she peered into the blackness. She had briefly thought to leave the path but had dismissed the thought; if she had to face and fight the Fenris wolf, best it be not where the beast had the advantage.

For what felt like hours, she followed the path deeper and deeper into Blackwood Forest. She remained on the main path, not willing to risk a smaller side-path. Perhaps the Mistbeast had gone to Lin and she had missed it. Perhaps it hid in a different part of the woods. But no, this was now its territory; any who ventured would not go unnoticed. Yet the night remained calm and peaceful.

Until it didn't. 

A prickling sensation alerted her to a presence hidden among the trees. She had not yet reached the massacre site but was not surprised the Fenris wolf had found her already. Her muscles tensed, her ears straining to pick up any sounds. Where did it hide? Why watch her and not attack? She pulled her dagger free, ready to use it to defend herself. Despite being accustomed to tracking her prey at night, the darkness of the Blackwood was almost absolute. All moonlight was blocked out by the thick canopy of branches. Instead, she relied on her hearing, relied on her body as she had never before.

There.

She spun on her heel, watching as the imposing form of the Fenris wolf stepped out of the brush and onto the path. It did so deliberately, calmly, and full of restrained power. The black fur allowed the Mistbeast to blend into the shadows as well as Feyre did, though its eyes shone in what little light there was. It stood tall and straight as it stared her down across the distance that separated them. She returned the Fenris wolf's stare, her grip tightening on the dagger's hilt, her knees bending slightly.

The Mistbeast did not attack her right away, unlike last time. It had come flying out of the trees, intent on sinking its dagger-like teeth into her neck. Now, they faced each other, seizing the other up and gauging their strength. Perhaps looking for a weakness. Their hunts with the goddess are said to have made them uncommonly apt at reading human body language. Her body language no doubt screamed aggressiveness, but perhaps it could read more into it. It had too if it hadn't attacked her yet.

She breathed in deeply through her nose, steeling herself. Either her plan succeeded or she was about to surrender herself to a hopefully quick death.

Slowly letting out her breath, she lowered herself closer to the ground, keeping her gaze fixed upon the Fenris wolf, willing it to read her intentions, the change in her body language. Kneeling on the rough ground, she breathed in shakily and tossed the dagger just out of reach. If the Fenris wolf attacked now, it would be on her before she could scramble for the dagger. Without any other weapons on her, she wouldn't likely survive.

The Mistbeast didn't move.

Bit by bit, she stood up again. One story told of a huntsman who crossed paths with a Fenris wolf. The wolf did not attack, neither did the man. He put down his bow and showed he was no threat. She could see the words before her eyes, praying the mage had been right, praying the story was not a hoax. It watched her still, not moving a muscle. Feyre hoped, if she proved not to be a threat, the animal would assume the same about the people of Lin. 

Her heart was in her throat. Any second now and it could all be over.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three heartbeats.

The Fenris wolf took in step in her direction almost tentatively. Feyre forced herself not to move, whether to dive for the dagger or run deeper into the forest. She forced herself to relax all her muscles. It took another step. It doubted her as much as she doubted it. The Shadow refused to move as the wolf approached her. Even when it was only an arm's length away, her feet remained firmly planted in their spot. Stoically, her eyes didn't stray from the Fenris wolf's shining eyes.

Then, before her frozen body, the wolf too lowered itself. Lower and lower until its muzzle nearly touched the ground. Its eyes stared up at her as it held the position. For the first time in her career as Shadow, Feyre had not prepared for the unexpected. In her mind, the wolf would have either attacked her or walked away. This... this was unanticipated. It was staggering.

Making sure to avoid any brusque movements, she lowered herself onto the ground again, feeling the dirt path beneath her. She could feel every twig and pebble. She was glad to be off her shaky legs. The Order had prepared her for a lot, had trained her to be perfectly emotionless in a vast range of situations. This had never been one of them. In the darkness, the Mistbeast followed her example, lying down on the ground completely.

On a whim, she reached out with her hand, thinking only a heartbeat too late that she might lose the hand. The Fenris wolf sniffed at her fingers before nudging them. Carefully, she slid her fingers up the length of the great muzzle, knowing full well the teeth that hid beneath the fur and skin. Before she could pull back her fingers, the animal licked at them. She drew back her fingers more out of disgust than fear.

"Please, do not slobber all over me," she muttered as she wiped the hand on her cloak.

They sat in an almost companionable silence for a long time, each cautious of the other but growing accustomed to their presence and company. There were times when Feyre thought she might doze off but daren't close her eyes. She must have though for she woke to the sounds of bird song. The pine forest had turned from black to green. The most shocking discovery, however, was the Fenris wolf who had, during the night, moved to curl around her. Its tail rested across her stomach, the black fur soft beneath her hands and cheek.

With small movements, she distanced herself from this feared animal. Its golden eyes flew open and watched the Shadow as she moved. It watched as she stood and stretched. It watched as she reached for her dagger. It rose to its feet in seconds, pulling back its lips to reveal deadly teeth.

"Easy," she muttered, keeping her voice calm. "I'm attached to this. I'm putting it away. See?" Adding action to the words, she slid it into its sheath and showing her empty hands. "No harm done."

Feyre found it hard to walk away from the Fenris wolf though she knew she needed to return to Lin before late morning. A fragile bond had formed between them throughout the night. Tentative but true. She could not simply leave it behind; she had no guarantee it would not remain in Blackwood Forest to hunt the townsfolk. Just because it hadn't killed her...

The Mistbeast did not appear to have the same reservations. It stepped off the path and disappeared between the trees without a backward glance. The ending of her adventure left her feeling dissatisfied; though had the huntsman and the Fenris wolf from the story not walked away from each other either.

And so, she started on her way back to Lin.

🌲🐺 THE END 🐺🌲

I wrote this short story for a challenge on Discord. The challenge was to write something inspired by this image and this is what I came up with. (I also won the monthly challenge thanks to this)

It’s set in a universe that I’ve been slowly building with a map generator (with a lot of customization options). I have an idea for a story set in the universe but I want to have the worldbuilding done before I start working on that. This story was a great help at figuring the Shadows out.

There will be more short stories, though they take time.