Hunting Wolfe

The First Day

A subtle rustling near my feet jolts me awake, senses sharpening as I sit up in the narrow, creaking bed. Almax, with his sleek fur and luminous eyes, edges closer, his small form vibrating with a soft, insistent mew. His distress is palpable, and I can't ignore the tug of concern that grips my heart. "What's the matter, Almax?" I murmur, my voice sounding alien in the quiet stillness, as he nuzzles against my hand. "It's early, bud," I say glancing around the room. Soft, muted rays from the early morning sun filter through the fractured panes of a window, casting a pallid grey hue that attempts, in vain, to chase away the shadows clinging to every corner of the cramped, rustic hut. Tendrils of light weave their way across the worn wooden floor, but the dimness persists, the room remaining shrouded in a somber gloom.

I lay back down, the coarse fabric of the bedding scratching against my skin, as I close my eyes, hoping to steal a few more hours of sleep from the morning. Almax's persistent mews interrupt the silence, growing louder and more insistent as he pads toward my face. His green eyes bore into mine, demanding attention. "Are you hungry or something?" I mutter, voice thick with fatigue. Just then, a barely audible creak makes its way from one of the shadowy corners of the room, freezing me in place. My heart quickens. "Who's there?" I call out, though my voice wavers. My eyes dart to the dark corner, pupils dilated, straining to discern shapes in the gloom. The silence after my query is almost mocking, and I begin to doubt myself—until something crashes through the flimsy wooden door of the hut, drawing my attention that direction.

The next moments blur together. There's a heavy pressure on my chest as I feel something weighty and ominous landing on my bed, its hot breath, wet with saliva, inches from my face. Paralysis grips me, stealing my voice until Almax's frantic screeches shatter the spell. His tiny body hurls itself at the intruder, a flash of fur and fury.
The sound of a fierce struggle fills the room—hisses, growls, the tearing of fabric. Just then, from the shadowy corner I was watching earlier, another presence emerges, moving with a predatory grace toward the chaos unfolding on my bed. My instincts kick in and I finally find my voice, screaming for help as panic surges through me.
Sharp cries of pain pierce the air, and the room seems to pulse with wild energy. Near the door, I catch a flurry of movement. Moments later, Jelsa and Luxen rush into the hut, their faces stern and eyes wide, each holding a large lantern aloft. The light from their lamps cuts through the darkness, illuminating the scene and sending shadows scuttling back. Relief floods me at their presence.

"What's going on?" Jelsa's voice trembles, her eyes darting around the room, wide with fear. Her lantern held high, casting flickering light that dances over scenes of destruction and chaos before retreating back into the shadows.

Adrenaline floods my system, my senses sharpen, and I absorb the tumultuous scene unfolding before us. "Something—or someone—was in here," I whisper, the words weighted with urgency, barely audible. "There was a struggle." I jump out of bed, and race to the doorway, now that the lantern has proven the room to be empty.

Luxen steps into the room, his brows furrowed in intense concentration. "Did you see it? Did you get a good look at what it was?"

I shake my head, my gaze piercing the darkness of the room, which feels like an oppressive, suffocating entity. "No, it's too dark. All I could make out was Almax lunging at it, claws and teeth bared, trying to protect me."

A flicker of confusion washes over Jelsa's face. "Almax? You mean that little creature that's been following you around?"

"Yes," I exhale, panic seizing my chest as my eyes desperately scan the room. "Oh no, where is he? Almax? Almax!" My voice rises, each call echoing through the nearly empty room.

"Maybe whatever attacked you killed him and dragged him off," Luxen remarks, his voice unwavering and calm, slicing through the tense air like a blade.

"What?!" I gasp. My heart hammering against the walls of my rib cage, desperate to break free.

"Luxen!" Jelsa snaps, her eyes narrowing into sharp, angry slits. "That's not very helpful."

"It's not helpful, but it's probably true," I say, each word tasting bitter. I saved the little guy, and now he's died trying to protect me. A knot forms in my stomach, twisting tighter as I imagine the creature's final moments, standing valiantly against whatever force assailed us. I look out across the camp, wondering where his final resting place is.

"Calm down," Jelsa urges, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "It's possible whatever attacked you is still out there, and it's possible your little friend is still breathing. We'll find it. Daylight will be here soon."

"I'm not hunting down anything," Luxen mutters, crossing his arms across his chest, a fortress of defensive stubbornness.

"Would you prefer it sneak into your hut tomorrow and turn you into an early morning snack?" Jelsa counters, her voice edged with irritation and concern, as sharp as a knife's edge and just as cutting.

Luxen exhales deeply, his defiance faltering, shoulders slumping with reluctant resignation. "Okay, fine. You win. I'll go."

"So, where do we start?" I ask.

Luxen lifts his lantern high, casting an eerie, flickering glow onto the trampled grass. The light wavers and dances over grass, leaves, and twigs, revealing a faint, dark trail. "We have a blood trail," he says, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes the path laid out before us. "We should be able to follow it, find the beast, and destroy it before it has a chance to come back and destroy us." He heads into the awaiting arms of the forest, lantern high, head down, following the trail.

I remain still for a moment, rooted to the spot by a strange combination of fear and awe. The forest around us is alive with the sounds of night, the rustling of leaves, and the distant call of nocturnal creatures. Who would have ever thought that something so small, so seemingly insignificant, would possess such an uncanny ability for tracking? Yet here stands Luxen, his focus sharp, his every movement purposeful, leading the way into unknown dangers with a confidence that defies his stature.