Flight of Frost and Aurora

Chapter 42

Once again, Augusto had convinced Anthony to join him on one of his hunting trips. This time, however, he instructed Anthony to sit back and observe the traps. Anthony sat perched on a fallen log, his back against the rough bark of a tree, staring forlornly at the traps scattered around the clearing.

Hours had passed with nothing to show for it—no rustle in the underbrush, no sound of a trap snapping shut. Just the quiet hum of the forest, which was starting to feel more like a prison.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he should have brought a book or something to keep himself entertained. But here he was, stuck in the middle of nowhere, listening to the occasional chirp of birds and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

Suddenly, a low growl pierced the stillness, sending a shiver down his spine. Anthony's heart raced as he turned to see a pair of wolves emerging from the thick underbrush, their eyes glinting with predatory hunger. He froze.

"Easy now," he whispered to the pack, striving to maintain a steady voice. "You... you don't really want to eat me. I'm just skin and bones—no meat at all. It would be like trying to eat a sack of sticks."

The wolves, however, seemed to find him quite appetizing. They circled around him, their growls low and menacing, revealing sharp teeth that glinted in the sunlight. A wave of panic surged through him as he sensed the weight of their predatory intent—he was on the brink of becoming their next meal.

Just as fear tightened its grip on his heart, a voice rang out, clear and authoritative. "Ahem!"

Vagatha emerged suddenly from the trees, shaking her finger at the encroaching wolves.

"That's enough! He wouldn't even satisfy a mouse. Now, back to the woods where you belong!" she commanded, her voice unwavering and resolute.

In an instant, the wolves hesitated, their growls fading into low whines. Then, to Anthony's amazement, they turned and slinked back into the trees, tails tucked between their legs.

"You know, you and your brother really shouldn't be hunting around here," Vagatha said, her tone serious. "Wolves typically favor this part of the forest for their hunts. Are you alright?"

At that moment, however, Anthony found himself speechless. Did she really just communicate with the wolves, and did they actually listen to her?

"How...How did you do that?"

Vagatha smiled, a glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes. "As I mentioned, I was once a sprite under Mother Carmilla's care. If you've paid attention to history, you'd know that, as a being of Summer and Spring, it's her duty to nurture the animals in this realm. In return, those creatures respect her and won't harm anyone associated with her."

"I don't believe it," he replied, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't accept this at all!"

"Then how do you explain why they listen to me?" she challenged.

"Perhaps they weren't wolves at all," he countered. "Maybe they were just a pack of hunting dogs that wandered away from their master."

"Anthony, if they were just dogs, then why would they try to eat you? Last I checked, hunting dogs are trained to kill any creature but humans. Honestly, in an argument, you're worse than Alastor. At least when I make a solid point, he admits he's wrong because the evidence is undeniable. But you? You're so deep in denial that it's almost delusional."

"This is rich coming from a girl who believes she was a sprite."

"Don't call me crazy. That'll be the last thing you ever say to me, I promise you that."