Metallica one shots and headcannons

Whispers of the Forest: The Price💚 (Jason Newsted one shot)

Part 2 of whispers of the forest

 The days that followed were a blur of desperation. Eldewood had grown quieter, darker. Fewer people walked the streets; more houses were empty, their inhabitants swallowed up by the illness that had no cure. No one was left to help me—no one but myself.

Despite the warning from the strange half-human man, I couldn't stay away from the forest. My people needed me, and I had no other choice. The herb was still out there, deep within the forest's dark heart, and it was the only thing that could save them. The weight of their suffering hung over me, a constant reminder that time was running out.

So, despite everything—the strange warning, the fear clawing at the back of my mind—I packed my satchel again and set out once more into the woods.

The path through the forest seemed different now. The trees, thick and looming, felt more oppressive, as if they were closing in on me. I remembered the first time I entered, how the forest had seemed so silent, so still. But today, there was a different energy in the air—something darker. And yet, I pushed on.

Hours passed, and my search seemed to be going in circles. I had been here before, but this time, everything felt more dangerous. The forest felt less like a sanctuary and more like a labyrinth with no way out. Each step felt heavier than the last. My body was growing tired, my feet sore, but I couldn't stop. I had to find the herb.

I had learned the signs—where the plant would grow, what it would look like—but every time I thought I had found it, I realized I was mistaken. It was like the forest itself was toying with me. The more I searched, the more elusive it became.

Just as the last sliver of light from the setting sun faded, the forest around me seemed to come alive in an eerie way. A sudden rustle in the brush caught my attention, and I froze, my heart racing. I wasn't alone. Something—or someone—was out there.

The growl came next, low and menacing, vibrating through the air like a dark omen. It wasn't a sound I had ever heard before—not from the wolves in the village, nor from any creature in these woods. This growl was different. It was filled with hunger, with a predatory force that sent a chill racing down my spine.

I spun around, my breath catching in my throat. My hand instinctively gripped the dagger at my side, but my fingers trembled. The shadows shifted, and then—there they were. A pack of wolves, their eyes glowing a cold, hungry yellow, their teeth bared in a way that made my pulse race with fear. They moved together, fluid, coordinated, closing the distance between us with alarming speed.

Panic surged in me. I knew that if I didn't act, I wouldn't make it out alive. The dagger in my hand felt inadequate, a mere scrap of metal against the hunger and ferocity of these creatures. My heart thundered in my chest as I took a step back, trying to think, to come up with some way to escape.

But the wolves were too close now. My breath came faster, my vision narrowing as the pack advanced.

And then, just as the first wolf lunged—its jaws snapping toward me—a blur of movement shot