The weeks blurred together in a rhythm of predawn sharpening of blades, tense forest treks, and the quiet companionship of his unlikely shadow, Victim. Yes, that was the name he had given the pup.
Femi still didn't understand how this was training. If anything, it felt like Varga was testing how long it would take for the forest to swallow him whole. Every snapped twig could be a rabbit or a predator; every gust of wind carried whispers of things he wasn't sure he wanted to name. The towering trees loomed like silent sentinels, their branches creaking with the wind.
But with Victim trotting beside him or more accurately, stalking ahead like a tiny, overconfident fool, the woods felt less like a death sentence and more like… a very dangerous chore.
The little wolf had grown bolder, its injured leg healing well under Femi's reluctant care. Its fur, once matted with dirt and dried blood, now gleamed silver in the pale morning light, catching the first rays of dawn like mirror. It still refused to answer to the name Femi had given it, unless food was involved. Then, suddenly, it was all wagging tail and eager yips. Very convenient little thief.
Today, like every other day, Femi trudged through the undergrowth, his feet crunching over patches of half-melted snow as he checked the snares. Victim darted ahead, nose to the ground, tail held high like a banner of canine arrogance. The pup had developed a habit of vanishing for hours, only to reappear when Femi skinned the rabbits, as if summoned by the scent of blood.
"You think you're smart, using me, eh?" Femi accused, tossing a scrap of meat toward it. Victim caught it midair and swallowed without chewing, then licked its chops with an air of smug satisfaction. "No loyalty at all, just meat."
The wolf pup blinked at him, then sneezed, utterly unrepentant.
Femi rolled his eyes and kept walking. The forest stretched endlessly around him, a labyrinth of wood and shifting light.
But then, something felt off.
The forest had gone too quiet. No birdsong, no rustling of small creatures in the underbrush. Just the whisper of leaves and the weight of something watching.
Femi froze. His ears twitched, straining for sound. Beside him, Victim's ears pricked, body tensing, the fur along its spine rising in a silent warning.
Then..
A low, guttural growl rumbled through the trees. Not Victim's tiny, comedic snarl. Something deeper. Something more menacing.
Femi's hand flew to his axe, fingers tightening around the grip.
From the shadows between the trees, eyes gleamed, yellow, unblinking, and filled with a predator's patience.
Oh.
Oh no.
A full-grown direwolf stepped into the clearing.
Saliva dripped from jagged teeth, and unlike the ones he and Varga had faced before, this one wasn't gaunt, and half-starved. It was massive, Its shoulders stood twice as tall than Femi's own, its paws leaving deep imprints in the snow as it advanced. Its coat was thick, a mix of charcoal and frost-gray, muscles rippling beneath with each deliberate step.
And it was staring right at Victim.
Femi's stomach dropped.
This is it. This is how I die. Not by monsters, not by Krags, but because I fed a stray and its boss came to collect.
The beast snarled, hackles raised, lips peeling back to reveal fangs as long as Femi's fingers. Victim, the traitor, let out a high-pitched whine and darted behind Femi's legs, pressing against his calves like a coward.
"Oh, NOW you remember who feeds you?!" Femi hissed.
The direwolf took another step forward, its growl vibrating through the ground.
Femi had two options: one, throw Victim at it and run or two, stand his ground and probably die.
Option one was very tempting.
But...
With a shaky breath, Femi tightened his grip on his axe and slowly crouched, keeping his movements careful. He reached into his pouch, fingers brushing against the last rabbit he'd caught, still whole and fresh. The scent of blood and fur filled his nose as he pulled it free.
Then, holding his breath, he placed it on the ground and nudged it forward with the tip of his padded toe.
The direwolf paused, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. Its gaze flicked between Femi and the rabbit, as if calculating.
Femi didn't move. Didn't dare even blink.
A tense silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant call of a crow.
The beast snatched the rabbit in its jaws, gave one last warning growl, and vanished back into the trees, melting into the shadows like an evil spirit.
Femi stayed frozen for a full minute before slumping to the ground, his heart hammering against his ribs. His palms were slick with sweat, his breath coming in short bursts.
Victim peeked out from behind him, tail wagging cautiously, as if asking, Are we safe now?
"You," Femi said, pointing a shaking finger at the pup, "owe me SO many rabbits."
Victim licked his hand.
Femi groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
How am I going to explain this to Varga now.
------
Varga took the news exactly as Femi expected with a glare that could flay skin.
"What?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous.
Femi rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her piercing stare. "I may have, eh… bribed a direwolf. With a rabbit."
Varga pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of all the..." She cut herself off, muttering something under her breath about "starving predators" and "free meals." But when she looked up, her gaze was sharp, the kind of look that made the dead confess. "Where exactly did you see it?"
Femi described the clearing, the wolf's size, The manner in which it approached him. Leaving out the part about victim. No need to tell her about his accidental pet, just yet.
Varga's expression darkened.
"Direwolves don't move alone," she said, her voice clam. "If there's one, there's a pack nearby. And if there's a pack, we're doubling patrols." She turned on her heel, barking orders to the nearest watchers. "Post sentries along the western tree line! And someone tell Ghon to check the fence!"
"So… I'm not in trouble?"
Varga gave him a look that suggested he was absolutely in trouble. But after a moment, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction.
If that wolf comes back, you get away and call for help. We will handle it. Understood?"
Femi nodded hastily. Well, better than handling it himself.
Femi nodded hastily. Well, that went better than expected. At least he wasn't being told to fight it alone. He preferred leaving fighting to other brave fools.
---------
The next morning, Varga led Femi deeper into the woods, the snow crunching softly beneath their feets. The air was thick with the scent of old wood., the trees standing in silent as witnesses to their passage.
"You'll learn to trap rabbits on your own today," Varga said, her breath misting in the cold. Her voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, a reminder that this wasn't just a lesson, but a matter of survival, and femi really wanted to survive.
"But it's not just about setting the snare." She continued. "It's about understanding their paths, their habits."
Femi nodded, but a strange sense of déjà vu prickled at the back of his mind. Had he done this before?. Maybe in one of those fragmented dreams that slipped away the moment he woke.
As they walked, his thoughts drifted back to how he'd bribed Victim into staying put, just long enough to keep the pup from following him to this lesson. A scrap of dried meat and a stern command had been enough. Maybe.
That dog will need discipline soon, he thought, shaking his head. I can't keep feeding him like this. He's not made of rabbit meat. This extortion has to stop.
With a quiet grumble, he adjusted his pace beside Varga, his claws flexing in the cold.
After walking for a while, Varga stopped beside a young sapling, its trunk slender but strong. She bent it low, securing a cord with practiced ease. The noose lay flat against the ground, nearly invisible, anchored by a trigger twig, secured by a stake.
"A rabbit runs through, the noose tightens," Varga explained, flicking the trigger twig with her finger. The sapling sprang upward with a sharp whick, the imaginary prey yanked into the air. "Simple."
Femi studied it, committing each step to memory. But curiosity got the better of him. He leaned in, adjusting the noose and then his foot brushed the trigger.
Snap.
The noose clamped around his ankle, and before he could react, the sapling jerked taut. His legs flew out from under him, and he landed hard on his backside, the breath knocked from his lungs. Above him, the sapling quivered, the cord straining but Femi was far too heavy to be lifted.
Varga snorted. "Well, Now you really know it works."
Femi rubbed his ankle, scowling. "That wasn't funny."
Varga's smirk was infuriating. "Really? I found it very entertaining."
This woman.
After an hour of practice, Femi finally got the hang of it. But the real challenge, as Varga showed him, wasn't just setting the trap, it was finding the right place.
Finding rabbit trails was tricky, one had to look for things like nibbled plants, scattered droppings, faint disturbances in the snow and so on
Femi, though, he had an advantage.
His nose twitched. The musky, earthy scent of rabbit was unmistakable. He crouched, inhaling deeply, and the trail became as clear as if it had been painted before him. He followed it to a narrow run between two bushes, where the grass was worn thin from frequent use.
"Hello, rabbit, my best friend," Femi sang under his breath as he secured the snare, his claws deft on the cord. "I've come for you once again."
Varga watched, arms crossed, but there was approval in her eyes. "Good job. You've got the hang of this." She clapped him on the shoulder. "Now you can empty and set the traps yourself each morning."
Femi's tail flicked in satisfaction. Another skill acquired, another step toward surviving on his own. Even feeding that thieving wolf pup seemed plausible now.
Still, as they turned back toward camp, Femi cast a glance over his shoulder at the dark trees. Somewhere out there, a direwolf was probably watching.
And next time, it might not settle for a rabbit.