The sun had already risen, and soft golden light filtered through the cracks of the hut. A knock echoed against the wooden door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Qen stirred awake at the sound, groaning as he rubbed his eyes. He rose slowly from the bed and walked toward the door, his sword leaning against the wall within reach out of habit. When he opened it, he found the elder of Guana Village standing there.
For a brief moment, both men froze.
The elder's eyes widened when he noticed the massive figure lying behind Qen—a white direwolf, still wrapped in makeshift bandages. Though wounded, its sheer size and aura of danger made the old man's knees weak.
Qen raised a hand calmly.
"Don't be afraid. He's not hostile. If he were, we'd both already be dead."
The elder swallowed nervously but nodded, forcing himself to believe the traveler's words. With a small bow, he excused himself and left.
Qen sighed, grabbing his sword as he stepped outside. The village morning was lively: children ran barefoot, laughing as they played tag in the dusty streets. Adults tended to their rice fields, bent over with scythes glinting in the light. Chickens clucked around huts, cows grazed in the meadow, and the smell of freshly baked bread lingered in the air.
He wandered toward the baker's stall and bought a loaf, thanking the woman before returning. But when he entered the hut again, he stopped in surprise.
The direwolf was standing.
Its legs trembled, but it was no longer collapsed. The beast's golden eyes met his, steady and calm. Qen let out a breath of relief and approached, patting its snowy fur.
"You're tougher than you look," he muttered with a small smile.
As he packed his belongings, the elder appeared once more, this time with a smile.
"Traveler! Join us for breakfast at my hut. It would be an honor."
Qen shook his head politely. "That won't be necessary—"
But the elder insisted with such warmth that refusal felt rude. With a sigh, Qen agreed.
Inside the elder's hut, he was greeted by the sight of a kind-faced woman preparing food. She beamed at him and set down plates of rice, eggs, and roasted meat, along with a cup of milk.
"Please eat. You must be tired from traveling," she said kindly.
Qen sat down slowly, thanking her. As he ate, he felt a pang in his chest. The warmth of the small hut, the gentle chatter, the smell of fresh food—it all reminded him of a time long gone, when his family still gathered around a table together. He ate quietly, savoring the moment.
When he finished, he bowed his head in gratitude.
"Thank you. I'll take this with me, if you don't mind." He gestured at the leftover meat.
The old woman smiled warmly. "It's nothing at all. Visitors are rare here."
The elder chuckled. "I hope you'll visit our village again, traveler."
On his way back to the hut, a little girl approached him shyly. She held out a small yellow flower with both hands.
"For you, mister."
Qen blinked in surprise, then accepted it with a faint smile.
"…Thank you."
The girl grinned and ran off.
Back at the hut, he gave the meat to the direwolf, who devoured it gratefully before climbing into the wagon without protest. Qen secured his belongings, then asked a nearby farmer about the road.
"Is the eastern deep forest near?"
The farmer shook his head. "Two more forests still lie ahead, traveler. Be careful. That way isn't safe."
Qen nodded, then departed, bidding farewell to the villagers as the wagon rolled on.
---
The peace didn't last.
Halfway down the road, a horde of goblins leapt from the brush, their shrill screeches filling the air. At least thirty of them surrounded the wagon, brandishing crude blades and jagged spears.
Qen tightened his grip on his sword and stepped forward. His body shifted into a ready stance, but when the creatures charged all at once, it was difficult to hold his ground.
The white direwolf suddenly burst from the wagon, fur bristling, fangs bared. With a savage growl, it clamped its jaws around the nearest goblin's throat, tearing it apart before lunging at another.
With the wolf drawing their attention, Qen found his rhythm. His sword flashed in clean arcs, severing limbs and piercing skulls. He fought tirelessly until only one goblin remained. With a swift strike, he beheaded it, his breath ragged.
Exhausted, he dropped to one knee. The wolf padded back into the wagon, as if nothing had happened. As Qen wiped his blade, his eyes caught a glint—on one of the corpses lay a goblin's hand wearing a red diamond ring. Curious, he pocketed it before resuming the journey.
---
By dusk, they reached a dense, shadowy forest. Towering trees blotted out the sky, their twisted branches whispering in the wind. The air was damp and cold, and Qen's breath misted in the fading light.
He stopped the wagon, cleared the leafy ground, and gathered sticks to build a fire. Soon, the crackle of flames lit the gloom. The direwolf lay beside him, its massive body radiating warmth.
Qen pulled out the leftover meat and fed it to the beast. As it ate, he studied it quietly. Two days had passed since their meeting, and yet it still had no name.
"…A nameless wolf, huh?" he murmured.
He thought for a moment. Its snowy coat gleamed like frost under the firelight, and its fearless eyes burned like a lion's. A fitting name came to him.
"Freon," he said aloud.
The wolf tilted its head, then licked his hand.
Qen chuckled. "So you like it, huh? Then Freon it is."
As the fire crackled, he began fashioning a simple trap from wooden sticks—something to catch rabbits or other small prey. But as he worked, his eyes drifted to the forest's shadows.
Something moved.
A figure… watching.