Qen stirred as the night wind whispered through the thick trees. For a moment, he thought he imagined it, but then—movement. A shadow darted between the trunks, vanishing just as quickly as it appeared. He rose, tightening his grip on his sword.
"Who's there?" he called into the darkness.
Silence. Then the crunch of leaves. Whoever—or whatever—it was had already fled. Determined not to let his curiosity die, Qen followed the faint trail of footprints. Freon padded silently beside him, nose twitching as though he too sensed something amiss.
The chase did not last long. An arrow whistled through the night air, and Qen's instincts as a soldier snapped awake. He twisted his body, the shaft missing him by inches. His eyes narrowed, searching the treeline.
"I don't seek trouble!" Qen shouted firmly, his stance still guarded. "Someone was spying on me earlier. That's all I'm after."
The forest held its breath. Then, from the shadows, a cloaked figure stepped forward. Slowly, the hood was lowered. Qen's eyes widened.
It was a boy—no older than sixteen—with sharp ears, a swaying tail, and amber eyes that glowed faintly even in the dark.
"A Beastkin…" Qen whispered. In all his years of fighting, he had never once seen one in the flesh.
The boy froze as if caught doing something forbidden. His ears twitched, then—without a word—he turned and bolted into the trees.
Qen didn't chase. He sighed, lowering his blade. "So this forest isn't empty after all."
When he returned to camp, he found his bread missing. A rabbit, bold and unbothered, was nibbling away. Freon lunged, catching it with ease. With a small smile, Qen prepared a meal of rabbit stew. He shared it with Freon, but his gaze often flickered toward the treeline. He wasn't surprised when the same shadow appeared again.
"You may as well come out," he said aloud, voice calm but firm. "If you're hungry, join us."
Hesitant steps followed. The wolf-boy emerged once more, his amber eyes wary but filled with longing. When Qen offered him food, he hesitated only a moment before accepting. He ate in silence, his movements tense, like an animal unsure of its safety.
Qen smiled faintly. "So you do eat like us, after all."
The boy flinched, cheeks coloring under the firelight. Still, when the last of the meat was gone, he muttered softly, "Thank you."
That was when Qen realized—the boy could speak human tongue.
"My name is Qen Tavious," he introduced himself.
The boy straightened, eyes narrowing in curiosity. "…I am Hert. A Wolfkin."
At that moment, Freon padded closer. Hert's expression softened as he crouched and placed a hand on the white wolf's head. "And this one… you call him Freon?"
Qen blinked. "Yes. I just named him tonight."
Hert's lips tugged into the smallest smile. "A good name." He rose, bowing slightly. "Thank you for the meal, Qen Tavious. I'll return tomorrow."
And just like that, he vanished into the woods again.
---
The next morning, Qen was roused by a tug at his arm. Blinking, he found Hert crouched beside him, tail flicking idly. Strangely, Freon made no move to attack.
"You…" Qen muttered, sitting up. "You came back?"
Hert smirked faintly. "Freon accepts me. He understands. I… can speak with him. My blood allows it."
Qen raised his brows in surprise. "You can talk to wolves?"
"Not talk," Hert corrected, "but we understand one another."
As Qen stretched, he asked, "Where did you go last night?"
"My hideout," Hert said simply. When Qen pressed, the wolf-boy tilted his head before asking, "Do you want to see it?"
Curiosity stirred in Qen. "Show me."
Hert led him deeper into the woods. After a long walk, they came upon a small cave tucked behind ivy and stone. Inside, Qen found a flat rock used as a bed, a faintly glowing lamp, and a pond where fish swam lazily.
"You live here alone?" Qen asked quietly.
Hert nodded. "It is quiet. Safe."
---
Their return journey was interrupted by the thunder of hooves—or rather, something heavier. A massive wild boar burst through the underbrush, tusks gleaming. It roared and charged.
"Move!" Qen barked.
They split apart, narrowly avoiding the beast's goring charge. Hert drew a dagger, circling warily, while Qen measured the creature's movements. Its hide was thick, his first slash bouncing uselessly off its flank.
The boar lunged again, forcing Qen back. Gritting his teeth, he shifted tactics—waiting, waiting, then driving his sword into a softer spot beneath its shoulder. Hert leapt in, plunging his dagger into its head. With a final thrash, the beast collapsed.
Breathless, the two sat down, laughter bubbling out despite their exhaustion.
"That," Qen said between breaths, "was good teamwork."
Hert smirked, wiping blood from his cheek. "Good? I nearly died!" He laughed harder, tail swishing.
Together, they dragged the massive boar back to camp. Freon's eyes widened the moment he saw it, drool practically dripping from his maw. The two couldn't help but laugh again.
Soon, the fire was lit, mushrooms gathered, and the smell of roasted meat filled the air. Qen boiled a rich broth, while Hert claimed the boar's head to leave as an offering for the wolves of the forest.
By the time he returned, dinner was ready. Qen handed Hert a steaming bowl, while Freon happily gnawed on a roasted slab nearly the size of his own head.
Under the glow of firelight, the three of them—man, wolf, and Wolfkin—shared a meal together.
For the first time in a long time, Qen felt… not alone.