His eyes ignored the boy and locked onto the beast standing beside him.
She looked his age.
Lean body. Long limbs. A narrow waist built for speed rather than strength. A thick tail moved slowly behind her. Deep amber eyes with vertical pupils watched him without blinking. Two ears rose from her hair instead of sitting at the sides, dark tufts flicking once as he shifted his weight.
Her lips were slightly parted, showing elongated canines. Short blonde hair framed a sharp face that held no confusion, only assessment.
From her posture alone, Ivor knew she could launch at any second.
But the collar around her neck caught his attention.
Metal. Tight. Faint runic etchings along its edge.
She belonged to the boy.
"What the hell are you doing?" the boy demanded again.
Ivor finally looked at him properly.
He was taller than Ivor, his black hair cut short and practical. His black eyes were steady, carrying irritation rather than fear, and his athletic build suggested disciplined training. Two daggers rested at his belt, positioned for quick draw.
Ivor did not answer.
He measured distance instead.
The beast's ears angled forward together.
She was reading him.
His grip tightened around the sword while the small pouch in his other hand pulled against his fingers. The groan of the boy with the broken hand carried through the clearing, thin and pained, but Ivor forced himself to ignore it. His injured leg throbbed with each shift of weight, a deep pulse that threatened to slow him if he acknowledged it for too long.
The beast's chest expanded subtly as she drew in his scent, and he understood immediately that she was not watching his blade but his body. Her tail slowed until it stilled completely.
Ivor adjusted his stance as if uncertain, sliding his left foot through the dirt while keeping his balance centered. The motion was small, deliberate, meant to mislead rather than commit. The instant her ears angled forward in response, he pushed off hard to his right.
Pain tore up his thigh as his injured leg absorbed the force, but he forced it to obey. He crossed the clearing in a low burst, boots grinding against loose soil and fallen leaves.
Behind him, he heard the faint compression of foliage.
The steps were not heavy like a charging human.
They were lighter.
Measured.
And closing fast.
"Hey, stop! Where are you running?" the boy shouted from behind him, but Ivor did not slow. The beast was closing the distance with alarming ease, and the pressure of her approach prickled along his spine more sharply than the boy's voice.
He cut between two thick trees and shifted direction in a shallow zigzag, forcing his injured leg to work harder than it wanted to. Instead of circling back toward his resting place and the bag he had hidden there, he pushed deeper into the section of forest he had originally been traveling through. If she caught him, he did not want it near his supplies.
A low chuckle drifted toward him through the trees.
The sound was too close.
While still running, he turned his head just enough to glance over his shoulder and saw her almost upon him. Her arm was extended, fingers curved slightly, reaching for his neck. Her movements were fluid, almost effortless, as though the uneven ground did not exist for her.
Ivor reacted without thinking. He planted his right foot and threw himself sharply to the left, slipping behind the thick trunk of another tree just as her hand cut through the space where his throat had been.
"Luna, get back here!" the boy's voice echoed across the clearing they had left behind, sharper this time, edged with command rather than confusion.
Ivor did not immediately slow, but he heard the distinct scrape of feet skidding against the ground. The pursuit noise changed. He risked another look.
The beast had stopped.
She stood several paces away, her posture relaxed but coiled, amber eyes fixed on him with steady interest. For a brief moment neither of them moved. Her ears twitched once, and she clicked her tongue softly in irritation before turning and running back toward the boy without another attempt.
Ivor remained still until she had put clear distance between them. Only then did he allow himself to straighten slightly.
"She is fast," he muttered under his breath.
His chest rose and fell heavily as he drew in air, forcing his breathing to steady while the pain in his leg pulsed in dull waves. He did not mistake the recall for mercy. It had not felt like a failed chase.
He remained where he was for a few more seconds, making sure neither of them followed again. When the forest stayed quiet, he turned back toward the direction he had chosen earlier and began moving forward at a slow jog instead of a full sprint. His injured leg protested at first, but once he found a steady rhythm, the pain settled into something manageable.
As he ran, he replayed the exchange in his mind.
He had reacted quickly. He had not frozen when she closed in. He had read her movement and shifted before her fingers reached him. The thought brought a faint smile to his lips. He had taken what he came for and left without being cornered.
But the boy and the beast unsettled him.
The boy had not panicked like the others. His voice had carried command. And the beast, Luna, had moved with such speed.
After putting more distance between himself and them, Ivor slowed to a walk. He scanned the area before stopping near the base of a wide tree and pulling the newly stolen water bottle from his pouch. He took a controlled sip, careful not to drain too much at once, then sealed it again and secured it back in place.
Once he started walking again, he redirected his focus inward.
He allowed mana to rise slowly from his core, guiding it along the familiar internal pathways. Instead of spreading it loosely through his arm as before, he narrowed the flow, compressing it carefully toward a single point. He centered his attention on his right index finger, shaping the current until it gathered there in a thin layer.
The sensation was faintly prickling at first, then warm as the mana stabilized. He adjusted his breathing to keep the flow steady, refusing to let it disperse. The goal was not strength but duration. If he could maintain a coating continuously without strain, then in combat he would not need to waste time forming it under pressure.
He continued walking through the forest while holding the mana in place, feeling for instability in the flow. The exercise required more focus than spreading it across his hand, and the narrow concentration exposed every small fluctuation in control.
The forest thinned gradually as Ivor moved forward, the trees spacing out until muted light began to pool ahead. He slowed before stepping into the open and lowered himself slightly, using a thick trunk as cover while he surveyed the clearing beyond.
Five boys were spread unevenly across the open ground, facing three skeletons that advanced with stiff but coordinated steps.
The fight was already in motion.
One of the boys roared as he stepped forward, both hands gripping a broad, blunt sword. A dark aura gathered around his arms and shoulders, thickening visibly before he swung. The mana condensed unevenly but heavily, amplifying the weight behind his strike. The blade crashed into a skeleton's collarbone with enough force to crack bone apart in a spray of fragments. The skeleton staggered but did not fall.
'A skill.' Ivor thought.
To the left, another boy moved differently. Instead of meeting force with force, he blurred in short bursts, each step followed by a faint distortion in the air around his legs. He slipped past a downward slash and reappeared near the skeleton's flank, driving a short dagger toward the gap between ribs.
Another skill Ivor concluded. He understood one of them was strength based while the other was movement.
"Hold them steady!" one of the others shouted.
A small pouch flew across the clearing. The boy who caught it nearly fumbled under pressure but managed to secure it against his chest.
"This has Frostvine leaves," the thrower yelled, his voice strained as he parried a strike. "If someone drops, use it!"
Ivor's gaze sharpened.
Frostvine.