The first howl came again closer, hungrier. Then another answered from the left, and the horses screamed.
The forest erupted.
Shapes burst from the dark lean, grey bodies flashing between the trees, eyes burning. The Nilfgaardian guards reacted in a heartbeat. Swords hissed from sheaths, shields lifted. One of the horses reared, hooves cutting air before a guard yanked the reins and barked, "Hold formation!"
Inside the carriage, Arven woke with a start. His mother's hand was already on his shoulder, trembling slightly. The wheels had stopped moving. Outside, the world filled with growls and steel.
"Mother, what's.."
"Quiet," she whispered, pressing him close.
Fabian, seated opposite, drew a long breath to steady himself. He listened the clash, the snarls, the brief human shouts of command. He'd heard such sounds before, on darker roads. He met his wife's wide eyes and forced a reassuring tone. "It's just wolves," he said. "We've dealt with this kind of inconvenience before."
The carriage rocked as something slammed against its side a wolf thrown by one of the guards. Its body hit the ground with a heavy thud, followed by a wet gurgle. Outside, one of the soldiers cursed, spat, and rammed his sword through another beast mid-leap. The blade burst from its back, spraying blood across the mud.
They fought like veterans tight formation, efficient, brutal. One wolf's head split clean under a downward strike; another was impaled through the ribs before it could even snarl. Their armor gleamed with every motion, black and gold flashing like dark fire in the lantern light.
"Stay down!" one of them barked, shoving his shoulder into a lunging wolf, crushing its snout beneath his boot before skewering it. He kicked the carcass aside and sneered, breath fogging in the cold. "Fucking trash."
The last wolf whimpered, dragging itself back into the brush and didn't make it far before an arrow found it. Then silence again.
Fabian exhaled, slow and deep. He opened the carriage door and stepped out carefully, boots sinking slightly in the wet dirt. The air stank of blood and fur. His guards stood tense, breathing hard, scanning the shadows for movement.
He gave a short nod, then turned back toward the carriage. "See?" he said, forcing a thin smile toward his wife and son. "I told you that.."
A scream cut through the clearing.
Everyone froze.
It wasn't the wild cry of a wolf it was human, raw, filled with terror. One of the guards stumbled backward from the treeline, his torch clattering to the ground.
"What in the fuck.." another began, but his voice died as they saw him.
The man's body was pierced through by splinters of wood long, sharp twigs that jutted from his chest and arms, threading through his flesh like nails. His eyes bulged wide, mouth opening and closing as blood bubbled between his lips.
He collapsed to his knees, choking. "What is… this…" His words came broken, wet. He looked down in disbelief. "Damn…it..."
The other guards rushed to him, shouting, hacking at the wooden growths. Sparks flew as steel met bark but the blades did nothing. The wood didn't crack, didn't even splinter. It pulsed faintly, as if alive.
"Damn it!" one guard roared, striking again and again. "It's no use!"
Fabian's wife clutched Arven close to her chest inside the carriage. The boy's eyes were wide. "Father.."
Fabian turned, gripping the edge of the door. His face had gone pale, but his voice was steady. "Stay inside," he said firmly. "Both of you."
"Fabian.. Please.."
He didn't let her finish. He reached for one of the fallen soldiers' swords a long Nilfgaardian blade slick with wolf blood and stepped into the cold. His expression hardened beneath the shadow of the trees.
"I'll be right back," he said quietly.
Then, with a last look at the carriage at the faint lantern glow and the terrified faces within he strode toward the treeline, steel gleaming faintly in his grip.
A rush of wind tore through the clearing, and from the darkness rose something vast not beast, not man. Bark cracked and shifted like muscle, its limbs creaking as they unfurled into jagged spears of wood. The forest itself seemed to breathe with it.
The Nilfgaardians, seasoned men all, froze for half a heartbeat before instinct took over.
"Formation!" one of them roared.
The thing moved faster than anything that size should have. Roots burst from the earth, skewering a man through the thigh and dragging him screaming into the dark. Another guard swung his sword, carving a deep line into the creature's chest and the blade stuck fast in the wood. The guard barely had time to curse before the leshen's clawed branch tore through his neck, sending a spray of blood over the others.
"Back! BACK!"
They stumbled away, blades slashing wildly, torches flaring against the dark. One soldier threw his spear it pierced clean through one of the creature's shoulders but the monster barely flinched. The spear rattled, then was pushed out, spat onto the ground as the wound sealed with wood.
A guard bellowed, charging forward with his longsword raised. "For the Empire!" he shouted and the leshen's shadow swallowed him whole.
A spike of black wood erupted through his chest, lifting him clean off the ground. His helmet fell, clattering across the roots as he gurgled blood.
Inside the carriage, the screams were muffled, distant but unmistakably human. Arven clung to his mother, trembling so hard. She wrapped herself around him, whispering prayers under her breath to Melitele, to any god that might hear.
Outside, Fabian stumbled backward, spattered with blood. His sword hand shook, not from fear, but fury.
"Fucking monster…" he hissed.
He lifted his blade, eyes hard, and charged.
The leshen turned toward him, its skull-like head tilting slightly as if in curiosity. Fabian slashed upward, the steel ringing as it bit into the creature's side. A howl tore through the air, half wind, half rage. For a moment, he thought he'd done it.
Then the leshen moved.
A single motion swift, silent and a long, splintered branch shot forward, impaling him straight through the heart. The sword fell from his hand, clattering against the roots. His lips parted, eyes wide in shock as blood ran down his chin.
He fell to his knees, looking past the monster toward the carriage. Toward them.
Then he was still.
Inside, his wife's breath broke in a sob. "Fabian…"
The leshen turned toward the carriage and the world seemed to darken around it. The horses shrieked and tore free, vanishing into the trees. Roots crawled along the ground, curling around the wheels.
Then, with a horrible cracking sound, the creature struck.
Wooden spears burst through the sides of the carriage through seats, walls, and flesh alike. The woman screamed as one pierced through her shoulder, another through her leg. She clutched Arven tightly, twisting her body so the boy was shielded beneath her.
"Stay down!" she gasped, her voice breaking. "Don't look, Arven...don't!"
He could feel her blood, hot and sticky, running across his face as the carriage groaned under the assault. The wood creaked and split, sunlight breaking through in thin, golden spears before being swallowed again by the black branches.
****
The forest was still again.
Only the faint whisper of the wind moved through the leaves.
And from the shadows of the trees, a pair of eyes glowed faintly. A man stepped forward, slow and silent, cloak brushing the undergrowth. His sword gleamed in the faint light, silver-white.
He looked at the wreckage the torn carriage, the corpses, the crawling roots still shifting with unnatural life and sighed.
"Tsk…" He tilted his head slightly, as though disappointed rather than afraid. "Of course."
The blade in his hand, that unmistakable Witcher sheen.
"A leshen," he muttered, voice low and grim.
Then he began to walk toward it.