The Wolf of the Wilds

The Blade

They reached the Arbre pack in what seemed like no time at all. The party was greeted by several of the patrol wolves as soon as they crossed the boundary and they were lead through the pack's wooded territory with well practised ease.

Here the forest was aged and grizzled. The trees were tall with twisted branches, their bark a cracked brown, stained by lichens and shaggy mosses. Every so often a silver birch would disturb the muted forest tones, its body pale and almost ghostly. The impenetrable canopy of leaves above left the woodland floor dark and murky; the shadows pulled long by the evening sun.

Helena remained quiet, taking in everything she could about the land around her, noting possible escape routes down ditches and between clumps of foliage, the gentle hills and dips of the terrain and hiding spots in amongst the dense plant life. Her sudden silence had caught Adrian's attention and he watched her with a frown, the frown only deepening as he noticed her eyes darting around the place and her fingers clutching at the handle of her blade.

"Is everything alright?" he said, keeping his voice quiet so no one but her could hear his words. She snapped out of her trance, her hand suddenly tensing.

"I was just looking around. It's habit," she murmured in reply.

"This area is very safe. The Arbre pack hasn't been attacked for almost four decades," he replied, slipping off of his horse with a seasoned grace when they reached the pack's fortifications. Helena copied his actions, somehow managing to dismount her horse without landing on her rear.

As they walked towards the gates, Helena went shoulder to shoulder with Adrian. They passed the raised guard posts and Helena leant in, nodding to the pair of wolves on duty. The guards barely glanced up at the party, totally enthralled by the inane board game they were pouring over.

"That just means that their warriors are inexperienced and relaxed. That isn't a good thing." Helena had an eyebrow raised, her eyes fixed on the unaware wolves.

Adrian, having followed her gaze, just snorted and pressed a hand to his mouth to cover up his amusement.

"You're so cruel, Lena," he murmured back, "but I don't disagree."

They passed through the gates and several stable hands took their horses away to the pack stables to be fed and cared for. Helena was not sad to see her steed go and she watched its retreating figure with thinly veiled contempt.

When the horses were out of sight and the group headed to the physician's clinic, Helena turned her attention to the pack's village. Although village was probably a slight understatement.

She was met by one of the largest, living settlement she'd laid eyes upon in months, if not years. Here the streets were cobbled with rounded, dark stones and the buildings were forged from a similar material. Jagged stone and roughly cut blocks, stacked above other equally sharp and pointed stones. Hefty grey slate roofs balanced atop the heavy duty walls, with glass window panes cut into the stone work in a uniform manner.

They loomed over her like colourless monsters and her breathing grew deeper as anxiety caught hold of her throat with an iron grasp. The streets were bustling with activity, wolves running, walking and jogging back and forth with reckless abandon. It was almost deafening to Helena's sensitive ears; she winced and turned her face to the ground as they passed through the market stools on their way to the other side of town.

She could face monsters without flinching. Spit at alphas without a twinge of fear. She had walked through the ruins of an ancient and crumbled city alone, yet this town, this bustling place full of people was making her unnerved.

She hated it already.

Helena rubbed her thumb against the smooth silver of her knife handle, seeking security and assurance from the deadly heirloom. She barely paid attention to where they were going as Adrian led her towards the physician's home, too caught up in the array of urban structures and swaying trees.