Empire of Blood

Chapter 3: The Aynu

Despite the late summer months, the landscape donned a snow coat deep within the Hinterlands. The sun drifted below the skyline, leaving an oil-spilt canvas with the dusk's beautiful colors. Shadows danced across the ground from the hovering clouds, and the heavens grew shrouded with silvers and blues; the unforgiving torrential blizzard didn't take long to sweep over the ancient emerald nightmare.

The feared and fabled Aynu pack knew the land. They lived inside the Hinterlands as wolves that could shapeshift into humans, always wearing wolf masks, granting them the power to survive Armageddon's harsh tundra forest. The pack never tolerated newcomers: they showed no mercy and killed all in their path.

Two wolves from the pack zipped through the sea of green and white, following an unusual yet delectable scent luring their attention. Within the meadow clearing ahead was a human with three large hunting hounds on leather leashes, looking for the perfect spot to set up camp after tracking a wounded elk that had eluded them for days. The muscular man donned heavy furs from previous kills, protecting him from the blizzard's embrace. His loyal dogs, laikas, were suitable for the hostile weather and were quite versatile hunting dogs: capable of hunting game of all different shapes and sizes. Typically, he wouldn't consider hunting in the northern part of the Hinterlands, but his last few trips proved profitable after selling to Alfheim's butchers.

The wolves growled, piercing yellow eyes fixated on their prey. Three more hid well within the trees behind the hunter's new campsite, silent and ruthless hunters ready to strike at a moment's notice. Yet, they bowed their heads as the She-Wolf, whose fur was white as the forest's snow fleece, stepped forward slightly, nose twitching from the human's scent. The alpha would have been entirely invisible if it weren't for the red-painted claw marks across her face.

The Aynu watched the human set up a post, tethering his dogs, his tiny tent, and a campfire in the meadow clearing before collapsing with his hounds; one laid its head in its owner's lap, whimpering for affection. The wolves tilted their heads, quizzically studying the strange interaction as the human stroked the dog with a free hand and fed the fire with the other.

As the man and his hunting hounds cuddled around the new fire, the She-Wolf lowered her head, her blazing yellow eyes glowing like a full moon. Without turning around, she gave her orders to her unit telepathically: Wait until they sleep. Like other wildlife, the Aynu communicated telepathically in their wolf forms after learning from the dragons many years ago when they allied with mortals. Yet, they retained verbal speech upon assuming their human guises.

Her pack gave low, impatient growls, eager to strike now, but the She-Wolf's intense stare kept them in position. She knew they were hungry, but it wasn't the right time; the alpha watched and waited until the perfect moment, as they had been following their prey all day.

The blizzard eased finally; as her unit of seven wolves circled the camp, concealed in the darkness and thick, verdant brush, one member's paws gently and purposefully brushed against the leaves. The hunting party sneered when one hound's ears picked up the sound and growled as its head whipped forward; the She-Wolf gave it an intense glare, but she remained hidden as the three dogs howled and barked.

Heeding the warning, the hunter grabbed his rifle beside him and loaded the chamber; the alpha ordered her unit to step back, and all was still and quiet once more. However, the three laikas growled through their fangs, hair bristling on their backs, eyes still fixed to where the wolf pack retreated. Yet, they whimpered when the hunter withdrew to his tent and fell asleep, leaving his hounds tied to the pole outside.

The following day when the human awoke, he found his campsite trashed, and one of his dogs was gone with blood trailing across the ground; his two surviving hounds huddled together in fear, away from the massive crimson pawprints tracking through the ancient grove. Judging by the size of their prints, the hunter understood that their predators were like dire wolves.