The massive gray wolf before me let out a roar that shook the night, a sonorous, commanding sound that seemed to ripple through the air itself.
I saw nothing except the sweep of its thick fur caught in the night wind, but I heard everything: the terrified whimpers of the feral human and the shuffling retreat of footsteps dragging themselves away from me.
The wolf turned its head. Panic surged through me and I shoved myself backward with my heels, desperate to put even a sliver more distance between us. Its cold blue gaze swept over me, appraising, before the creature pivoted its entire hulking body toward my direction.
A sharp breath tore through my throat.
But before it could move more than a few steps, the wolf collapsed. Its legs buckled and its body hit the ground with a heavy thud, sending a cloud of dust rising into the moonlit air. I coughed and waved a hand in front of my face.
Under the pale wash of moonlight, the wolf's fur seemed to melt away, sinking back beneath bronzed skin. Only then could I clearly see the face that belonged to its human form.
Silver hair, the exact hue of the wolf's coat. High cheekbones, a defined jaw. And unlike Duncan's wild, feral ruggedness, this one carried an inexplicable nobility, as if even blood loss could not dull the refined lines of his features.
A dark wound gaped along his left flank, blood steadily welling and spilling down his side. His breathing came shallow and ragged, the breath of someone teetering on the edge.
Perhaps he had spent the last of his strength to transform.
He could have escaped. He could have staggered toward his pack, toward whatever tribe or territory he belonged to. But why, why did he help me?
It did not matter. He was still a beast. I needed to flee before he regained consciousness or before yet another danger spilled out of the forest.
I pushed myself up, only for a sharp pain to shoot through my ankle and send me stumbling. Probably a sprain from the fall earlier.
Gritting my teeth, I braced against the rough bark of an oak to pull myself upright.
"Help me…"
The weak, broken voice behind me made my blood run cold. I turned sharply, pressing my back to the tree. The wolf—no, the man—lay sprawled against the dirt, lifting his half-lidded blue eyes toward me.
"Help me…" He forced the words out, each syllable trembling on his breath. "I will not harm you…"
As if he was capable of harming anything in this state.
My brows drew tight. No matter how foolish it was to trust a creature like him, I could not ignore the question unfurling in my mind.
Why was he speaking to me as though he already knew I would understand?
His lashes slowly lowered, closing over icy blue.
I edged backward along the tree trunk, inch by inch. Part of me feared he might spring up at any moment.
Blood soaked through the pale linen of his tunic, bright and relentless. At this rate, he would bleed out.
I squeezed my eyes shut, turned away, and forced myself to walk.
"I promise…"
Damn it.
I looked back over my shoulder, cursing under my breath. In the end, I limped my way toward him and dropped down beside his body.
Too many questions coiled around this wolf for me to walk away. Unless he answered them himself, I would never understand.
Besides, he had saved my life. Consider this a repayment of debt. I never liked owing others. Least of all… a beast.
Summoning the last of my strength, I rolled his heavy body over. His skin was ice-cold beneath my fingers, yet sweat beaded across it, mixing with the blood pooling along his side. His body was triggering emergency responses, trying to preserve blood flow to vital organs.
With trembling hands, I lifted his tunic to inspect the wound. A deep gash carved along his flank. Something sharp had pierced him cleanly.
No streams or ponds nearby. No water to clean it.
I squinted into the darkness, searching desperately for anything that could help stanch the bleeding.
A cluster of familiar weeds caught my eye near the tree roots a few meters southwest. I crawled over.
Eclipta prostrata.
I yanked up a handful, shoved it into my mouth, and chewed until it turned to a bitter paste that numbed my tongue. Kneeling beside him again, I spat the crushed herbs into my palm and pressed it firmly onto his wound.
The wolf-man let out several low, fractured groans, muscles tensing beneath my hand. So he was still conscious.
I grabbed the edge of his tunic and tried tearing it, but exhaustion robbed me of strength. My vision flicked to the dagger sheathed at his hip. I seized it, sliced through his clothing, and wrapped the strip tightly around his wound to hold the herbs in place.
Only when I finished did I slump back against the tree, lungs burning.
Whether he lived now depended on luck. If the bleeding slowed, if his body endured, he still had another trial ahead: infection.
Raising the dagger toward the moonlight, I finally noticed the intricate carvings along the gilded hilt. A wolf's head lifted before a full moon, etched by hand.
Unexpectedly exquisite.
And it made me even more curious.
Who exactly was this man?
He did not treat me like livestock. He spoke as though he knew I could comprehend him.
He knew something about humans. Something the beasts of this new era did not.
For now, I would keep this dagger for my own protection.
I had far too many questions. Which meant he needed to wake up... and answer every single one of them.
***