Morning carried light through the pines, but not peace.
The boy from the pit lay on the damp earth with cramped muscles and cut arms, his skin cracked and glued by dry blood. The wolf's fur trembled as the dead bear lay beside him — thinking it was alive.
Before the boy burned a small fire. Above it hung a fastened skin dripping with grease and smelling of meat. By the fire sat his friend — the same one who in the dark begged the gods that the two of them would not die.
"Awake," the boy said, looking at him with a worry he did not hide.
"I am alive," answered the wild child, though his eyes said otherwise.
The two of them sat. The wolf settled in the shadow behind them — its eyes never slept.
They ate in silence. Only the crackling of the fire and the distant birds testified that the world still existed.
But from the forest, other eyes watched.
The soldiers of Ravenrock had heard the fight the night before. In the morning they decided to check — and when they came out through the pines, they saw the impossible: a wild figure, bloody and thin, with a wolf beside him, like a man from the old tales.
"Do not move! Lower your weapons!" — shouted one of them.
The friend of the wild child — the one who saved him in the night — secretly took the knife from his waist, so they would not recognize the knife and take it away.
The wild child did not fight. Nor did the wolf. Their bodies were too weak to do anything.
They tied him. They lifted him. They led him.
One of the knights asked, "Should we kill the wolf?"
The friend of the wild child said, "No, do not kill him. He is not dangerous and he is my friend."
They continued to carry them into the town.
When Ravenrock saw that wonder — the whole village gathered on the streets. They stared. The crowd murmured:
"What is that? Half-child… half-beast…"
"A wolf follows him like a brother…"
"Wildling… cursed bastard…"
They first took him to the wooden jail at the eastern wall.
The wolf was thrown into a stable, locked with iron bars — a place where dangerous beasts were kept, next to the horse stable.
Then came the call:
"The Prince wants to see him."
And they took him.
The hall was narrow but full. There stood the prince, his wife, the advisor who was like a brother to him, several old men and — the same friend, who stood behind them with a begging gaze.
They placed the wild child on his knees before them.
"Where did you come from?" — asked the prince.
"From the forest," he said. "I live there."
"The forest is not a home, boy," said one of the old men.
"For me it was."
Silence followed. The advisors whispered. The prince watched coldly. Their minds were filled with one thought: is he a danger?
"That child will eat from our hunt," said another. "And the months are cold. Food is short."
"Plus," added a third. "Who knows what else he will bring?"
The friend of the wild boy spoke up:
"I know him. He is a friend. He means no harm. Let him go."
"Friend?" — someone laughed. "You chose well."
"Why should we believe you?" — asked the prince.
The wild child answered:
"I do not want wars. I do not want blood. I only wanted to live."
Then the prince's wife looked at him. Her eyes spilled. As if she saw a ghost from the past.
"Edric…?" — she whispered. "Is that you?"
Tears broke through. She lunged to embrace him, but the guards caught her and dragged her away.
"Separate her!" — ordered the prince. "This is no moment for feelings."
The advisor leaned and whispered something in his ear — no one else heard it.
The decision fell.
"We will not kill him," said the prince. "Nor will we release him. He will serve in the stables. Food — minimal. Supervision — constant. If he approaches me or my wife — he will be strangled before he speaks."
And so it was.
The guards lifted him from the floor and took him outside. The wolf howled from the stable, its voice cracking like iron on ice. It smelled of cold, straw and horse sweat.
They threw him inside among the livestock — a place smelling of urine and wet earth.
"You will work here. You will clean, carry water, bring hay, feed. If you run — we will cut your throat."
The door closed. The padlock clicked.
Soon after came the voice of the princess from the courtyard:
"How can you? He is your first child! He bears your name, Vaelthorne!"
The prince grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the house before the guards could see his forehead trembling.
"I forbid you to approach him," he said harshly. "That boy will bring ruin."
"That boy is your blood," she replied with a breaking voice. "And you have punished him enough."
The prince did not answer. He only shoved her through the door.
The guards pretended not to hear, but their faces were pale as snow.
The following days
For Edric began a life worse than the forest.
Every morning, before the sun rose, the guard woke him:
"Up."
They gave him a dry crust of bread — sometimes half — and a bucket of water for the animals. That bread he shared with the wolf when at night he managed to push the food through the iron bars. The wolf licked from his hand and watched like a man — not like a beast.
The people of Ravenrock looked at him as a cursed wonder.
Children threw stones.
Women spat.
Men murmured when passing:
"Wild."
"Bastard."
"Cursed."
But Edric did not speak. He did not beg. He only worked.
Irony was that in the forest he was free — and here, in the town that should have been his home, he was an animal in a cage.
Three months passed under the cold sky of the border.
The guard watched every step. They did not allow him to leave the stable except when bringing water or hay. The wolf lived beside him behind bars.
Once, when a long morning turned into breath, his friend came from the forest.
He entered quietly into the stable.
"I cannot watch what they are doing to you," he whispered. He gave him a basket with bread, dried meat and some cheese. "If they catch you, they will kill you." — "Do not worry," he said, "you are my friend."
Edric looked at him without words — his eyes said more than language.
The wolf barked quietly. The friend smiled and petted him through the bars.
From that day on, his friend became his only piece of kindness in Ravenrock.
One morning, the princess passed near the stable with a small boy — young, with light brown eyes that burned the same way Edric's did before the wolf. That was his brother — though no one had told him.
Their gazes met.
The boy pulled his mother by the sleeve:
"Mom… why does he not live with us?"
Though he did not know he was his brother, their gazes caught each other.
The princess stroked his hair and whispered:
"Your father does not allow…"
Edric's heart fell into his stomach. No one noticed.
A few days later — the night broke.
Shouting. Screams. Fire.
Above Ravenrock rose flames like towers. Soldiers ran, bells rang, women dragged children.
The stable door opened — his friend stood in the doorway with a sword in hand, his face splattered with blood, smoke and fear in his eyes.
"You must run!" he shouted. "They are coming from Ashkar!"
Edric stepped toward him, but his friend seized his sleeve:
"I am Alaric Thornewood — I will not abandon my home!" his friend said.
He handed him the knife — the same knife he took the first day.
"Run! You are not for this battle! Not yet!"
Then he vanished into fire and steel.
Ashkar entered like the front of a storm. Edric took a weapon from a dead soldier and stood with the guards. The advisor — father of Alaric — was beside him, shoulder to shoulder, though he never looked at him with kindness before.
The prince fell first, stabbed before the gate.
The soldiers faltered. The town cracked.
The prince of Ashkar descended through flames and met Edric in steel. After a long battle — Edric stabbed him in the chest. As soon as he fell, the army's spirit broke.
His best knight and right hand rushed with knights to defend their prince, they pulled the Ashkar prince aside.
But Ashkar did not come alone. The second prince — older and more experienced, more furious — appeared with a fresh army. Ravenrock melted before him.
Up on the walls, Alaric killed five men before falling on his knees, bloody and tired. His father watched as his son fled into the mountains — cowardly — while Edric defended the gate to his last breath.
The advisor was stabbed, but before dying he saw the disappointment he would take to the grave — that his son fled, and the "wildling" stayed to save their home.
Ravenrock fell, everyone threw their weapons and fell to their knees. Edric shouted:
"As long as I stand — I fight!"
And killed three more. But the second prince — fresh, rested — struck him in the temple. Edric fell. They tied him. They ordered that tomorrow they would march toward Ashkar and burn the town, taking what food and wealth they could.
The village burned.
From the house of the princess came screams. The small boy hid behind the fence and watched as his mother was killed, and his sister of twelve was raped and then slaughtered.
When they left the house quietly, the boy clenched a small needle-sword in his hand — and raised his mother's knife. He went to hide.
At that moment he saw the stable burning and the wolf.
The melted roof fell in sparks.
The wolf howled.
The straw burned.
The boy saw it. He broke the padlocks with an iron bar. The wolf burst out and vanished into the forest like a debtor's shadow of the night.
The town bled. Fire. Ash. Graves without stones.
Snow began to fall over the blood, and night descended as quietly as the town died.
And somewhere in the dark — a wolf howled.
End of Chapter Two.