The silence before the ambush wasn’t peaceful.

  It was surgical.

  Nine crouched low behind the tree, barely breathing. The air around the cave was thick—coated in the metallic tang of blood, in the scent of decay and damp fur. Corpses, half-eaten and fresh, littered the ground like discarded offerings.

  Then… he heard it.

  The shift in the leaves behind him. The soft pad of paws on moss. The breath caught in a beast’s throat before the lunge.

  His eyes widened.

  It’s not me setting the trap…

  I’m in theirs.

  He spun around, sword raised—

  A fsh of grey fur.

  Too close.

  The wolf came from the left, a blur of muscle and rage. It didn’t snarl—it didn’t need to. Its jaws opened wide, rows of teeth aimed at Nine’s throat.

  He twisted, smming the sword up with both hands.

  Steel met skull with a sickening crack.

  The beast’s body twisted mid-air, flung sideways by the blow. It hit the ground with a dull thud—alive, but dazed.

  But Nine had no time to watch.

  A second wolf burst from the underbrush—lower, faster, silent. It hit him in the side, cws tearing through his shirt, raking across his ribs.

  GAH! He stumbled, pain blooming across his torso like fire.

  He swung wildly, catching the wolf in the leg. It yelped and backed off, snarling.

  Blood soaked into the fabric around his waist. His heart pounded in his ears.

  He backed up—limping, breathing hard—trying to get his footing, but the wolves had circled him now. One in front. One behind.

  Then came the voice.

  "Don’t make this harder, human." Smooth. Amused.

  He turned.

  The thing stepping out of the cave wasn’t a wolf.

  It was something worse.

  Small, maybe half his height, but upright—bipedal. Its legs were canine, digitigrade, but its arms were long and limber. Cwed. It wore nothing, but its body was lean, corded with muscle. Its mouth was filled with sharp, bck teeth. And its eyes—those burned with intelligence.

  Predatory.

  Amused.

  "Yes… you’ll be perfect." "Perfect for what?" Nine growled, sword raised. "For my food, of course." The thing licked its lips, eyes dancing with delight.

  Nine’s arms trembled slightly. Blood trickled down his side. His grip tightened on the sword’s hilt.

  One of the wolves snarled behind him, inching forward.

  "Fuck…" he whispered. "They’re pying with me." "Hey!" the creature shouted, flopping zily to the ground like a beast stretching in the sun. "Don’t kill him too fast. I like my meat warm." The rage in Nine boiled up like a scream behind his teeth.

  But the wolves didn’t wait.

  The first wolf lunged—and Nine was already moving.

  His sword came up in a tight arc, crashing into the creature’s face mid-jump. The bde didn't cleave—it crushed, snapping bone, knocking the wolf aside with a cry that echoed through the trees.

  But another was already on him.

  This one came low, jaws open wide.

  Nine twisted too te—teeth sank into his thigh.

  AAHH!! He screamed, bringing the pommel of the sword down on the wolf’s skull again and again. The beast let go, yelping, and staggered back.

  Blood ran freely down his leg. Hot. Sticky. Every heartbeat pumped more pain into the wound.

  He backed up, sword dragging, vision swimming—and froze.

  Two more wolves were circling out of the trees.

  No sound.

  No growl.

  Just cold, methodical movement.

  “Four…” he hissed. “Four of them now?” His hands tightened on the grip. His shoulders rose and fell like bellows. He couldn't back out. Not now. Not this deep.

  The wolves lunged together.

  He dodged left, but not fast enough—one cw tore across his back. The force sent him sprawling to the side. He rolled, sword still in hand, and sshed upward blindly as another wolf pounced.

  The bde caught the beast under the jaw—cutting deep. It yelped and crashed sideways, bleeding, not dead.

  The moment he stood—another hit him from behind.

  He fell forward, gritting his teeth as his chin smmed into the earth. Warm blood dripped into his eye.

  He turned on instinct and rammed the sword upward into the belly of the wolf above him.

  It howled, cws thrashing, trying to get away—but Nine shoved, forcing the bde deeper.

  Then—snap.

  The sword cracked.

  Too much strain. Too much pressure.

  The beast colpsed sideways, dying, but the bde was ruined—jagged, broken.

  His breaths came in short, shallow bursts now. Chest heaving. Every nerve screaming.

  He tried to rise—but the st two wolves blocked him.

  One to his front. One to his right.

  Their eyes gleamed in the low light. Their breaths came in cold puffs. One limped. One was fresh.

  And both knew he was almost done.

  From behind them, the intelligent creature cpped slowly.

  “I must say, this is better than I expected,” it ughed, eyes gleaming with delight. “So weak… yet you refuse to die. Pathetic. Inspiring.” “I… survived worse…” Nine muttered, staggering upright, clutching the broken bde like it still had weight. His knees shook.

  His arms trembled.

  He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore.

  But he stood.

  And the wolves came.

  The wolves came as one.

  A blur of grey, red, and teeth. One from the side, another straight ahead.

  Nine moved on instinct alone.

  He ducked the first—barely. Its cws raked the air above his head. The second crashed into his left side, sending him tumbling through the dirt.

  His back smmed against a tree trunk.

  He gasped.

  Couldn’t breathe.

  Couldn’t think.

  His leg was torn. His back shredded. His arms hung heavy. The sword—what remained of it—was somewhere in the grass.

  He blinked sweat and blood from his eyes.

  The wolves circled again.

  He tried to stand—one knee bent under him, but the other colpsed. He dropped to the ground, coughing, spitting blood.

  “Come on… get up…” he whispered. “Come on…” His hand went to his belt—clutching for anything—and found it.

  The letter knife.

  Still there.

  Still sharp.

  Still waiting.

  "So who’s more terrifying?" "Not you…" he growled through bloody teeth. The creature rose slowly from the rock it had lounged on.

  “You should’ve stayed down, little rabbit…” It walked on two legs—casual, deliberate.

  It stepped past the wolves, licking its cws.

  “This has been fun, really. But you’re not going to get away this time.” It stood before him now, a full head taller from Nine’s position on the ground.

  It smiled.

  Wide.

  Wicked.

  And grabbed him by the throat.

  He couldn’t breathe. Could barely move.

  It leaned close, hot breath against his face, eyes gleaming like polished knives.

  “You smell… delicious.” Then—its eyes widened.

  Nine’s hand had moved beneath its ribs.

  **The letter knife—**jammed upward with every st ounce of strength.

  “H-how…?” the creature gasped. It stumbled back, cwing at the hilt. Blood poured in thick, dark streams.

  “Th-this can’t… b-be…” It fell.

  Hard.

  Breathless.

  Twitching.

  Then still.

  Its blood soaked into the soil, steaming slightly against the cold air.

  The wolves backed away, hackles raised. They looked at Nine. Then at their fallen master.

  And vanished into the brush.

  Gone.

  Nine colpsed onto his side, gasping.

  Every part of him screamed.

  He blinked slowly, vision flickering at the edges. His hands were numb. His legs wouldn’t respond.

  “I… I did it…” he muttered. The sky above him blurred.

  A blur of white. Blue. Green.

  He y there in the dirt, shaking, broken.

  But alive.

  And this time, the light didn’t feel like judgment.

  It felt like a reward.