"Humans," Old McKenzie finished for him. "I've heard tales of ancient couriers who, bereft of horses, delivered messages on foot, traversing twenty-six miles in a single, willpower-fueled journey. And as you noted, their bodies invariably failed them afterward—the price of exceeding mortal limits."
"I'm more worried we'll be wolf chow before any of that happens," Raymond miming a dramatic gag. "This isn't open plains; wolves thrive in woodland pursuit. These beasts close the gap with every heartbeat. Papa Northes, the moment of decision is upon us." He turned to Ivan Northes, eyes glinting. "Engage or accelerate our flight?"
(I have only three arrows remaining. At our current pace, they'll eventually overtake us.) Ivan glanced at his near-empty quiver. (If my aim holds true...) "No," he muttered through gritted teeth, "an elite knight never misses."
He signaled for combat engagement. "Understood." Raymond Noytra spurred his black mount forward, assuming the vanguard position. "What exactly is this strategy?" Old McKenzie shouted above the thundering hooves. "Simple—kill and continue," Ivan replied tersely.
They swiftly exchanged positions, Raymond advancing to the front line. Ivan gradually decreased his pace, ensuring all three Dire Wolves entered his bow's effective range. Old McKenzie watched him with undisguised anxiety. "Everything rides on your skill now, lad."
The archer extracted an arrow and, despite the jarring rhythm of horseback, nocked it with practiced precision. "The old man should know better than to doubt," Raymond ducked beneath an overhanging branch. "I've never witnessed him fail."
(Remain steady.) Ivan drew the bowstring taut, aligning his sight with the alpha wolf's form. (The target presents clearly. I will not miss. Absolutely will not...)
"Branch overhead!" Old McKenzie bellowed suddenly. Ivan instinctively bent low, evading the reaching limbs. But in that crucial moment, the arrow released prematurely, flying from his grasp.
The projectile pierced the earth mere inches before the lead wolf's paws. Startled by the sudden intrusion, the beast leapt sideways, momentarily frozen before resuming its charge with renewed fury, fangs bared in menace.
Without hesitation, Ivan reached for his second arrow. The wolves, now alerted to the threat, abandoned their tight formation, dispersing to utilize the undergrowth as tactical cover. (Which target demands priority?) His bow tracked left and right, seeking optimal positioning. (Only two arrows remain...) For the first time in memory, he felt the cold grip of uncertainty.
"Your confidence wavers." Ivan snapped his head around, startled to find Raymond Noytra had fallen back beside him. "What possible reason brings you here?" he hissed through clenched teeth. "Get back to McKenzie!"
"I've reassessed our priorities. Your survival guarantees ours," Raymond replied, a sardonic half-smile playing across his lips. "Exchange positions. Take the vanguard."
"You'll assume rearguard duties?" Ivan Northes asked, disbelief evident in his tone. "With what strategy in mind? Armed only with a longsword, you'll need to allow them within striking distance..."
"And you possess merely two arrows—precious resources that might preserve our lives later, but not in this moment. In our current predicament, archery proves inefficient and prone to error. Your previous shot demonstrated this reality all too clearly."
"But—" Ivan attempted to protest. "No objections, Ivan Northes. Command falls to me now. Exchange positions; you'll lead from the front."
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Confronted with his companion's unwavering resolve, Ivan relented reluctantly. "Very well," he sighed, resignation evident. "May the Triad of Destiny be with you."
Raymond Noytra's laughter burst forth, unexpectedly bright amid their peril. "Rest assured, I've always maintained excellent relations with those three exquisite ladies."
Ivan remained grim-faced. He urged his mount forward, and they executed the tactical shift with fluid precision.
"One can only hope."
He watched Lothar depart. Stellan noted a certain melancholy in the knight's retreating silhouette, but more pressing matters occupied his thoughts. (Thank every deity I managed that deception.) Relief flooded through him as Lannord continued his bestial sprawl across the forest floor. "Forever my burden to bear," he muttered, hauling Lannord back toward the pine's protective shadow. His companion's claws slashed wildly, requiring substantial effort to subdue.
"Now for my own narrative," Stellan murmured to himself. He settled beside Lannord's prone form, his back against the rough bark. "In all honesty, were you embracing me earlier?" he inquired, receiving only a guttural growl in response. "Such deviant tendencies. Yet... I find myself intrigued."
Lannord swiped at him with unexpected ferocity.
Stellan allowed his eyelids to fall, surrendering once more to that familiar darkness. (The endless sky... pale moonlight... whispering winds... and... the flames... viridescent flames.)
The image of the great hawk materialized in his consciousness.
(I shall annihilate you, diminutive avian.) Excitement surged through him with such intensity that his teeth pierced his lower lip, dark crimson essence beading along the wound. (Await my arrival, beloved adversary. I shall reduce you to an existence of perpetual suffering.)
Elsewhere, a bat's eyes flickered open.
Raymond Noytra had established considerable distance between himself and his companions, while the wolf pack closed to dangerous proximity. The alpha, recognizing its quarry had changed, directed the two females to converge from opposing flanks.
"Truly remarkable. Two miles traversed and still your pace quickens." Raymond unsheathed his steel blade, moonlight cascading along its length, causing momentary hesitation among the predators. "This weapon has tasted the lifeblood of countless pack-brothers." He executed an elegant flourish, the blade seemed to dance in the moonlight. The alpha detected the metallic scent of blood permeating the steel, nostrils flaring as it displayed its formidable dentition in naked aggression.
"Well then," Raymond pivoted partially toward his pursuers. "Which among you claims the honor of first blood?"
The alpha committed to initial engagement. It accelerated, angling toward Raymond's left flank. The female wolves maintained precise distance behind the black stallion.
(They refuse coordinated assault?) Raymond observed the approaching alpha, a predatory smile playing across his features. (Cocky bastards.)
Gripping his sword with practiced familiarity, he elevated the blade into a high guard position, the hilt aligned with his right ear. His peripheral vision remained vigilant, monitoring the wolves behind to prevent ambush. The alpha entered striking range, creating mutual vulnerability. Raymond's fingers tensed rhythmically against the hilt, hyperfocused on every nuance of the wolf's movement. The beast initiated its attack, driving toward his left leg, gaze fixed on the junction of foot and saddle—seeking to unhorse its prey. Raymond executed a lateral slash, targeting the creature's exposed flank. With supernatural agility, the alpha propelled itself beyond the arc of steel. Raymond immediately reset his defensive posture.
The subsequent exchanges followed similar patterns. Repeatedly, the alpha targeted his lower extremities, only to be repelled by calculated counters. Yet Raymond found himself increasingly perplexed by his inability to wound his opponent. (Perhaps a question of distance...) he contemplated. (Each attack falls just short of optimal striking range... preventing effective counterattack...) Sudden comprehension dawned.
Raymond cast a swift glance rearward, noting only a single wolf remained in direct pursuit. A disturbance from his right periphery demanded immediate attention. Acting on pure instinct, he shifted leftward, narrowly evading the female wolf's lunging bite. Cold air rushed against his exposed underarm as the Dire Wolf tore away a section of leather armor, the material clenched triumphantly between its jaws.