The path narrowed as the forest thickened, roots clawing out from the soil like twisted bones. The mule trudged on, its breath misting in the cool air, dragging the weight of the warrior with each groan of the sled.

Then came the sound—low, steady, rippling through the stillness like a warning drum. The girl froze, her hand tightening around the bundle at her chest. Between the trees, eyes glimmered. Yellow. Many.

“Wolves,” she whispered, her voice thin with fear. Her scarred hand reached for a stone at her side.

The shaman did not stop walking. Her staff tapped once against the earth, her pace unbroken. “Do not raise your hand, child.”

The wolves emerged from the shadows, silent and lean, their fur dark as the forest soil. They did not snarl. They did not close in. They only followed, padding beside the mule, their eyes fixed on the shaman as though they recognized her.

The girl stumbled to the shaman’s side, whispering harshly. “They will tear us apart.”

But the shaman’s face was calm, her clouded gaze never leaving the path ahead. “They will not harm us. They walk where the spirits bid them. For now, they are our company.”

The child swallowed hard, eyes wide as the wolves paced them on both sides, silent as shadows. Their presence made her heart pound, but slowly she realized—they were not hunters tonight. They were sentries.

The forest deepened. Hours passed like days, the girl’s legs trembling beneath her, the mule’s breath heavy. Only the wolves remained constant, their glowing eyes a steady ring around them.

At last, as dusk began to seep through the canopy, the path opened into a hollow between hills. There, half-buried in the earth, rose the faint outline of a dwelling—stone and timber sunk into the side of the hill, more cave than house. Its doorway yawned low and dark, framed by tangled roots and moss.

The girl exhaled a shaky breath of relief, though the wolves did not vanish. They lingered at the edges of the hollow, watching with unblinking eyes.

The shaman raised her staff and tapped it once against the soil before the threshold. The sound echoed strangely, as if the hill itself stirred in answer.

“Home,” she said simply, and stepped forward.