I run my fingers through the plush scruff as we walk along at a steady pace; the fresh snowfall crunches under the massive paws, and I take in the strangely vacant landscape of bare trees and rocks covered in white powder. 

The wind chill nips at my face as I pull my hat down a little more snuggly around my ears and retreat back into the giant hood of my coat. While I'm not appreciating the way it blocks out my senses, I'm happy for the warmth. "Smell anything?" I ask, stroking the thick coat. 

The wolf shrugs heavily with a sigh; the interference of city life makes tracking difficult in the snow, and we haven't even reached the woods yet. 

Legardo hangs back, sitting on one of the more docile of the fledglings. Tyler walks along beside me, tense on the back of Helen's white creature. I'm just happy to see her with some weight on.

 "Pet her." I exhale to him, trying to calm him. 

His hand trembles as it drags through her coat, and she snaps her teeth in frustration. Verando snarls at her, barking at the space between us, and I thump him with my heel. "Stop," I growl at him. "You're not helping." 

 My main focus was on keeping the peace; out here was not the time to cause a brawl. "How's everyone doing?" I call over my shoulder.

I'm answered by groans and grumbles, apparently riding wolves was a pastime only I enjoyed. I could liken it to riding a horse, with more personality. I felt the wolves were more comfortable than horses for the most part, with the ambling gait they had in between their trot and, what I would refer to as a gallop, it was pretty relaxing. Not jarring in the least, which helped my sore backside and back.

 Just as horses had superior breeding, lycan breeding played a part in the comfort and athleticism of the animal. I vaguely recall Tonic not being nearly as comfortable riding as 'Alpha'.

 "How does she feel?" I ask Tyler, trying to stir up conversation. 

Tyler exhales, tightening his scarf around his neck. "Like she wants to explode; like I'm on a buckin' bronco fit to be tied. Are you sure we're supposed to be ridin' these things?" 

Helen lays her ears back, and I respond to him with a stern look. 

"Remember she can hear you." I eye the wolf, pushing Verando closer to her with my thigh. "Maybe we should tie her off? I'd hate for her to get loose out here." 

I don't know how they would hunt tethered, Verando was the only hunter, the rest were still in training. But, losing Malka to the woods would mean never seeing her again. While I was sure Verando could track her down eventually, could we find her before something else did?

Adjusting my seat on the large vest Marcello had made for our lycan companions, I snag a rope out of one of the packs attached to it and toss one end to Tyler. "Tie it to her harness with a slip knot. We'll untie her when we turn them loose to hunt and make camp."

Grayson pushes his wolf to come up behind us, the black creature dares not get too close to the bickering Alphas. "Excuse me? Make camp? Nobody said anything about staying the night outside." 

Of course, why wouldn't we? 

"The best hunting happens at night, we need to practice our skills. You aren't afraid of the dark, are you, Grayson? You're lucky, there aren't any infected lycans hunting us in these woods. We are quite safe when compared to what could be out here." 

Grayson has no response for me, torn between his want to impress me and his will to live. I felt confident that Verando would alert me if he found any of our predicament to be out of the norm. The wind picks up the closer we get to the edge of the woods and it seems almost as if a barrier had formed, separating the two districts so starkly with a massive tree line. 

Without the snowfall, it would be difficult to enter at all. The fresh pack weighs the dead limbs down, carving a thin trail into the depths of the darkness. 

Tyler whistled in appreciation, "They weren't kidding when they said it was hard to get into these things."

"I imagine one can get lost in here quite easily." Checking my watch, the face of it only shows fuzz and static. "No Artifice out here. Good. That means no one can track us." I touch Verando's neck as I peer through the erect ears. "Do you think you can get us back out of here?"

"Yes, if we don't stray too far." I have to trust that this is the logical side of the creature and not the ego talking. We press forward, forced into a single file line. I hunker down close to his coat, relishing in the warmth of his plush fur. Another difference between him and the fledglings. Their coats were shorter, rougher, more like that of a coyote than the thick mane of a wolf designed to live in the tundra. 

"Caleb doesn't want to go!" Sef calls from behind; we had paired her with one of the gentler wolves, a timid younger male who was often quite clumsy. 

It doesn't surprise me that he hesitated. "Is there anyone behind you?" I call back.

"Hank?" She almost sounds saddened by that fact. 

The coveted fire mage wasn't known for his patience. 

"Well, I suspect you'll be following us promptly." It's more to myself than out loud, not wishing to alert them to the incoming encouragement of an angry fire mage. The resounding yelp answers that question, and I almost pity the timid male. But, we have no time for reluctance. The space begins to open up, and Verando instructs the group to fan out but stay behind him.

 This catches me off guard, I can feel the tension building in his shoulders the further we get into the woods. His steps become lighter, more calculated, his body rigid as those large ears swivel to capture noises I could dream of hearing. "What do you think?" 

"I'm not sure. Something feels off." 

His ears scan our surroundings, and a sudden abrupt barking startles us all. Birds erupt from the dead trees, covering us in heavy, fallen snow. I try not to shiver too intensely as Verando shakes his coat, sending the snow in all directions. 

I feel the rumble in his throat and regret tying him off to Helen. My hands instinctively reach for the rope, fumbling in my pockets as I hedge on cutting her free.

"Whoever did that, you're dead when we stop to rest. Control yourselves!"Verando snaps in frustration, glancing at me over his shoulder to check on me.

Once more, it's Caleb who's struggling. "I heard something. It sounded like a whisper." he manages, almost pouting, his voice low.

Verando shakes out his back paw as he steps out of the deep snow. "I didn't hear it. Stay alert, move forward." 

We press onward at a slightly quicker pace, weaving through the trees in an attempt to create a wall of wolves to maximize the available noses to gather scents. I took the opportunity to practice with Tyler, we controlled the snow as we could; conjuring it off the branches and carving a space for our passage as best as we could. 

Sulema, our nature-wielding elf, guides the branches up into an archway. I note the grumbling from my lycan as a snowball flies overhead, Pascal hums innocently. While my inner child wants to gleefully participate, I capture the return fire in the air and disintegrate the ball. 

"This is no time to be fooling around." I can feel the disdain, the seething temper of a dictator forced to babysit children. He regretted this, the anger boiling to the surface. We were battle-torn, the traumatic events of being hunted through the woods, how many friends we lost along the way. 

Snow plummets from the sky, and Verando scoots out of the way, narrowly avoiding it. 

"I can't do this, Nic." He manages, coat bristled. "I'm losing my bloody mind. These amateurs are going to get us killed, I can't-" 

 I sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose as I turn to see the group look just as uncertain as we do. Branches begin to crackle and pop, and a low groan from trees baring the weight of unnatural beings echoes through the close proximity of the trees. It's a hushed, clicking rumble as if something were trying to croak out a sentence. 

We hunker down into the snow, a gentle murmur coaxes through my ears but it's not a language I understand.

 Verando lays his ears back, "That's the language of the dead. We need to get out of these trees, we have to get to that clearing." 

"Language of what?" Tyler demands.

The black cloud descends on us with a mighty squeal as the shadows turn into figures.

 "Wraiths." Verando growls, "Don't let them touch you. We need to find some light.  Nic, Tyler, clear the snow." 

I work on making a trail, maneuvering the snow as fast as I dare as we race through the close quarters.  With Tyler's help, we attempt to create a shield over the top of the group of bounding lycans yet it seems to only give them a beacon on where to find us. 

"They are dead; you can't stop them with a barrier. They're afraid of light." Verando calls over his shoulder, only to grunt as we slide down an embankment; the rocks skitter and pop off the dead trees around us as we crash through the prickly undergrowth. The echoing patterns make it difficult to decipher what's a wraith and what's debris. 

"Hank! We need light!" I call out to the fire mage who attempts to create the spark. The wraiths screech in anger at the flicker in the darkness. Dark, foggy steeds run alongside us, and I feel they are attempting to herd our group towards the depths of the woods. "Grayson-"

"On it!" Creating a spark, he sends a charge through the trees, and the dark bark of the wood snaps and explodes. I hide my face in the scruff of my wolf as I try to keep pace with the agility of a predator in retreat. The wraiths dissipate, and I instruct Hank to keep a fire going toward the back of our group as I hear the roar of a river.

"Head towards the water; where there is water, there could be a clearing."

A clearing would only help us until nightfall. They wanted us in the woods; they wanted us to get lost because once night fell, we would have little way to protect ourselves against them. I pull hard on Verando's scruff as we come to a screeching halt, a pile-up of wolves colliding with us as we gather in a huddle of panting bodies. 

"We must leave the woods; once night comes, we will be at their mercy."

All eyes turn to the gray male, who looks quite uncertain. "The scent of death surrounds us, it would take all day to get out of here, and we don't have that kind of time."

"There's no moon tonight." Legardo points out with a frown. "We will be trapped in here."

"We have a fire mage and electricity; we will be fine," I assure them sternly, cringing at the echoing screech of the returning wraiths. 

"Send a blast of fire down that path and see how many are following us. As you produce the flame, spin it, it will cut whatever is in its path." Verando instructs the hot-tempered male.

As he produced the pinwheel that Penelope was infamous for, my stomach dropped at the haunting eyes that faded as the blaze traveled. Dozens, too many to count, this forest had been consuming souls for hundreds of years, and each soul destroyed became another wraith for the table. 

"Bloody hell..."

I swallow hard, unwilling to accept defeat by a wraith. "We can do this. We have overcome much worse, let's go." I encourage him to go as fast as he dares, the pack struggles to keep up with the speed, and I'm forced to pull him back. I want to escape just as severely as he does, but we're caught in the never-ending battle of fighting off the wraiths and being chased further and further away from the water source. 

The sound echoes off every tree, carrying us in endless circles as we desperately fight through unfamiliar foliage. It would seem we couldn't even go in circles, as every time we came back around, the trees were somehow in a state of repair. 

Exhaustion begins to overtake the group, and I place my hand between the gray ears as we slow to a walk, and he pants harder than I feel comfortable with. A lack of actual exercise mixed with the deep snow and his refusal to eat this morning had brought us full circle to an ill-equipped mixture. 

The screeches are overwhelming as Hank produces another fire pinwheel, chasing off the group of ghouls once more. 

"I'm exhausted..." he admits, his hands blistered and bloodied from the attempts. I have to say Grayson isn't fairing much better; I purse my lips and stare into the darkness of the impenetrable woods. Before, we had made a funnel from the wind, but it might just suck the wraiths right to us. 

But what other choice did we have?

I turned my attention to Tyler; drawing off Verando was not currently an option. "You're going to have to help me create a wind tunnel. We will blow these trees to pieces, which should guide us to the river." 

Tyler looks reluctant, but I don't allow him to come to my conclusions. 

"Once this tunnel is open, the wraiths will have a clear path to us. We must go to the river as fast as possible. Does everyone understand?" The group collectively nods as I gather my wits. "Alright, Tyler, on my signal, think of a tornado and aim where I do." I shut my eyes to feel the river through all the death and destruction. 

As Solomonari monks, we did a lot of meditating through school. While everyone around us was consumed, tortured, and burned alive, there were a few of us who were able to conjure through the despair. Those who could manage that could survive. How was it that the schooling was helping me when it felt like the most cruel instruction for privileged youths?

Maybe I would need to pray to the dragons later to thank them for the torment.

The eyes feel heavy upon me; it's as if the sun itself feared entering this place. 

The trees almost lean in, wanting to cover and consume us as the wind murmurs in my ears. Then, I hear the peaceful hum of a river, gentle as a whisper. It's a beacon, a chime carried by the wind calling the essence of who I was. If I could find water, I could get us out of here.

 I aim to create my burst as Tyler follows suit. The trees groan, and the looming dead shriek in protest as the uprooted skeletons crash through the dense growth. "Now!" I command them, tangling my hands in the harness as we surge toward the opening at the end of the funnel. I send another push as the trees lean in, gripping and grabbing at our clothes, attempting to stop us. 

It feels as though undead hands are outstretched, branches turned to limbs as we fight through the wood. An outstretched ghostly hand grasps the rope between our two lycans, and I try not to scream in panic as we're pulled off the ground and into the limbs of the trees. Verando twists his body, shoving me free of his back before kicking Tyler with one of his hind feet and sending him crashing to the ground. 

"Hank! Grayson!" I shout as Legardo snags my jacket and pulls me onto the back of his lean wolf. "Thanks, Gardo." 

He nods, assuring that Sef grabs Tyler. 

Hank fires inferno blasts at the ghouls as the two wolves thrash in their vests. Why did I tie them? I knew better; I knew it was a mistake. The creature hisses, unwilling to drop its reward as other wraiths reach and snatch past the flames and electricity. They're drug up into the trees, crashing through branches as Verando attempts to cut the rope between them with his fangs. 

At the last moment, before the coats vanish in the darkness, Helen swipes at the wraith and runs her paw right through it. She yelps loudly in agony, and the phantom releases them in startled surprise as it tries to reassemble its body.

 The two wolves plummet to the ground, and I send a gust of air to cushion the fall as they crash down into the snow. In our haste, we tumble down the downslope, crashing through the brush and tattered stumps as we burst through the last hints of the tree line and into the clearing. 

As a group, we sprawl in the snow, heaps of battered and busted lycan and magic users. I groan as I prop myself up on my elbows, pushing Grayson out of my face as he leans over me to check on me. I crawl towards Helen and Verando, snagging the rope and slicing it with my knife as Tyler joins me.

 "I'm so sorry, Randy. That was so stupid. I should never have tied you together; I don't know what I was thinking." 

He slowly rises to a sitting position, elevating one of his paws to get the weight off it. 

"Are you alright?" He asks immediately, bumping me with his muzzle. I wrap my arms around his furry neck and hug him tightly. Helen, however, had not faired so well. Her paw is badly burned from touching the wraith. She whimpers as Tyler packs snow over it to ease the ache. 

"I'm fine-" I tell him hurriedly. "Sef!" 

Our bruised healer limps towards us and carefully dusts away the snow. She frowns, giving me an uncertain look.  

"For this, I'll need full contact, but if she shifts to a human in this weather and this condition, will the wolf be able to return, and will she not die of exposure?" 

I hadn't thought of that. We hadn't brought much for clothes or food for our Lycan counterparts. We had planned on having game to eat, not running for our lives. But with the wraiths, there was little chance of any prey in these woods. 

I slump down to sit and run my hand through my hair, trying to think. "Let's build a fire and set up camp, and for the love of the gods, be careful going near those woods. We need as big of fire as we can stand, it will be a long night."