The sun was sittin’ low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the hard-packed earth as they rolled down into a dry riverbed. Flynn shifted in his saddle, eyeing the cracked, brittle ground. The way the banks curved on either side, this place looked like it had once been a mighty river. But now, there wasn’t so much as a puddle left.

  "You sure ‘bout this spot?" Flynn asked, glancing toward Jed as the old man slowed the wagon. "Ain’t too keen on bedding down in a dry river. Don’t these things have a way of fillin’ up real sudden."

  Jed let out a low chuckle as he pulled the oxen to a stop. "If only."

  Flynn frowned. "Meanin’?"

  Jed gave him a look, then swung a leg over the side of the buckboard, groaning a little as his boots hit the ground. "This river ain't run in years, son. Ain't no floods comin’."

  Luann, still up on the wagon, stretched and took a deep breath of the dry air. "Haven’t seen a proper storm in my whole life."

  Flynn frowned at that. "You tellin’ me it don’t rain?"

  Jed nodded, rubbing his beard as he moved to start unhitching the oxen. "Used to. But somethin’ changed. Sky don’t crack open like it used to. Just keeps getting drier. Wells still got water, but every year, they gotta dig deeper."

  Flynn leaned forward on his saddle, resting his arms on the horn. "That ain’t natural."

  "Ain't much natural left in this world." Jed sighed. "Twelve years back, folk started droppin’ like flies. Famine first, then plagues. Whole towns up and vanished before the Alchemists cooked up a cure."

  Flynn turned his gaze toward the back of the wagon where the crates of medicines and supplies rattled softly in their bindings. "That why we’re haulin’ all this?"

  Luann nodded, hopping down to the ground with practiced ease. "Paradise Valley got hit hard. Still ain’t got enough to go around. We’re takin’ ‘em what we can."

  Jed let out a breath, casting his eyes up toward the darkenin’ sky. "Truth is, I reckon the world’s dyin’."

  "World can’t die." Luann scoffed, grabbing her rifle from the seat and slinging it over her shoulder. "Ain't like some ol’ dog that just lays down one day and don’t get back up."

  The laugh that followed was uneasy. Flynn didn’t join in. Something about this land felt wrong.

  They made camp near the bend of the riverbed, using the banks for cover from the cold night wind. Flynn set up a small perimeter with a few makeshift barriers—nothing fancy, but enough to give ‘em some warning. While Jed got the fire goin’, the scent of beans and bacon started to fill the air. Luann settled near the wagon, pulling a whetstone from her satchel and sharpening the edge of her knife, slow and steady.

  Flynn should’ve been hungry, but he couldn’t sit still. Maybe it was all the time he’d spent sleepin’ off that bullet wound, but his whole body felt restless, uneasy, like a caged animal.

  He finally stood, stretching out his back. "I’m gonna take a look around."

  Jed didn’t look up from the fire. "Don’t go far."

  Luann smirked, barely glancing up from her blade. "Don’t go gettin’ yerself bit by somethin’."

  Flynn gave her a dry look. "Appreciate the concern, darlin’."

  She grinned, then went back to her work.

  Flynn moved through the riverbed, staying low and quiet. His boots crunched over dry stone, the air too still for his liking. Not even a whisper of wind. Something ain’t right. He focused, tapping into that strange new sense the system had given him.

  Eagle Eye.

  Tracks. Big ones. Canine. But wrong. The spacing was too long, too deliberate. The claws at the end too sharp. Flynn crouched, brushing a hand over the nearest print. The dirt was disturbed—fresh. Something had been here. Recently. His pulse kicked up.

  A sound drifted through the night—low, distant, but guttural. Not quite a wolf’s howl. Not quite human, either. Flynn slowly stood up, hand drifting to his Colts. From the campfire, Luann’s blade scraped against the whetstone. Jed stirred the fire, its embers cracklin’ like distant gunfire.

  Flynn exhaled slow. He wasn’t sure what was out there. But he was damn sure it wasn’t friendly. As he made his way back toward the firelight, boots crunching over dry stone, his mind still workin’ over those tracks he’d found. He wasn’t the jumpy type, but something about ‘em itched at the back of his skull. By the time he stepped into camp, Luann was already holdin’ out a tin plate piled with beans and thick-cut bacon. Steam curled up into the cool night air, mixing with the scent of wood smoke.

  “Figured you’d work up an appetite.” She smirked, but her eyes flicked to his expression, like she could tell he had something weighin’ on him.

  Flynn took the plate with a nod. “Much obliged.”

  Jed, who’d been stirrin’ the fire with a metal rod, pointed toward a blackened coffee pot sittin’ in the embers. The rich, bitter scent drifted through the air.

  “Ain’t no meal worth eatin’ without coffee.” The old man muttered.

  Flynn poured himself a cup, takin’ a slow sip before settlin’ onto a rock near the fire. Didn’t say much as he ate, just watched the darkness beyond the campfire’s glow. The riverbed felt too damn quiet. After a few minutes of quiet eatin’, Flynn noticed the horses twitchin’ at their tethers. First one. Then the others. The big bay stamped its hooves, ears swiveling toward the ridge behind them. Flynn chewed slow, eyes narrowing as he set his plate down.

  “Somethin’ spooked ‘em.”

  Jed glanced up from his plate, then toward the horses. His face didn’t change much, but Flynn caught the way his jaw tensed. Luann followed his gaze, sittin’ up a little straighter. She hadn’t touched her food since Flynn got back.

  “You see somethin’ out there?” She asked, voice lower now.

  Flynn tossed the last bite of bacon into his mouth, chewin’ thoughtful. “Tracks. Fresh.” He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Big. Looked canine, but not quite right.”

  Jed let out a slow breath, like a man who just had a bad feelin’ confirmed. “Well, that ain’t good.”

  Luann shifted, hand drifting toward her rifle. Flynn didn’t blame her. Then it came. Low. Deep. Rollin’ across the land like distant thunder.

  A howl.

  But not a normal one. Flynn had heard wolves before—this wasn’t the same. It was too guttural, too stretched out, like the sound was bending in ways it shouldn’t. Jed went still. Real still. Flynn glanced over, saw the way his knuckles whitened around his tin cup. Luann swallowed hard, then cocked the lever on her rifle. The horses pulled harder at their tethers now, eyes wide, whites showin’. One let out a nervous whinny. The fire flickered strangely, like a sudden gust of wind had swept through—but the air was still.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Jed finally spoke, his voice a touch lower than before. “Moon-Haunted.”

  Flynn looked over. “That mean somethin’ to you?”

  Jed licked his lips, gaze still locked on the dark beyond the firelight. “Heard stories. Never believed ‘em.”

  Luann gave him a sharp look. “What kinda stories?”

  Jed didn’t answer right away. The wind shifted. The fire crackled louder. And somewhere out in the black, the howl came again. Jed stared into the darkness, the flickering fire casting deep lines across his face. His voice was steady, but there was something in his eyes—something that didn’t sit right. “Moon-Haunted,” he muttered again, like sayin’ it out loud made it worse.

  Flynn waited, sensing the weight behind those words. Luann’s grip on her rifle tightened, the lever-action already cocked and ready.

  Jed took a slow breath. “They ain’t like other men.”

  Flynn glanced toward the shadows beyond the fire, where the horses were still restless, stompin’ the ground, pullin’ at their tethers. His gut told him whatever was out there wasn’t natural.

  “Meanin’?” Flynn asked.

  Jed hesitated, like he didn’t want to be the one to say it. Then he finally looked Flynn dead in the eye. “They made a pact with somethin’ dark. Gave up their souls for power.”

  Flynn’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t the superstitious type, but that sent a cold prickle down his spine.

  Jed continued, his voice lower now. “Folks say they can skinwalk. Shift their forms. Some say they can wear a man’s face, trick ya into lettin’ ‘em in. Others say they turn into beasts.”

  Flynn’s head snapped toward him. “What do you mean by ‘skinwalk’?”

  Jed’s eyes stayed locked on the night. “I mean, they ain’t just men no more.”

  Luann swallowed, her hands stilling on her rifle. “What kinda beasts?”

  Jed shook his head. “Ain’t rightly known. The old stories are all different, but hearin’ that howl…” he let out a long breath, “…I’d wager wolves.”

  A slow itch crawled up the back of Flynn’s skull. Instinct. Something was watchin’ them. He turned his head—just in time to see a shadow move. A dark, sinuous shape, just beyond the firelight. Then he heard it. Something fast. Something big. Circlin’ the camp. Flynn’s hands moved without thinkin’. He drew—smooth as breathin’—just as a blur of motion came tearing from the darkness.

  The world tilted as the thing slammed into one of the horses. The animal screamed—a high, terrible sound. Hooves flailed, dust kicked up, and then the whole damn horse was dragged, thrashin’, out into the dark. Then—silence. A wet, crunching sound followed. Flynn swallowed. That wasn’t good.

  Luann cursed and grabbed a pouch from her belt. She threw a handful of powder into the fire, and the flames leapt up high, casting light out into the night. That’s when Flynn saw ‘em. They weren’t just wolves. Humanoid shapes, twisted and hunched, covered in ragged fur with ember-red eyes that glowed like coals in the dark. Their claws were too long, their teeth too sharp, their bodies stretching and shifting in ways that weren’t right.

  Flynn counted seven. Maybe more.

  Jed raised his shotgun and fired—the blast hit one square in the chest, sending it sprawlin’ in the dust. But before Flynn could think it was down, the damn thing twitched. Then it started gettin’ back up. Luann fired, puttin’ one straight through another’s head. It dropped. But there were still too many. And as the fire died back down, Flynn could feel it. D?o energy surged into him. Like a current runnin’ through his blood, like a challenge had been issued and the world itself was watchin’ to see what he’d do next. This fight was gonna be unlike any before.

  Flynn dropped low, breathing slow and steady as he activated both Eagle EyeStealth

  The world sharpened. Every detail etched itself into his mind with a crispness he hadn’t felt before. The night no longer felt like an empty void but a space filled with shadows, movement, and deadly intent. The fire’s glow stretched longer, casting strange, flickering figures across the sand. The embers in those unnatural eyes burned brighter. He moved—fast and silent, fading into the dark. His boots barely made a sound as he darted behind a boulder, taking cover. His heart hammered steady in his chest. Then he prayed— to whoever was listenin’, hopin’ neither Jed nor Luann would mistake his movement for the enemy and put a bullet in his back.

  His eyes adjusted further, and he saw them for what they truly were. Not just wolves. Not just beasts. Men. Or what used to be men. The tattered remnants of clothing still clung to their twisted forms. Feathers and beads wove into their shifting fur, the last reminders of something human long since lost. Their bodies flexed unnaturally, limbs stretching in ways bones weren’t meant to bend. Their teeth were too long. Their claws too black.

  Flynn felt something coil in his gut. This wasn’t just savagery—it was corruption. Something dark had taken hold of ‘em. And now it was his job to send ‘em back to hell.

  One of ‘em lunged. Fast. Faster than anything should move. Claws swiped—too close. Flynn twisted, dropping onto one knee as the air hissed past his cheek. The damn thing nearly took his head off. His Colt was already in his hand. He fired once.

  The bullet pinged off a boulder, skipped sideways, and buried itself into the creature’s temple. It staggered—let out a snarling gasp—then dropped. D?o flashed hot through his blood. Flynn didn’t stop. He moved. Another lunged from his right—he pivoted, squeezing off a round at an angle. The bullet ricocheted off a wagon wheel, buried itself straight into the thing’s snarling throat.

  They were fast. But he was faster. Another dropped—D?o surged into him again. Jed fired his shotgun. The blast tore through another one’s chest—but it twitched, rolled, and started to rise. Jed cursed, shoving shells into the chamber as fast as his old hands could move.

  “HEADSHOT!” He bellowed. “THEY ONLY STAY DOWN IF YA HIT THE HEAD!”

  Flynn was already movin’. A third monster lunged from the side—Flynn twisted, firing twice. First into the knee, sending it stumbling—then into the forehead, snapping its head back like it’d been struck with a hammer. It collapsed in the dust. Jed was right. Only a headshot finished ‘em.

  Flynn scanned the battlefield, eyes dartin’ through the darkness. He saw Luann gut one of ‘em with her knife—quick and brutal. But she was too close. Another one—bigger, meaner, eyes burnin’ with raw hunger—barreled toward her from the side. Flynn didn’t think. Didn’t aim. He just let the gun do the talkin’. The Colt bucked in his hand. One shot—dead center between the eyes.

  The beast dropped inches from her.

  Luann’s breath came fast, but she didn’t flinch. Just flicked the blood off her knife and looked his way, eyes wide. “I owe ya.”

  Flynn just flicked his revolver back into place. “You’d do the same.”

  The fire crackled low, casting long shadows against the dry riverbed, but Flynn wasn’t paying attention to the fire. His eyes were on the darkness beyond it, watching, waiting. The smell of blood and gunpowder hung thick in the air, and the night was too damn still. His fingers worked quick, sliding fresh bullets into the cylinders of his Colts, the spent casings cooling in the dirt at his feet. He knew better than to let himself stand still for too long, so he kept moving, circling the camp, keeping to the edges of the firelight.

  He was getting faster. Stronger. The D?o was settling into him, making his movements smoother, his aim sharper. Every time his eyes caught the flicker of movement in the dark, his revolver bucked in his hand, and a shot split the silence.

  The pack was still out there. Watching. Waiting. Then, a deep, rolling howl cut through the night. It was different from the others. Richer. Deeper. Commanding. Flynn knew the sound of an alpha when he heard it. And just like that, the pack began to pull back. A figure stepped forward from the dark, slow and deliberate. It was taller than any man, broad in the shoulders, thick in the limbs. Not fully wolf, not fully man—something caught between. Its muscles bunched and stretched beneath a hide that shimmered strangely in the firelight, and its hands ended in long, black claws.

  But it was the eyes that got him. They weren’t wild like an animal’s. They were watchin’ him. They were thinkin’. Flynn breathed slow, steady. Analyze

  

  That was new. Then, the thing spoke. Its voice was low and guttural, like something that wasn’t meant to talk was forcing words out anyway.

  "This land is ours." It took a step forward, shoulders rippling. "You have taken from us." Another step. "We will take from you." Then it moved. Too fast.

  Flynn had time to move—barely. The thing hit him like a runaway mustang, all raw muscle and speed. One second he was standing, the next, the ground slammed into his back, dust choking his throat. His hat flew off, his guns nearly wrenched from his grip. He hit hard, but he didn’t stop moving. Didn’t have the time. He rolled, pushing himself up just as claws ripped through the space where his throat had been. Too damn close.

  Flynn’s guns were up, already firing. Two shots, dead center. Nothing. The bastard was already moving, twisting sideways like he knew the bullets were coming. Too damn fast. Flynn clenched his jaw. He had speed, sure. But this thing? It had him beat. He needed to outthink it. Firelight flickered against the monster’s skin. It hadn’t gotten too close to the flames yet. Maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it couldn’t.

  He stepped back slow, letting his boots drag just enough to kick up dust, drawing the thing’s focus. It followed, confident, those ember-red eyes locked onto him like a predator closing in on its kill.

  "Luann!" Jed’s voice carried over the crackling flames. "Throw the powder!"

  The moment the words left his mouth, Luann moved. A handful of powder hit the flames. The fire roared up bright and sudden, bursting high, blinding. The Alpha flinched, a low snarl rumbling deep in its chest. Flynn didn’t hesitate. His gun was already up. His finger was already pullin’ the trigger. The shot rang out clean and true—a single bullet burying itself right between those ember-red eyes.

  The creature stood still for a second, almost like it didn’t know it had already lost. Then it crumpled, a massive heap of muscle and fur collapsing into the dust. For a breath, everything was still. Then, a chorus of frantic, panicked yips filled the night. The rest of the pack—leaderless—scattered into the dark. Flynn let out a slow breath, holstering his gun. He could feel the D?o energy surging through him, filling up that cartridge belt in his vision.

  He had won, this time, but something in him told him this wasn’t over.