Jack and Kleo had accepted the Woogs' invitation to join them on a night walk, a meandering journey through the fields toward the river. It would be the culmination of their stay. They would continue north in the morning, winding their way toward Ilimar.

  They walked hand in hand through the tall grass, its cool blades brushing against their legs. Above them, the night sky stretched vast and clear, stars scattered like countless tiny fires—distant yet vivid.

  Around them, Woogs moved with quiet ease, the soft crunch of their footsteps blending with the whisper of the wind. Adults guided children, their movements steady and rhythmic, as if the serenity of the natural world called for reverence.

  Apart from hushed murmurs, no one spoke. The silence felt alive, a shared acknowledgment of the boundless beauty above and the peaceful moment below.

  The moonlight illuminated their path, casting long shadows across the grass. As they walked, Jack found himself captivated by the beauty and quiet elegance of the woman at his side. Her every movement seemed effortless, her presence grounding yet intoxicating. Every so often, he would tug on her hand, pulling it back and arcing it over her head. She’d twirl with a playful grace, her laughter mingling with his in the still night air.

  Their time together had been brief, but Jack couldn’t help feeling a deep and growing enchantment with her. A sense that she was unlike anyone he’d ever known.

  Kleo stopped mid-step, her entire body going rigid. Jack, caught off guard, stumbled before noticing the intensity in her expression. Her eyes scanned the field ahead with laser focus, her posture tense and deliberate. Something was wrong.

  She made a sharp, hissing sound—"Shi!"—then raised her hand, signaling everyone to get down and stay silent. She dropped to her haunches, pulling Jack’s arm to ensure he followed suit.

  Chief Harold reacted immediately, pressing his palm downward, a gesture for silence and stillness.

  Kleo held her hand perpendicular, like a blade, and made a precise slicing motion, indicating the direction of the threat: ahead and to the left.

  Chief Harold gave a curt nod and gestured to Chester and Willard. They exchanged silent glances before creeping forward, their movements so quiet they seemed to melt into the grass.

  Kleo turned to Jack, her hand flashing the signal to hold—stay where you are. Without waiting for his response, she followed the Woog men, her steps as light as shadows.

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  Jack glanced behind him at the rest of the Woogs. They were motionless, their expressions calm yet alert. Even the children remained still, their wide eyes watching the adults with quiet trust.

  The atmosphere was charged, like the tense moments before a storm unleashed its fury. Though silent, the group radiated readiness, poised to act the instant the need arose.

  Kleo placed a hand on the chieftain’s spear, her words fast and fluid as she recited an incantation under her breath. The air around them seemed to ripple, and the world shifted. A veil of darkness descended over the walking party, not like a shadow, but as if the very light within their perimeter was being pushed outward.

  Beyond the boundary of the spell, the night brightened unnaturally, the surrounding fields bathed in an eerie, purple-tinged dusk.

  They waited, the silence heavy and taut. The Woogs crouched low, blending into the shrouded darkness, their breaths slow and deliberate. Jack felt his breath hitch, the strange tension tightening his chest as the moments dragged on.

  Then, he saw it.

  Blades of grass swayed without natural reason, parting in the direction Kleo had indicated earlier. The disturbance was subtle at first, but the movement was unmistakable.

  The wolf emerged.

  Massive and black as a starless sky, the wolf's head and shoulders gleamed in the unnatural light beyond the veil. The beast moved with terrifying grace, its powerful form sliding through the grass like a liquid shadow. Its nostrils flared rhythmically, sniffing the air, and its head turned in sharp, deliberate arcs.

  The wolf's eyes glowed faintly—unnatural, otherworldly—and darted with predatory intent.

  It sensed prey.

  But it couldn’t find it.

  The veil cloaked them, turning their presence into a void he hoped the beast couldn’t penetrate. Still, Jack could feel its presence, a primal and malign force, radiating a hunger that was more than physical. It prowled closer, its massive paws pressing into the earth, stalking something it knew was there—but couldn’t see or smell.

  Kleo’s fingers tightened around the spear, her body tense as a coiled spring. She leaned closer to the chieftain, whispering. “Wait.”

  The wolf paused, its massive head lowering as it sniffed the ground, searching for something beyond the edge of comprehension. It exhaled, a low growl rumbling in its throat, its frustration mounting.

  Jack’s pulse thundered in his ears as he fought the primal urge to bolt, every instinct screaming at him to run. But Kleo’s calm presence, the iron control in her posture, anchored him. He trusted her to lead them through whatever was about to happen. As he saw it, his job was simple: protect her, protect the Woogs, and—if possible—keep himself alive. Admittedly, not dying wasn’t his top priority, but it was close.

  Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the wolf turned and slinked back into the tall grass, heading toward the river.

  Jack breathed a loud sigh of relief, the sound unintentional but undeniable. All eyes turned to him—"Oops," he muttered, raising his hands to apologize.

  The tension eased as the wolf’s presence faded, though a distant howl soon pierced the night, still too close for Jack’s liking. Kleo, unfazed, gave Chief Harold a signal to move.

  Without a word, the group began their quiet retreat, rewinding their way toward the safety of the Woog village.