Arcane Fang

## 4. The Path Forward ### 4.1. Plans and a destination The fire had burned low, the faint embers glowing beneath the makeshift spit Calwyn had fashioned the night before. The lingering scent of roasted meat clung to the air, mingling with the earthy dampness of the swamp. Calwyn crouched by the fire, quietly slicing the remaining rabbit into strips to dry for later. Vera sat nearby, her back resting against the crumbling wall of the outpost. Her golden eyes flicked toward him occasionally, though her focus remained on the spear in her lap, the sharpened point glinting faintly in the morning light. "We can't stay here much longer," she said finally, breaking the silence. Calwyn nodded without looking up. "Agreed. But we need to think carefully about where we're headed. The swamp is big enough to lose their trail, but if we get turned around, we'll lose ourselves too." Vera's ears twitched. "There's a place further in-an old trading post, or what's left of it. It's a good spot to lay low." Calwyn paused, glancing up at her. "And how do you know about this trading post?" "I've traveled through the swamp before," she said curtly, her gaze hardening. "It's out of their way, and the terrain's rough enough to slow anyone following us." Something in her tone gave him pause, but Calwyn didn't press. Instead, he nodded slightly, his knife continuing its rhythmic work. "Sounds like a plan," he said evenly. "But we need to be ready for anything. This place has already thrown enough surprises at us." Vera huffed, leaning forward slightly. "We won't get far if we keep worrying about every shadow. Sometimes you have to take the risk." Calwyn raised an eyebrow, his amber eyes meeting hers. "And sometimes taking unnecessary risks gets people killed." The air between them grew still, the crackle of the fire the only sound. Vera's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she leaned back, her expression unreadable. "You're cautious. That's good," she said quietly. "But caution won't save us if they find us again." Calwyn didn't respond immediately. Instead, he bundled the dried meat into a small pouch. "Caution won't save us," he admitted, standing and slinging his pack over his shoulder. "But it'll give us a chance." Vera watched him for a moment before standing as well, adjusting the strap of her leather satchel. "Let's hope your chance is enough," she muttered, turning toward the doorway. Calwyn's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles as he followed her out into the swamp. ### 4.3. Journey to the trading post The swamp seemed to close in around them as they moved further from the outpost, the trees growing denser and the mist clinging to the ground like a living thing. Calwyn adjusted the strap of his pack, his amber eyes scanning the terrain for any signs of danger. Vera led the way, her spear angled slightly forward and her movements precise and deliberate. The silence between them was comfortable, broken only by the occasional squelch of mud underfoot or the faint call of a distant bird. Every now and then, Vera would pause, her ears swiveling as she listened to the sounds of the swamp, her golden eyes narrowing at the faintest rustle. "You're quiet," she said finally, glancing over her shoulder at Calwyn. "For someone from a village." Calwyn raised an eyebrow but kept his steps light, his boots avoiding the gnarled roots that snaked across the ground. "I've spent enough time in places like this to learn how to walk without breaking my neck." "Places like this?" Vera repeated, her tone skeptical. "Swamps, forests, anywhere people don't bother going unless they have to," Calwyn said simply. "Doesn't pay to be loud in places like these." Vera huffed softly, turning her attention back to the path ahead. "At least you're not slowing me down." They continued in silence, the air growing heavier as the mist thickened. Calwyn's senses prickled, an odd sensation of being watched crawling up his spine. He tightened his grip on the bow slung across his shoulder, his instincts sharpening with every step. "Something feels off," he muttered, his voice low. Calwyn reached in his backpack, taking out two arrows. Holding them loosely in his free hand, he kept his bow ready, his eyes scanning the swamp for any signs of movement. Vera stopped abruptly, her ears flattening against her head. "You feel it too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Before Calwyn could respond, a low growl rippled through the air, deep and guttural. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he immediately nocked an arrow, drawing the bowstring taut. The growl came again, closer this time, accompanied by the sound of something large moving through the underbrush. "Left," Vera said sharply, pivoting to face the sound. Her spear gleamed faintly in the filtered sunlight as she shifted into a defensive stance. ### 4.3. The swamprowler's threat From the shadows, a hulking creature emerged, its mottled green and brown scales blending seamlessly with the swamp. It moved on four powerful legs, its broad snout lined with jagged teeth and its glowing yellow eyes fixed on them. A crest of spines ran down its back, and its long tail lashed menacingly, sending water and mud flying. "Swamprowler," Vera growled, her golden eyes narrowing. "Stay behind me, and ready with your bow." Calwyn didn't argue, but he kept his bow raised, tracking the creature's movements. "Looks like it's hungry," he muttered, his voice calm despite the tension in the air. The creature snarled, lunging forward with surprising speed. Vera darted to the side, thrusting her spear toward its flank. The sharp point glanced off the thick scales, but the force of the blow made the creature hesitate, its head whipping toward her. Calwyn seized the opportunity, releasing his arrow with practiced precision. The shaft struck just below the creature's crest, where the scales thinned, eliciting a pained roar. The swamprowler spun toward him, its tail whipping through the air. Calwyn dropped to one knee, narrowly avoiding the blow as mud splattered across his face. "Move!" Vera barked, lunging again. This time, her spear found a weaker spot, slipping between the scales near its shoulder. The creature howled, rearing back as blood oozed from the wound. Calwyn was already on his feet, another arrow nocked and ready. He took a steady breath, his amber eyes locking onto the creature's movements. It charged toward Vera, its maw snapping, but she leapt aside with a grace that left it stumbling in the muck. "Now!" she shouted. Calwyn released his arrow, the shaft burying itself deep into the swamprowler's exposed side. The creature staggered, its movements growing sluggish as it thrashed wildly. Vera moved in for the final blow, driving her spear into its throat with a powerful thrust. After the Swamprowler collapsed, Calwyn crouched by its side, carefully retrieving his arrows from its flank. He wiped them clean on the moss before sliding one in his backpack, and keeping one out, ready. The swamp fell silent as the creature collapsed, its massive body sinking partially into the mud. Vera stood over it, her chest heaving, the spear still gripped tightly in her hands. Calwyn lowered his bow, exhaling slowly as he approached. "You okay?" he asked, his voice steady. Vera nodded, pulling the spear free and shaking off the blood. "That was close." "You handled yourself well," Calwyn said, his tone neutral but sincere. She glanced at him, her golden eyes glinting faintly. "So did you. Better than I expected." Calwyn didn't respond, wiping the mud from his face as he studied the fallen creature. --- The swamp returned to its oppressive quiet as the Swamprowler's lifeless body sank deeper into the muck, its jagged scales catching the faint light filtering through the mist. Calwyn stood still for a moment, his bow lowered but ready, his amber eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of another threat. Vera pulled her spear free with a sharp jerk, shaking off the blood and ichor that clung to its tip. "Well," she muttered, her voice low but steady, "that wasn't quiet." "No, it wasn't," Calwyn replied evenly, crouching to retrieve his spent arrows. He inspected each one, wiping the mud and gore from their shafts. "We should move. The noise will have carried." Vera nodded, stepping back from the corpse. "There's a place up ahead," she said, gesturing with her spear. "If we move quickly, we can make it before nightfall." Calwyn adjusted the strap of his pack, his movements calm and deliberate. "Lead the way." They set off through the swamp, their pace brisk but cautious. The tension from the fight lingered between them, unspoken but heavy. The dense mist curled around their feet as they walked, and the distant calls of swamp creatures gradually returned, filling the silence with their eerie rhythm. "You're not bad with that bow," Vera said after a while, her tone casual. Calwyn glanced at her, his expression neutral. "And you're good with that spear." She smirked faintly but said nothing more, her golden eyes fixed ahead. The exchange was brief, but it carried a quiet acknowledgment of the trust that had formed between them-a bond forged not by words but by survival. ### 4.4. Forgotten markings The swamp began to change subtly as they moved deeper, the trees growing taller and more gnarled, their roots weaving intricate patterns through the muddy ground. Calwyn noticed faint signs of an overgrown path-flattened moss, fragments of stone, and the occasional jagged edge of a wooden marker protruding from the earth. "Someone's been here before," he said, pausing to crouch by one of the markers. He ran his fingers over the rough surface, the grooves of old carvings barely visible beneath the moss. "A long time ago." Vera knelt beside him, her ears twitching as she studied the marker. "Old trade routes," she said. "Or what's left of them. The swamp swallowed most of these long before we were born." They pressed on, the faint trail guiding their steps. The air grew heavier, and Calwyn's senses prickled with unease. It wasn't just the oppressive weight of the swamp-something else lingered, a faint presence that felt both distant and near. He tightened his grip on his bow, his eyes scanning the dense undergrowth. Then, they saw it. Half-hidden by a curtain of vines, a crumbling stone structure rose from the swamp like a forgotten sentinel. Its weathered walls were slick with moss, and its arched entrance gaped like a silent maw. Calwyn slowed, his gaze narrowing as he studied the ruin. "Another outpost?" he asked, his voice low. Vera shook her head, her golden eyes fixed on the structure. "No. This is different." She stepped closer, brushing aside the vines to reveal faint carvings etched into the stone-symbols similar to those Calwyn had seen in his dream of the Primekin ruin. Her hand hovered over the markings, her expression tightening. "Do you know what this is?" Calwyn asked, watching her carefully. Vera hesitated, her claws tracing the edges of a symbol. "Maybe," she said finally, her voice guarded. "But it doesn't matter. We're not staying." Before Calwyn could question her further, she turned sharply, gesturing for him to follow. "Let's go. It's not safe here." Calwyn lingered for a moment, his gaze shifting between the ruin and Vera. There was something in her tone-something strained-but he chose not to press. Instead, he followed her back into the mist, the strange carvings lingering in his mind. --- The second building they encountered was little more than a crumbling shelter, its roof half-collapsed and its walls riddled with gaps where the wood had rotted away. Still, it stood on slightly raised ground, offering a dry reprieve from the endless muck of the swamp. "This'll do," Vera said, leaning her spear against the doorway as she surveyed the space. "It's not much, but it's better than nothing." Calwyn nodded, dropping his pack near a corner. Vera turned to him. "We'll rest here, but not for long. Another half day should get us to the trading post if we pace ourselves." Vera crouched to inspect the floorboards, her claws brushing aside debris. "I'll check the perimeter. Make sure no one else has been here." Calwyn started gathering loose wood for a fire, his movements steady and efficient. In a couple of minutes he got the fire going. "I'll see about finding something fresh to eat." Vera paused, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. "You're going hunting again?" "Better than sitting here waiting for dried meat to magically multiply," he said with a faint smirk, already pulling his bow and arrows from his pack. "Stay here and rest. I won't be long." Vera watched him as he stepped out into the mist, the faint sound of his boots fading quickly into the distance. Something about the way he moved-calm, purposeful, and unhurried-pricked at her instincts. She hesitated, her ears flicking, before grabbing her spear and slipping out after him. ### 4.5. Echoes of the Past She didn't take the pursuit lightly. Calwyn might have seemed like an ordinary human at first glance, but she'd seen enough of his quiet competence to know better. She crouched low, her steps slow and measured, blending into the swamp with practiced ease. Every rustle of a leaf or shift of the mist was accounted for, her presence masked so completely that even she could barely hear her own movements. Ahead, Calwyn slowed, his amber eyes scanning the dense undergrowth. Vera froze behind the gnarled trunk of a tree, her heart steady as she watched him. He crouched suddenly, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. Following his line of sight, she spotted it too-a wild boar, its bristled hide blending with the muddy surroundings. It rooted through the underbrush, its tusks scraping against the bark of a fallen tree. Calwyn moved with care, nocking an arrow and drawing the bowstring in one smooth motion. His focus was absolute, his body still as stone. He aimed just behind the boar's shoulder, where the heart and lungs lay, and released the arrow. It struck true, embedding itself deep into the boar's side. The beast let out a guttural squeal, thrashing and stumbling forward, but it didn't fall. Calwyn didn't hesitate. He nocked another arrow, drawing and releasing it in a seamless motion. The second shot struck the boar in the neck, cutting through a major artery. Blood sprayed onto the swamp floor as the animal staggered again, its legs giving out beneath it. With a final heaving breath, it collapsed into the mud, the life draining from its eyes. Vera remained frozen, her golden eyes wide as she watched Calwyn approach the boar. He moved with purpose, his bow lowered but ready, his posture calm despite the violent scene that had just unfolded. She crept closer, her curiosity overpowering her caution. From her hidden vantage point, she watched as Calwyn knelt beside the boar. Then he did something that made her breath catch.  --- Calwyn knelt beside the wild boar, its massive form still and lifeless against the damp moss. The arrows he had loosed protruded from its side, a testament to the precision of his kill. Setting his bow aside, he reached for his knife, the blade glinting faintly in the filtered light. With a steady hand, he pressed the knife to the base of the boar's neck, ensuring its suffering had ended. The motion was smooth, almost reverent, as though it were part of something greater than the act itself. He bowed his head slightly, his amber eyes half-closed as he spoke, his voice quiet but resolute. "To you, peace. To me, purpose." The words carried a gravity that seemed to still the swamp around him. For a moment, Calwyn remained motionless, his hand resting over the boar's heart as though acknowledging its spirit. Finally, he shifted, his movements careful and deliberate as he began preparing the animal for use. From her hidden vantage point, Vera's ears twitched. Her golden eyes narrowed as she watched him, her chest tightening at the sight. The words he had spoken struck a chord deep within her. They echoed the rituals of her tribe-ceremonies meant to honor the balance between predator and prey, between life taken and life sustained. But Calwyn wasn't wolf-kin. He couldn't have known. And yet... She crouched lower, her claws gripping the bark of a tree as she watched him work. Calwyn moved with practiced efficiency, his knife glinting in the faint light as he skinned the boar with steady hands. He set the hide aside, rolling it carefully to preserve its integrity. The thick, sturdy pelt would make an ideal quiver, and he already had plans forming in his mind as he worked. "Every part has its use," he murmured, more to himself than to the swamp. His voice was calm, almost meditative, as though this was as much ritual as necessity. Vera clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay hidden as she continued to observe him. The scene before her was unsettling-not because of what he was doing, but because of how natural it seemed for him. Calwyn's reverence for the hunt and his methodical approach weren't what she expected from a human. They weren't what she expected from anyone. When he finally finished, Calwyn stood, wiping his hands on a scrap of moss before bundling the meat and tools he had fashioned from the animal. The pelt, carefully folded, was slung over his shoulder, ready to be treated back at the camp. As he picked up his bow and began to make his way back, Vera slipped silently into the shadows, her thoughts churning with questions she wasn't ready to ask. ### 4.6. Shared burdens Calwyn stepped into the clearing, the skinned hide of the wild boar slung over his shoulder, with neatly bundled cuts of meat in his other hand. His movements were steady despite the effort, his expression calm. Vera was crouched by the fire, her spear across her lap, the faint glow of the flames casting flickering shadows on her silver-gray fur. "You took your time," she said, not looking up. "Had to make sure we got the most out of it," Calwyn replied, lowering the meat and hide carefully onto a flat patch of moss. He set his bow aside before rolling his shoulders with a slight sigh. Vera's golden eyes flicked briefly to the meat and then back to him. "Efficient," she muttered, her tone neutral. Calwyn knelt by the fire, sorting through the boar's hide. He worked silently, his hands steady as he trimmed the edges and began shaping the material into the beginnings of a quiver. A sturdy stick served as a spine, and he used the twine from his pack to lash the pieces together. His focus remained sharp, the firelight casting shadows over his features as he tied off the final knots. He tested the structure, pulling lightly on the twine and bending the frame to ensure it would hold. Satisfied, he set the quiver near the fire to dry. In the meantime, the air filled with the rich, savory aroma of roasting meat as Vera skewered chunks onto sticks and placed them over the fire. She kept turning the skewers regularly to ensure even cooking. The fire crackled softly as they ate, the warmth a welcome respite from the damp chill of the swamp. Vera's eyes flicked occasionally toward Calwyn, her expression guarded as she chewed on the roasted meat. "You mentioned soldiers," Calwyn said, breaking the silence. His tone was cautious, almost reluctant. Vera's grip on the stick tightened slightly, her golden eyes fixed on the fire. For a moment, she said nothing, the crackle of the flames filling the quiet. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and tinged with bitterness. "They came for my village a few months ago. Took people... families. Said it was for labor, but we knew better." She paused, her ears flicking back, and her gaze hardened. "My mother was among them. I've been tracking their movements ever since. They move prisoners between camps, using the swamp to cover their trail." Calwyn's brows furrowed, but he didn't interrupt. "I thought I was close," she continued, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. "But those bastards laid a trap-caught me off guard. I'm not some novice; I know how to move unnoticed. But they must've been tracking me for days, waiting for the right moment." Her claws dug lightly into the stick she held, her frustration flickering across her features. "They moved in fast, trying to encircle me. I had no choice but to run before they could close the net. That's how I ended up in that damned mud pit." She huffed, her ears flicking back as she stared into the fire. "I should've seen it coming. Should've been smarter." Her tone carried more anger at herself than at her pursuers, a bitterness that hung heavy in the air. Calwyn watched her for a moment before nodding slowly. "You made it out," he said, his voice calm. "That's what matters." Vera's eyes shifted to him, the firelight reflecting in their golden depths. "For now," she muttered, her grip on the stick loosening slightly. "But I'm not done with them." Calwyn nodded again, sensing she wasn't looking for reassurance. Instead, he returned his focus to the meal, though her words stayed with him, a quiet determination mirrored in his own thoughts. ### 4.7. Fragile peace After eating, Calwyn retrieved the quiver, testing its durability as it dried near the fire. He adjusted the knots and added a few finishing touches, ensuring it would hold the arrows securely. Vera remained by the fire, her posture relaxed but her gaze distant. The memory of what she had witnessed earlier-the words, the ritual-flickered in her mind. It was too familiar, too deliberate to dismiss as coincidence, but she couldn't bring herself to ask him about it. Not yet. "Get some rest," Calwyn said without looking up, his voice calm but firm. "We'll need to move early." Vera huffed softly, her tone gentler this time. "You've done enough for today. You should rest." Calwyn glanced up from the quiver, his amber eyes meeting hers briefly. "Can't help it," he said with a faint smile. "It's in my nature." She tilted her head, her golden eyes flicking over him with a faint curiosity. For a moment, the hard edges of her expression softened. "You're... different," she said quietly, almost as if speaking to herself. "Most people would've left me back there." Calwyn shrugged, turning his attention back to his work. "Didn't seem right." Her gaze lingered on him, her ears twitching slightly as she considered his words. Finally, she leaned back against the log, letting out a soft sigh. "You're strange, Calwyn. But... not in a bad way." His faint smile grew just a little, though he kept his focus on the quiver. "I'll take that as a compliment." The fire crackled softly, filling the silence as the swamp's eerie stillness crept back in. For now, they had found a fragile peace, and in the quiet, something unspoken began to settle between them-uncertain but not unwelcome.