Chapter 15: After The Silence
Both monsters were dead.
The giant worm lay motionless in the snow, its massive body torn open from the battle, steam slowly rising from its frozen guts. The snow around it was stained black and red, melted from its heat.
Not far away, the eyeless wolf rested in a pool of its own dark blood, its enormous claws still buried in the snow where it fell, its blind face frozen in a snarl.
For the first time since the caravan had been attacked, there was silence.
Only the sound of heavy breathing remained.
Danny sat in the snow, his small body shaking, trying to catch his breath. His chains were covered in frozen blood - some his, some not. His knees were pulled up to his chest.
Across from him sat the thin prisoner.
The grey-haired man was nearby, leaning against what remained of the broken caravan, his back against the splintered wood. Blood ran down his arm from a deep wound where the wolf had cut him. He pressed his other hand hard against it, trying to stop the bleeding, his face pale.
For several moments, none of them spoke.
They simply sat there.
Alive.
Somehow, they were alive out of twelve.
The thin prisoner suddenly let out a small, short laugh. It sounded wrong in the quiet.
"You really did it, kid. For a kid."
Danny looked at him.
The man was smiling. A wide, thin smile.
Something about that smile made Danny uneasy. A cold feeling in his stomach.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Who is this bastard?
Only a short while ago, this same man had been willing to leave him behind. He had grabbed Danny’s arm and tried to push him into the worm’s mouth to save himself. He had told Danny to be bait for the wolf.
And now he was smiling at him like they were friends. Like they had survived together.
You tried to kill me.
Danny looked away quickly, down at the snow. He didn’t trust him. Not even a little. A man who smiles after trying to kill you is more dangerous than a man who shouts.
The grey-haired man slowly lifted his head and looked at Danny. His eyes were tired, old, but there was something different in his expression now.
Respect. And confusion.
"Nice plan, kid. The chain."
Danny looked at him, then quickly looked away again.
The man’s face was tired, sweat mixing with blood, but he was nodding slightly.
"If not for you," the grey-haired man continued, his voice hoarse, "we’d all be dead. That wolf would have torn my throat out."
Danny said nothing.
He lowered his head and stared at the snow beneath his cracked boots. He didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t feel like a hero.
He hadn’t done it to save them.
He had done it because he didn’t want to die. Because if the grey-haired man died, the wolf would come for him next. That was all. It was simple math.
The grey-haired man looked at him for a few seconds before his gaze moved toward the dead eyeless wolf, then toward the dark line of trees beyond.
"We’re lucky," he said quietly.
The thin prisoner snorted, his fake smile gone instantly.
"Lucky?" His voice turned sharp. He looked around at the destroyed caravan, at the bodies half-buried in snow nearby that they weren’t looking at directly. "Half the group is dead. The horses are dead. Our supplies are scattered everywhere. The Awakened is dead too."
He kicked the snow.
"If this is luck, I don’t want to know what bad luck looks like. We’re in the middle of nowhere, with no food, and two of those things dead here means more are out there!"
The grey-haired man didn’t respond to him. He just kept pressing his wound.
Danny slowly looked around too, following the thin prisoner’s words.
The forest was still. Too still. No birds. No wind in the branches. Just white snow and black trees that went on and on.
The dead monsters were proof that something far more dangerous than bandits lived in these woods. Something that had no reason to be this close to the normal road.
And if one eyeless wolf had found the caravan’s blood...
There could be more. A pack.
The thought made his stomach tighten, worse than hunger.
Danny pulled his knees even closer to his body. He was exhausted. Hungry. Cold deep in his bones. His tribal marks on his arms, just normal black arrows, were itching from dried blood and sweat.
But he was alive.
For now, that was enough.
The grey-haired man suddenly tried to stand, planting his good hand on the caravan. His injured arm trembled badly. He gritted his teeth, a low growl of pain escaping, and forced himself upright, swaying slightly.
"We can’t stay here."
The thin prisoner frowned, still sitting. "Why? The caravan has wood. We can make a fire. The monsters are dead."
The grey-haired man looked toward the dark forest, toward where the wind came from. His face was grim.
"Because this place isn’t safe. Blood in the snow calls things. Two dead monsters is a dinner bell. By nightfall, everything in this forest will come to see what killed them."
Danny followed his gaze into the dark between the trees. He remembered the way the eyeless wolf had moved, as if it knew these woods.
If one of them had found the caravan so fast after the worm died...
There could be more. Or worse.
The thin prisoner went pale and finally stood up too, scrambling.
The grey-haired man took a slow breath, looking at the two of them - one old and wounded, one thin and cowardly, one small boy with chains.
"We need to figure out what we’re going to do next. We have maybe two hours of light."
The three survivors remained silent, snow falling softly on the dead monsters around them.
None of them knew what waited beyond the trees, beyond the blood.
But one thing was certain.
Their journey had changed.
They were no longer prisoners traveling toward a destination, counting days.
They were survivors trapped in a frozen forest that wanted them dead.
And surviving the next day would be their biggest problem.