Chapter 4

The air is thick with the scent of damp stone and decay, but as I peer closer, something catches my eye—piles of bones scattered across the pit floor. I hadn’t noticed them before from the ledges above, but now, with the wolf circling below me, the truth becomes horrifically clear. Some of the bones are crushed, others gnawed down to jagged shards. But it’s the skulls that freeze the blood in my veins—human skulls, hollowed out and abandoned like discarded toys.

My stomach churns, the faint hope I had clung to crumbling into dust. This wolf isn’t some misunderstood creature. This is a predator, and it has feasted on more than just beasts. My thoughts spiral, each one darker than the last. How many have fallen into this pit before me? How many thought they could survive?

The growl rumbles through the air again, low and threatening, vibrating through the stone beneath my feet. I tense up, my muscles locking in place as I see the wolf pause, its massive head lifting slightly. It sniffs the air, its nostrils flaring as it turns its head in my direction.

My instincts scream at me, Danger. Danger.

I scramble to my feet, adrenaline flooding my veins as I leap for the ledge I just descended from, my heart pounding so hard I can barely hear my own breath. I don’t look back—I can feel it, the weight of the wolf’s presence rushing toward me like a force of nature. My hands barely grasp the edge of the ledge as I heave myself up, just as the wolf lunges, its massive jaws snapping at the spot where I had been.

The impact shakes the ground as the wolf slams into the stone, its chains rattling and scraping against the floor. I twist around in time to see it sniffing the air again, its nose twitching as it tries to track me. My body is shaking, my chest tight with fear, but one thing is clear now—the wolf is blind.

It relies on its sense of smell.

The knowledge does little to comfort me. I’ve evaded its attack, but that won’t last long. The wolf’s growl deepens, more furious now, and it lunges again—straight at the ledge. I flinch, my heart leaping into my throat as it crashes into the wall, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the stone.

But it can’t reach me.

Not yet.

I freeze, every nerve in my body screaming at me to stay still, to stay quiet. I watch as the wolf lowers its head, sniffing the air again, its ears twitching as it listens for any sound. For a brief moment, I feel a sliver of hope—if I can stay silent, maybe I can wait it out. Maybe it’ll lose interest.

But then, my eyes drift across the pit again, over the bones. And something else catches my eye.

Weapons. Scattered among the remains are rusted blades, broken spears, and twisted shields, all half-buried in the dirt. Some are shattered beyond use, but others... others might still be sharp enough.

I could use them.

The thought sends a surge of something else through me—something that feels like hope, though it’s tinged with desperation. My gaze darts between the wolf and the rusted weapons, calculating. If I can reach one of those weapons, maybe I stand a chance. I can’t outrun it, and I can’t climb out of here, but if I can fight...

The wolf growls again, pacing beneath me, its body tense with anticipation. I watch it sniff the air, tracking my scent, and I know I don’t have much time. Its movements are growing more frantic, more aggressive. It knows I’m here. It can smell me. But if I can distract it—just for a moment—I might be able to slip down and grab one of those weapons.

The pit feels smaller now, the walls closing in as the danger becomes all too real. This isn’t just survival anymore. This is a fight for my life.

I press myself against the stone wall, every nerve in my body screaming for me to stay still. The wolf below paces in a vicious circle, its claws scraping against the stone with a maddening rhythm. It pauses every now and then, sniffing the air, growling with frustration. I can feel its presence like a storm brewing beneath me—primal and unforgiving.

My eyes dart around, desperately searching for something, anything, that might give me an edge. That’s when I noticed the chains, clinking softly as it pulls against them. I trace the chains to the opposite side of the pit, near the gate.

I squint, trying to make out more details. There, just beside the gate, is a metal plate hammered into the stone, anchoring the chains. I can barely see it, but it's there—a solid, unyielding tether. My heart sinks. The chains are long, too long.

Even if I manage to get the key around the wolf’s neck, the beast would reach me before I could unlock the gate. I’d have to run across uneven, rocky ground with a furious, snarling monster on my heels. It’s impossible.

I grit my teeth, frustration and fear welling up inside me. There has to be another way. There has to be. But the realization sinks in—the only way out is through that gate, and the only way to unlock it is with the key around the wolf’s neck.

I’ll have to stop it.

The thought chills me to the core. But how? My eyes dart around the pit again, taking in the scene more carefully this time. Among the bones and weapons, something catches my eye—a glint of metal, rusted but unmistakable.

A spear.

There, half-buried in the dirt and debris, it lay. The wooden shaft is worn and splintered, the metal tip tarnished with age, but it’s something. A chance. It’s not close, but it’s not too far either. I could reach it, if only the wolf were distracted long enough.

I glance back at the wolf, my heart pounding in my chest. It’s still pacing below me. But if I drop down to grab the spear, it’ll hear me. I can already imagine its jaws snapping around my leg before I even have a chance to react.

But then an idea begins to form. It’s risky, it’s desperate, but it might just work.

I look down at my shirt, a ragged, fur-lined garment that’s seen better days. I run my fingers along the edges of the fabric, feeling the rough texture. It’s soaked with my sweat, carrying my scent. I look back at the wolf, watching it closely. Its snout twitches again, sniffing the air. That’s it.

If it thinks I’m somewhere else…

The idea takes root. I don’t need to fight it head-on. I just need to distract it long enough to grab the spear, maybe long enough to find a way to stop it.

Carefully, I begin pulling my shirt over my head, mindful of every movement so as not to lose my balance. The cold air hits my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. The shirt feels heavier in my hands than it should, a burden carrying the weight of my only hope.

I wave the shirt slightly, watching the wolf's reaction. Its head snaps toward the movement, its nostrils flaring as it catches the scent. My heart skips a beat. It’s working.

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I peer over the edge of the ledge, looking toward the gate and the chains tethering the beast. If I can throw the shirt near the gate, the wolf might think I’ve made a run for it. It would chase after the scent, leaving me free to grab the spear. But the distance is sizeable—at least twenty meters across the pit. I’ll have to make the throw count.

My stomach twists with anxiety. What if it doesn’t work? What if the wolf catches on? The thought of the creature turning back towards me, jaws snapping as it lunges at me mid-run, sends a cold wave of fear down my spine. But there’s no other choice.

I glance at the spear again, my mind racing. It’s the best weapon in this scenario. I’ll need to be fast, precise. The plan might be insane, but it’s the only way.

I tighten my grip on the shirt and ready myself, muscles tense as I prepare to throw it. My heart feels like it’s about to explode in my chest, each beat a deafening thud in the silence of the pit. The wolf paces below, still following the movement of my shirt with single-minded focus.

You can do this. You have to do this.

I exhale slowly, steadying my shaking hands. My mind flashes through the plan again, trying to visualize each step. Throw the shirt, grab the spear, and prepare for the fight of my life. My fingers clutch the fabric tightly, and before I can second-guess myself, I hurl the shirt towards the gate, watching it sail through the air, the fur catching what little light there is as it arcs downward.

The wolf’s reaction is immediate. It lunges toward the shirt, its massive body pivoting with surprising speed as it rushes toward the gate, its chains rattling and scraping against the stone.

For a split second, I freeze. The shirt lands near the gate, and the wolf’s attention is locked on it. It snarls, snapping at the ground where the shirt fell, claws scraping across the stone in a frenzy. It worked. It’s focused on the shirt.

My heart is in my throat as I force my legs to move, swinging them over the ledge. I drop down, landing with a jarring thud that sends pain shooting through my legs. I bite back a cry and force myself to move, my eyes locked on the rusted spear. Go, go, go!

The wolf’s chains rattle again, louder this time, and my blood turns to ice. My mind flashes to all the possibilities—the wolf catching on, the chain snapping, the beast turning toward me in a split second. But I push the thoughts away. I have to focus.

I scramble across the pit, my hands reaching for the spear just as the wolf lets out a furious growl, still tearing at the shirt. My fingers wrap around the cold, rusted metal, and I lift it, feeling the weight of it in my hands. It’s heavy, worn, but solid enough. Solid enough to give me a chance.

But now comes the hard part.

I glance at the wolf again, its back still turned, still distracted. I have the spear. I have a plan.

I steady my breath, the adrenaline coursing through my veins like fire. I know I have to act fast. My plan is set: I’ll use the spear's range to my advantage.

I carefully maneuver the spear to my side, making sure it doesn’t slip from my grasp. My hands, slick with sweat, feel the coarse rusted metal, its weight both reassuring and daunting. I glance at the ledge above, the one I had just descended from, and take a deep breath.

I hoist the spear with one hand, aiming carefully, and then fling it onto the ledge. The metal hisses through the air before embedding itself firmly into the stone. It’s a rough throw, but it’s stuck. I’ll need to climb back up, and I need every ounce of strength I can muster.

With a final check to ensure the wolf remains preoccupied, I move. I pull myself up onto the ledge, the rough stone digging into my palms as I scramble upward. My legs strain with every movement, but I push through the pain, driven by the knowledge that the wolf is now turning its attention towards me.

I manage to haul myself up onto the ledge in time, sweat streaming down my face, and I grab the spear again. My heart pounds loudly in my chest as I take a quick look around. The wolf is now sprinting, its claws scraping desperately at the stone as it sniffs the air. It’s closing in on my previous location, growing ever more furious.

I leap from the ledge, landing on a higher ledge that juts out over the pit. The wolf’s furious snarls grow louder, its frustration palpable. I clutch the spear tightly, positioning myself for the strike. I feel a surge of determination. This is my chance.

The wolf’s massive form emerged below me, I take a deep breath, steadying myself as I crouched, the spear poised and ready.

I need to time this perfectly. I aim the spear, focusing on the wolf’s exposed neck, a vulnerable spot despite the chains. The spear’s length gave me a clear advantage. I drew back the spear, preparing to thrust it down.

With a sudden burst of speed, I thrust the spear downward, aiming for the wolf’s neck. The spearhead drove deep into the beast’s fur with a sickening crunch, and the wolf lets out a deafening howl, a mix of pain and rage. It twisted violently, trying to pull away from the spear, nearly pulling me off the ledge but I resisted.

I brace myself, pushing down with all my weight, focusing on the thrust. The wolf thrashed, but the spear is lodged deep, keeping it at bay in a precarious balance. I continue to apply pressure, the metal biting deeper into the flesh. The creature’s growls turn into frantic yelps, I felt its strength waning as it struggles against the pain.

My arms ache from the effort, the splinters embedding themselves into my hands but I maintain my grip, determined to see this through. The wolf’s movements become weaker, its growls fading into pained whimpers.

With a final push, I made sure to drive it in deeper, watching as the beast’s struggles become less frantic. The chains rattle violently, but they hold.

Finally, the wolf collapses to the ground, its breath coming in ragged gasps. It’s subdued, for now. My heart is racing, but a wave of relief washes over me. I’ve managed to stop it, at least temporarily. The key is still within reach, and the gate is just beyond.

I take a moment to catch my breath, the danger not fully past, but for now, I’ve gained the upper hand. The spear is still lodged in the wolf, and I need to move quickly. I glance at the gate and the key, knowing that I have to act before the wolf regains its strength.

I drop down, landing heavily on the pit’s floor, my breathing suppressed. The adrenaline still surged through me, but I forced myself to focus. I glance over at the wolf, its massive body convulsing in the aftermath of my attack. It’s weak, but I know better than to assume it’s finished.

I don’t go for the key right away. I need to make sure the wolf is truly subdued. I sprint toward the pile of bones, my eyes scanning desperately for a weapon. My heart jumped as I see the rusted and dented mace buried among the bones. It’s wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing.

I grip the handle, feeling its rough, cold surface. It’s heavy and unwieldy, but it’ll definitely do the job. I turn and make my way back to the wolf, every step heavy with dread and determination.

I approach the beast cautiously, the mace clutched tightly in my hands. The wolf is lying on its side, struggling weakly. Its head is still moving slightly, and I can see the pain and confusion in its dark, clouded eyes. I can't afford to be merciful; an injured wolf is unpredictable and dangerous.

I need to finish this.

With a deep breath, I lift the mace high, the metal head catching the dim light as I swung down. The first strike lands with a sickening thud against the wolf’s head. Blood splatters across the ground, the wolf lets out a low, pained whimper, its body tensing.

But I didn’t hesitate.

I bring the mace down again, hitting the wolf’s skull with brutal force. The sound of metal against bone echoes through the pit, mingling with the growls and the wet squelch of blood. Each strike is driven by my need for survival.

The wolf’s head jerks with each hit, blood and brain matter splattering against the stone.

It tried to move, its powerful limbs twitching weakly and I can see its eyes, once fierce and determined, now clouding over with pain. It struggled to lift its head, but its efforts are becoming feeble.

My mace connects again and again.

Soon I’m drenched in sweat and blood, my hands slipping on the handle of the mace. But I keep swinging, my breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. The wolf’s growls no more, its movements stiff.

Until finally, the wolf’s head collapsed inward against the stone ground.

I step back, panting heavily, the mace still in my hands. The pit is silent now, save for the sound of my labored breathing and the howl of the wind. The wolf’s remains were in stark contrast to the piles of old bones and rusted weapons.

I stand there for a moment, catching my breath and letting the weight of what I’ve just done settle over me. The mace is coated in blood and gore yet I need to act quickly. With the wolf now subdued, I turn my attention to the key around its neck and the gate beyond.

I approach the wolf cautiously, my steps slow and deliberate. The key glints faintly against the beast’s fur, and I know that it’s my ticket out of this pit. I reach for the key, carefully unfastening it from the chain around the wolf’s neck. My fingers tremble slightly as I pull it free, the metal cold against my skin.

With the key now in hand, I turn to the gate, feeling a mixture of relief and exhaustion. The hardest part is over, but the escape is still ahead. I make my way toward the gate, my movements cautious but determined. The gate’s lock looks old and rusted, but the key should fit.

I insert the key into the lock, my heart pounding as I turn it. The mechanism clicks and groans as it gives way, and the gate creaks open.

I’ve made it.

I step through the gate, my muscles aching, my mind a whirl of relief and adrenaline. I glance back one last time, making sure the wolf remains still, before moving forward into whatever awaited beyond.