I lay on my back, staring at the night sky dotted with stars. Still dazed, my mind wandered slowly—not just from the effects of the herbs, but from the surreal chain of events that had brought me here. My body remained motionless; my arms and legs still refused to obey, but at least my stomach was full. For the first time since entering this forest, I felt satisfied—though at the cost of a pride that seemed more wounded than any bone in my body.

The words of the white wolf echoed in my mind, bringing back the sting of humiliation.

"Pup, your body isn't ready to digest anything solid. Until you regain your strength, I will continue to nurse you."

I let out a heavy sigh. Why was I dumb enough to eat those berries? I thought, frustration swirling endlessly.

‘Now I’m stuck being nursed until… who knows when.’

A soft sound pulled me out of my thoughts.

Sniff… sniff.

Something small was approaching, and as I tilted my head slightly, I saw a wolf pup. It was sniffing at me curiously, though it quickly stumbled, looking a little dizzy. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

The little pup recovered quickly and came closer again. With clumsy movements, it climbed onto my chest, licking my face before curling up as if it had found the perfect spot to rest.

My eyes studied it more carefully, and the realization hit me almost instantly:

‘Wait… this is the pup that was running from the bear!’

I recognized it easily among the other pups in the pack. Its golden eyes gleamed like the leader’s, and its black fur, streaked with gray, reminded me of the wolf who had been taking care of me. Dr. Wolf, I decided to call him—a name that felt oddly fitting.

The pup, now with a full belly, settled comfortably on my chest, its breathing soft and rhythmic. I couldn’t stop my smile from widening.

‘At least… this isn’t so bad.’

----------------------------------------

By morning—or what I assumed was morning, since the sun hadn’t yet reached its peak—I was awakened by strange noises. Something was being dragged, a rhythmic sound of weight scraping against the ground. My eyes opened slowly, still heavy from the exhaustion that clung to me.

The first thing I noticed was the wolf pup, still nestled on my chest, its calm, steady breaths mirroring the serenity of someone who felt completely safe.

‘This little guy really thinks I’m his bed, I thought with a faint smile.’

I turned my head toward the sound and saw two wolves dragging a massive carcass into the clearing. It was a bear. Its dark brown fur looked even denser under the filtered light breaking through the trees. The claws on its paws were long and sharp, a grim reminder of the damage they could inflict. But what truly caught my attention was the gaping wound on its neck. It seemed the bear had been caught off guard, killed with a single bite that tore a significant chunk of flesh away.

‘So, it’s him’, I thought, recognizing it as the creature that had almost ended me. The sight of its claws and enormous body should have stirred some emotion—fear, relief, maybe even vengeance—but all I felt was an odd calm. I exhaled softly, a single thought crossing my mind:

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

‘I guess those wings really were just my imagination.’

The wolves positioned the carcass near the center of the clearing and began tearing into it with methodical precision. Their teeth ripped through the flesh with efficiency, pulling off chunks that disappeared swiftly into their mouths. It was a gory and visceral scene, one that should have repulsed me, but instead, I found myself watching with a strange sense of tranquility.

‘It’s strange’, I mused, my eyes fixed on the wolves at work.

‘I should feel uncomfortable, even disgusted. But… I don’t feel anything.’

There was no revulsion at what I saw, no lingering anger at the bear that had nearly killed me. Just a quiet acceptance of it all.

“Ah, I see you’re awake, pup,” the voice of the white wolf echoed in my mind once again, carrying a serenity that contrasted with the rawness of the scene unfolding before me. A shiver ran down my spine, an involuntary reaction tied to the memories of the previous day.

‘Great… is it breakfast time already?’ I thought, a mix of resignation and dry humor tugging a brief sigh from my chest. But before I could dwell on the thought, I decided to shake off my wandering mind and focus on what truly mattered.

“I didn’t get the chance to thank you before, but… thank you,” I said aloud, my voice laden with genuine gratitude. It was a heartfelt expression, despite the lingering awkwardness of my situation.

“No, it’s we… I, who should thank you,” the wolf responded, her calm voice resonating in my thoughts like a gentle yet firm melody.

“But I didn’t do anything to deserve your gratitude or your help,” I countered, my mind turning over the events, searching for something to justify her words.

Before I could think further, the pup curled up on my chest stirred. Its small body wriggled, and it sniffled slightly, its wet nose twitching and its eyes glassy with what seemed like mild irritation. But as soon as it noticed the white wolf’s presence, it wobbled to its feet and began making its way toward her. Its little body swayed with unsteady balance, but it moved with determination.

“No, you’ve done much for us,” the wolf continued, her gaze softening as it shifted to the pup.

“After all, you saved this little one here.”

My mind worked to piece it all together, but before I could ask anything else, she continued, “And it was him who asked for you to be saved. Of course,” she added, her voice taking on a firm yet maternal tone.

“I would have done so even if he hadn’t asked.”

‘Ah’, I thought, the simplicity of her revelation hitting me like a gentle yet unexpected blow. That pup, who I’d already found remarkable, now carried a whole new significance. He wasn’t just brave—he had literally asked for my salvation. The realization shifted something within me, reshaping how I viewed everything.

“By the way,” I began, curiosity overriding my exhaustion, “there’s something that’s been bothering me… how am I able to communicate with you?”

The wolf held my gaze for a moment, her golden eyes calm and almost unnervingly composed, as if weighing how best to explain.

“It’s because I transmit my intentions directly to your spirit,” she said finally, her voice resonating with a clarity that stood in stark contrast to the complexity of her words.

“Directly to my spirit?” I repeated, puzzled. The idea was foreign, even for Alexander, whose vast knowledge spanned everything from basic magic to obscure texts on spiritual beings. To him, the spirit was something vague and intangible—more closely tied to nature spirits than anything concrete.

“Humans, elves, dwarves, and many others communicate using what they call languages,” the wolf explained, her voice steady, flowing like a calm river.

“But contrary to what most believe, animals, beasts, monsters, and even demons have their own forms of communication. What prevents us from understanding one another are the barriers of the physical realm. However, in the realm of the mind and spirit, there are no words—only ideas, concepts, and intentions. What I do is communicate directly with your spirit, bypassing those barriers entirely.”

“So… you’re essentially skipping the words and going straight to the meaning,” I murmured, trying to wrap my head around it.

“But… isn’t that supposed to be impossible? Even beast tamers have to establish a formal contract to enable that kind of communication…” My thoughts spiraled, combing through Alexander’s fragmented knowledge, analyzing and cross-referencing. “Unless…”

“Yes,” she interrupted, her voice firm and definitive. “I am a pureblood magical beast.”