The forest seemed to part for them as they moved amongst the trees. The thick undergrowth, brown and dormant in winter preparation, proved no obstacle for their powerful paws and thorny claws. They found the bear’s form much easier and less exposing to move in.

They had spent the rest of that night absorbing the bear’s substance with their invasive, whisker-thin roots. Finding the boost to their power pleasurable in various ways. Afterward, they were able to take on its form as well, as if absorbing its mana had unlocked something hidden within themselves, something that they were currently hunting for deep within the forest.

However, they were having a difficult time.

With the form of the two-legged creature, they were small and vulnerable. Although using two limbs to manipulate tools was advantageous in its way, the lack of defenses or the strength to attack on its own made that form less than desirable. On the other hand, the bear’s form was strong and deadly, an apex predator that could challenge almost anything inside the forest. That was the problem.

Everything was terrified of them, and ran away before they could come close.

They had only managed to secure one other form over the last several days, another four-legged animal that hunted in a pack of half a dozen. The pack had surrounded them as they explored a shallow pond resting at the bottom of a small valley, pouncing on them just as they exited the water.

The packs’ many teeth and claws snapped and tore at their massive form, to little effect. It wasn’t that their attacks were unharmful; chunks of vines and roots and greenery had been torn off during the assault; it was just that there was so much there, surrounding their core, that nothing the wolves did could have harmed them.

It was a massacre.

The wolves provided them with a great deal of sustenance for their core, bringing them one drop closer to filling the vast reservoir of their lost power. It would take many years of hunting and absorbing other creatures for them to regain a fraction of their previous strength, a task they were uncertain was worth the effort. There was a much easier way for them to regain their lost magic. They only needed to find a world vein.

But for now, they were content with exploring this vast forest and the life held within it. They were in no hurry.

“Do you think Vic will let us?” A whisper of a voice carried on the autumn breeze, along with the faint scent of unwashed bodies and ash, drawing their attention away from the chirping birds roosting above them on a half-broken limb.

They turned their head toward the voice, their leafy ears perking up to catch any sounds that might meander by.

“He’d better,” another voice replied, the volume increasing slightly as whatever it was moved closer to them. “He owes us, and that bastard hasn’t paid us since we left Bolin.”

“Are you gonna bring it up then?” The first voice asked, the scent growing stronger along with the sound.

The vines and other greenery that made up their body started to slither and constrict, reforming them into something much smaller and filling the area around them with the sounds of groaning wood and cracking branches. They knew that the sound could very well give them away, but the smaller form of the wolf was much easier to conceal between the trees, so thought it was a necessary risk.

Surprisingly, the two voices continued to prattle on, oblivious to the happenings around them.

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“I might,” the second voice replied, the tone not nearly as confident as their words. “He’s been soft as of late, won’t even raid the shitty farms further south, ever since that bitch popped out his mewling brat!”

The last words held an edge of anger to them, enough that their meaning was clear even though they didn’t understand the words. They slowly retreated into a nearby bramble as the two creatures noisily tromped through the forest. The men looked much the same as the one that had awoken him, their outerwear a mixture of animal hair and skin, treated in such a way as to make it much more resilient than it originally was.

They both had greasy, unkempt black hair, with one boasting even more hair that fell from their face to cover the front of their neck. A wicked tooth made of metal hung from their hips, with a smaller one tucked away on the opposite side. The men continued past them, talking all the while about inane things that made no sense to the sylvan wolf slowly following them through the forest.

Their paw steps padded along the forest floor without sound, narrowly avoiding the dried detritus that would have given them away. They had fallen behind the two men so far that the many trees broke their line of sight, but the pungent scent of unwashed bodies and dried blood blazed a trail that they easily followed.

The autumn sun hung heavy in the sky; hazy reds and pinks set the horizon ablaze as wispy clouds accompanied the many birds flitting through the air on their way to their nests to roost for the night. Although the two men had made their presence known to all the forest during their trek, many of the animals paid no heed, going about their business and only sparing an eye for them as they passed. On the other hand, the wolf of wood and vines was fully devoted to tracking the two men, ignoring everything else.

They were immensely curious about the two-legged creatures. The men and their kind were unlike anything they had come across before. The life that filled the world so many years ago was primitive, with no signs of intelligence or higher thought; the many species of beasts did nothing more than what was necessary to survive. That wasn’t to say they resented the task they were created to undertake, nor the charges they were meant to guide, but other than the occasional meeting between them and another of their kind, the world had been exceedingly boring.

Before the devils invaded the world, it wasn’t uncommon for them to lay in a half-dormant state for decades, letting the flow of time wash over them like an endless waterfall, beating down everything else around them. Now, they were free, free to follow whatever whims caught their attention at any given moment. The world and the life that walked it looked to be prospering like never before, all without their guiding hand, giving them no purpose but what they make for themselves.

It was something both frightening and exhilarating.

A new scent started to nibble on the edges of the men’s own. It held an acrid tinge that hinted at burning wood and smoldering ash. The men must have smelled it as well as they deviated their course through the trees, heading toward the far-off fire. Feeling the change in the air, they moved quickly and silently, the men coming back into view after only a few short minutes.

Their constant chatter had quieted into silence, and their pace had slowed considerably. It was almost as if they were hesitant to continue forward. If the men felt any danger in what lay ahead, their weapons should have been taken from their hips in preparation. Instead, they marched forward with heads hung low, like beaten dogs returning to their master.

Just as the last rays of light disappeared between the barren trees, the two men and their unseen follower came upon an open clearing and the camp within. Many tents, no better than tattered canvas over crooked sticks, dotted the narrow clearing with small, lambent fires accompanying each one. Between the frayed tents and ravenous fires was nothing but beaten and neglected mud trails, churned into frothy walkways over many weeks and countless boots.

Many of the boots, filled with their owners' feet, warmed themselves by the fires, over two dozen men eating and drinking and fighting amongst themselves without concern for anything else happening around them. That could have been because of the few other men walking the border of their camp, cursing to themselves as they looked back at the others with envious eyes.

They stopped short of the clearing, resting on their haunches as they watched the two men saunter into the filthy camp. They sat quietly, only the emerald light of their eyes moving as they watched. As the chill of the autumn night invaded the camp, the men fought back with raucous cajoling, using the free-flowing liquor and other bitter spirits to warm themselves where the small fires failed to do so. They did this for hours on end, and only when the last man had retreated into their tents did the wolf move.