Ike sat at the edge of the waterfall, reading Orin’s guide for a bit. At last, he stood, brushing off his pants. Bustling around the edge of the waterfall, he set up his camp for the night. He put the side of the tent to the Abyss wall and the back to the dropoff, cutting off two ways the wolf might approach him. Looking at the tent, he nodded, then set off into the forest. Using the ruined sword, he hacked down little trees, then used his razor to whittle their ends to points. Those he planted in the ground along the broadside of his tent. He set them in the ground at a forty-five degree angle so their pointed ends stuck out away from the tent.

Ike stepped back, surveying his work. He brushed one of the angled sticks, and it nearly toppled. Clicking his tongue, he knelt to dig it in deeper. With only his primitive tools, he didn’t want to waste the time and effort to set the sticks deep enough to actually be a threat, let alone a defense, but that wasn’t the point. Dogs balked at strange things. Something like a wall of spikes should be more than enough to get the wolf’s primitive brain to hesitate.

And if it isn’t… I’ll have a lot of stitching ahead of me to fix the tent.

Moving away from the sharpened sticks, he wandered through the undergrowth, gathering up dried twigs and leaves. Kicking his way through the brambles, he returned to his campsite. He walked around the tent, scattering the twigs and leaves in the undergrowth, where they wouldn’t be seen, but would be heard. The side of the tent up against the wall and the drop didn’t need twigs. Ike peered over the edge of the waterfall. The slate stone clunked together in loose piles down the wall, noisier than his leaves and twigs would be. If the wolf approached by climbing the waterfalls, he’d hear it slip on the loose stones. As for the wall… Ike snorted under his breath. If it comes at me from that direction, I’m fucked. But if it’s smart enough to do that, I’m probably fucked anyways.

I can’t ignore the possibility that it’s as smart as Silver. Or at least somewhere on that scale. If it is… Ike stood, dusting off his hands. He gazed out into the Abyss, into the tangled mess of trees and mist. If it is that smart, then maybe I gain something more valuable than a skill tonight.

With all his traps set up, the wolf would only have one option: dead ahead, into the front of the tent. There, Ike set up his final trap. This one took the most time and effort of all his traps, but it was the most crucial piece. The only part that mattered.

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All that’s left is to wait for night.

With the help of Orin’s guide, Ike foraged a handful of roots, fruits, and vegetables. It wasn’t enough to fill up, but supplemented with his wolf jerky, it was enough to fill his stomach. The sun was low, the day winding down. He packed up his gear and kicked some ashes over the fire, retiring to his tent.

Rosamund looked up as he entered, perched atop his bag as usual. As he settled down to sleep, her eyes flared, and a vicious grin crossed her face.

“Wake up, you peasant! How dare you sleep with me so close to—”

Ike cracked open an eye. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his old, filthy shirt and stuffed it into Rosamund’s mouth. An aghast look crossed her face, and she tried to spit it out, but he quickly tied it in place. He shook his head at her disappointedly. “I don’t want to do this, you know? You made me do this.”

Her face twisted. Her jaw worked, and muffled sound came from behind the gag, but it was stifled enough Ike could ignore it. It was almost comforting to fall asleep to the muffled sound of someone else screaming. Just like the villa. Ike unwound, able to fully relax for the first time in a long time, and snoozed away.

Day passed to night. Sometime around midnight, Ike woke up. Nothing crinkled, nor did any wolf howl. He’d simply gone to sleep so early that he was wide awake now.

He drew his good sword from under his pillow and waited, crouched in the tent. Rosamund laid quietly in the corner, her eyes shut. A cold wind blew. Outside, clouds scudded across the moon. The half-moon lit the scene in pale silver light, just bright enough for Ike to see. The low undergrowth rustled, as if alive. White mist swirled in the vines and curled through the dark leaves.

He waited. The moon traveled across the sky. The leaves danced. His eyes darted left to right, scanning the scene from behind the flaps of his tent.

Crunch.

Ike tensed. He searched the dark undergrowth more ferociously than ever, but made nothing out. Still too far. Still hidden. I have to—

Abruptly, he caught sight of a pair of pale eyes, hovering like moons in the undergrowth. The wolf stepped forward, emerging from the mist as though it had been formed from it. Head low, all but scraping over the vines, the wolf stalked forward, eyeing Ike’s tent.

Hidden in the shadows, behind the tent’s loose-hanging flaps, Ike watched the wolf. The two of them watched one another, waiting, calculating. The hairs on the back of Ike’s neck stood up.

It knows that I’m a threat, and it’s trying to figure out what I did. It might not be as smart as Silver, but it’s damned smart.

Abruptly, the wolf leaped forward. Ike’s eyes widened. He held his breath, freezing where he crouched. Come on! Go for it!