Hopping from branch to branch effortlessly, the lithe figure produced little sound as she pounced and if one were to witness this feat, they would liken her movements to a feline. This is surely to be expected, considering her heritage and her features, that were... quite insightful if one wished to harbour a guess at her race. They may also note, however, that her grace seemed a little too precise, a little too confident, if all that ran through her blood was what they saw at first glance, that of the feline variant of beastkin.

Her tail moved tirelessly as she sprang between the trees, keeping her balance perfect, wasting no movement, and assuring that she never fell or even stumbled. This was of grave importance, as her ears twitched and she groaned inwardly.

 Seriously? They still remain on my tail, uh, trail? Bloody persistent lot these damn wolves are... Must be rather starving for em to bother chasing someone with as little meat on their bones as me...

It was not particularly strange, really. Larger packs of monsters, such as these, would pop up, devour everything in their area, then quickly find that their short sightedness came back to bite them on the ass. Sometimes literally, in the form of their comrades, turning to cannibalism. Thus, their persistence was caused by a lack of other food sources, and they must have not yet turned to such horrors.

Some may consider the term ‘cannibalism’ to be used a little liberally here. They were monsters after all. Most would just see this as generic monster activity. Well, most who even bothered to know anything about what monsters did besides how they tried to kill you, at least. Hell, the only reason she knew was due to first-hand accounts. Once you survive out here for so long, you sometimes just...see things. Things that you wish you could forget.

A few more hops later, still sensing the Aes Wolves on my tail, I begin to slow down. Its troublesome, but it seems I will have to wait them out. Obviously, the wolves are incapable of scaling trees, but they prove to be annoyingly patient when stalking or tormenting their prey. I have little food left which, perhaps, they are able to sense. The creatures around here are known to show intelligence higher than should be possible, or is recorded elsewhere, in the rest of the known world. How they still fail to notice that they cause their own starvation is quite beyond me.

It doesn’t take long to find a suitably thick and sturdy branch; all the trees in this area seem to be incredibly durable, likely a result of soaking up the ambient mana for a thousand years. I come to a stop on the branch, crouching on it, ready to pounce again if my surroundings up here prove dangerous. Not all predators are incapable of catching their prey if they scurry up trees, even if I am certain that these wolves cannot do so.

Quickly catching up to me, I finally get a good look at the predators that made me into temporary prey. Bronze is the first word I think of when they come into view, and begin circling my tree, growling and drooling. Their fur appears to be thick, matted bronze, and what I can see of their teeth looks to be a shiny metallic orange, though the shininess may just be due to their saliva. Which isn’t a comforting thought, thinking of it.

I choose to glare down at them for a few, long minutes, keeping one hand on my rapier at my side, the other holding onto the branch that I remain firmly crouched on. Most of my concentration is on willing myself to hold precisely, perfectly still. I manoeuvre the wind to push against me from all sides, not too hard, just softly, assisting me in this precarious position. It’s something I have practiced since I was young; the air responds quite well to my musings and frankly, I enjoy encouraging the wind to aid me.

A few, long minutes later, after my practice session to graduate to a statue for some arrogant noble, I begin to relax, seeing the wolves settle down, not even bothering to try to jump for me. I close my eyes for a moment, my mind flicking back to books I’ve read, bestiaries I’ve etched into my memory.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Aes Wolves… Intelligence Rank 3? Hmm…

I recall a note in a bestiary I once read, the only one to document these beasts, that stated they have only been found in this very forest, and that their unusually high Intelligence Rank (or IR) was attributed to all the other peculiarities found here. The widely accepted theory is that the high ambient mana is the cause of many irregularities that occur here. However, I am of the opinion that this is simply a side effect. Mana still has to come from somewhere, after all.

I may have to cut my self-indulged research mission short if it truly is this dangerous. I won’t lose anything by leaving, and I’ll be making sure I live to see another day…

Just as I think about leaving, fate twists, spits in my face and says otherwise. The wind alerts me to two small presences at the edge of my vision and when I look their way, a whole repertoire of curses appears in my mind, but I keep them to myself, for the benefit of my own survival. The flickering presences make their way over, slowly, clearly magical in nature and inherently dangerous, but I don’t dare ask the wind to keep them at bay, for I would forfeit my life in doing so.

What do the fucking fae want with me at a time like this?! Why are they even in this hells-damned forest?!

I knew the answer to both those questions of course. Both of them related to me, or my current predicament, or both, and I had the feeling that I would be subject to another form of torment very shortly.

Unfortunately, before the accursed things get to play with me, the fae disappear from sight in sudden panic, and I am immediately on alert, looking and listening intently for some new predator that scares even a faerie away. Which is how I notice it.

The mana is gone?! The wind has fled too?!

My senses go into overdrive, trying to find what could cause such a disturbance. Never in my 53 years of living have I ever experienced or heard of this. Mana should be present in every corner of the world! Sure, it sometimes drops slightly if an Archmage casts a level 10 spell, but for it to disappear entirely? The wind too? This should obviously be impossible, but I am forced to accept this horrible reality as I hear the wolves growling at me from below.

Then, just as suddenly as it left, the mana and wind both come rushing back, with immense force. I am hurled off my perch violently, smashing through another branch and then, by the grace of my lineage, land on all fours, albeit quite unceremoniously, a fair distance away. I snarl as I get up, angered at the pain in my left arm screaming at me that it is dislocated. No magic for me, I guess!

Coming to my senses, I instantly draw my rapier (a new one, because the guards have a habit of ‘requisitioning’ the weapons of beastfolk) in preparation for the wolves to attack, even attempting to ready a spell in my left hand instinctively, which turns out to be a terrific mistake, as pain wracks the left side of my body for several seconds, causing me to cry out in pain. Idiot.

Only after I get myself under control again mere moments later do I realise that I am, in fact, not under attack. Nor is there any noise; the wolves may aswell not exist to my ears. My eyes tell a rather different story, however, as I stare at the wolves, frozen, still in mid growl.

Not frozen like ice is. It’s as if someone cast a very localised Time Stop spell, but I sense no magic at play here. They do not appear to be breathing, yet there they stand, as still as gargoyles, looking up at my previous perch.

Everything is eerily quiet.

The silence screams at me, threatening to deafen me.

Then something appears.

I watch, caught in paralysis myself, as a small purple sphere appears above the wolves and yet again, the impossible happens.

The amount of mana in that thing! That goes far beyond a level 10 spell! A classification for this doesn’t even exist!

I don’t blink, no, I can’t blink as my brain is fried trying to comprehend the spell. It starts to expand, crackling, purple bolts of electricity appearing and disappearing hundreds of times a second. I know not how much time passes. But the purple-black electrical void eventually stops growing, now half as big as the tree I was on. The wolves may have been swallowed by it; I can no longer see them.

Seconds after the impossible finishes its expansion, it emits a huge shock wave of mana and I am once again blasted backwards, unable to even think about landing correctly, sustaining several injuries in the process. I sense several deep cuts from splinters and branches on my legs, but I care not. I care only to look into the impossible.

It almost seems to look back.

Then a woman comes through it and face-plants the ground.