Resolved in my decision, I whipped the reins of Bernard's horse and set off towards the mountain pass; the last known location where Audrey and her brother had spotted the barbarian horde. As I rode, my mind was plagued with concerns about Lysander's fate. The gnawing fear that he might have been captured by the barbarians was almost overwhelming.

I was aware of my limitations compared to the brutal nature of the barbarians. The thought that I might not be able to match their strength in a confrontation was daunting. Yet, the responsibility to try and find Lysander, to exhaust every possibility, propelled me forward.

Despite the risks and my apprehensions about facing the barbarians, the necessity to at least attempt to find Lysander outweighed the fear.

Bernard knew the plan, and I knew he would lead the townspeople to the safety of the caves. They would find a temporary refuge there, a chance to rest and gather their strength for the journey ahead. Even if I didn't make it back, I had confidence in Bernard's ability to keep the people safe from the barbarian horde.

I spotted a blood stain on the ground. At first glance, it appeared to be the trail of a wounded animal, perhaps escaping from a predator. But as I inspected the bushes more closely, the truth of the scene unfolded in a much more startling manner.

It wasn't an animal that lay there, but a man - a barbarian, to be precise. He was lifeless, evidently having succumbed to an attack by a wild animal. The nature of his wound was peculiar and unnerving; the size of the bite was unusually large; unlike anything I had seen before.

The barbarian's death was strange - it wasn't just the size of the wound that was puzzling, but also the circumstances surrounding the way he died.

I looked around the surroundings more closely, and the snow-covered ground revealed intriguing clues. Another six different sets of footprints were imprinted in the snow. This barbarian was not alone; he was part of a group.

The trail of footprints led me further into the forest. Soon, I came upon another body, mirroring the fate of the first. This second barbarian had succumbed to a wound similar to the first corpse –a large bite, the reason why this man, bled to death.

As with the first barbarian, the weapons of this man were still secured in his leather belt, untouched. It suggested that the attacks were sudden, that these warriors didn't have the opportunity to draw their weapons to defend themselves.

Lysander, and his ability to transform into a wolf, could have some involvement with these deaths. The thought crossed my mind, but it was a possibility I was reluctant to entertain. Despite his capabilities, the idea of him killing these men seemed out of character.

Looking up at the trees I've noticed a pattern of scratches on the bark. Whatever had attacked these barbarians wasn't just a ground predator; it used the trees, swinging or moving through them to hunt its prey.

Then, I find myself confronted by a grotesque sight. There in the snow lay a footprint of a wolf, but it was unlike any I had seen before. It was enormous, approximately the size of the palm of my hand. This indicated a creature far larger than any ordinary wolf – possibly five times larger based on my assessment of the print.

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But it didn't make any sense. I could only see one pair of the wolf's prints on the ground. If such a large wolf were responsible for the attacks, why were there no other prints?

Approaching the barbarian encampment, the scene that unfolded was one of complete desolation. The camp appeared abandoned and unguarded. The campfire, still smoldering, had pots left as if in a hurry. The tents were torn apart, their fabric shredded as if by a ferocious force. Inside them, the sight was even more harrowing – numerous barbarians lay lifeless, their bodies bearing the marks of a brutal assault.

This scene of devastation was like something out of a nightmare. It suggested a sudden, fierce assault, one that the barbarians were unprepared for. The scale of destruction and the number of casualties indicated that this couldn't be the work of a single creature, even one as large as the wolf whose print I had discovered.

As I cautiously approached the scene, one of the bodies began to stir. The man grunted and screamed; his voice laced with the agony of his mortal wounds as if reliving the moment of his attack. Without hesitation, I rushed to his aid, carefully propping him up against a fallen tree trunk to offer some support.

"Hey! Can you hear me."

His eyes opened wide, filled with terror and agony. " It's here, it's here!"

"Calm down!"

I moved him a bit more, noticing his hands began to tremble. The full moon cast its bright glow over us, illuminating the scene with an ethereal light. The man's eyes were drawn to the moon, fixating on it even as he winced from his wounds.

"The demon wolf, it's here." The wounded man said.

The injured barbarian's body convulsed, his human features grotesquely twisting as he underwent a metamorphosis. Bones snapped and realigned with horrifying sounds, and his skin was rapidly covered by a thick mantle of grey fur. In a matter of moments, the man was no longer a man, but a wolf – a ferocious creature just like Lysander.

Quickly, I stepped back and turned around, running towards my horse, making my way back to town as fast as I could. The encounter had shaken me to the core; seeing another man transform into a wolf like Lysander and Audrey's brother, was more common than I had imagined.

As I made my frantic run back to town, a quick glance over my shoulder revealed a terrifying sight – the wolf was in pursuit, closing the gap between us with a speed that seemed supernatural. As I neared the entrance, I spotted Phillip, the lone archer who had stayed behind guarding the gate. He was poised and ready, his arrow nocked and drawn, aimed at the approaching wolf.

With no hesitation, he released his arrow, striking the wolf in the chest with a shot that was clearly debilitating. The wolf, wounded mortally, staggered, then managed to stand and retreat into the forest, disappearing into the darkness.

Reaching the gate, I was met by Phillip, who quickly operated the lever to allow me entry.

Phillip approached my horse, helping me unmount. "Bernard had mentioned you were going to find your brother. I told him I will look out for you."

I nodded in appreciation. "Thank you, my friend."

"Did you find your brother?"

"Unfortunately, no. But I found something else. Something more terrifying than the barbarian horde."

"The wolf? I shot it in the heart. Yet, it stood and ran away. How is that possible?"

"They're not what you think they are. It will take more than an arrow to kill that wolf."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. For now, we should retreat until we know what we are dealing with."

I based my response on what I know about Lysander without revealing his secret—a secret I had faithfully kept till that day. Suddenly, in the distance, a fire burst into view, dangerously close to Arland's house.

"Randall! The fire, is coming from the Lord's estate!"