Standing at the entrance of the cave, I was swept by memories of a day-long past, when Arland and I had tracked a trail of blood that led us here. It was in this very cave we found Lysander, not the wolf we expected, but a boy living wild, surviving against all odds. Arland had seen this wild child as the answer to Ingrid's wishes, fulfilling her aspiration of becoming a mother once again.

Now, the dire consequences of our past decisions were evident, casting a shadow over the fate of Bortoli—a fate none of us could have foreseen.

"There's nobody alive, any of those corpses could be Bernard's brother," Phillip said. I noticed the corpse of a horse, near Arland's wagon. I approached the wagon kneeling in front of my dead companion, Billy, placing my hand over his blood-stained mane.

"I'm sorry, my friend. I promise I will avenge your death."

I glanced again at the scattered remnants near Arland's wagon, remembering Bernard's gesture of pointing directly toward it. A spark of curiosity flared within me—perhaps Bernard had tried to indicate his brother's last known location. But now, knowing he could be among the deceased, the information seemed futile.

"Let's gather whatever we can salvage from Arland's wagon and head back to town. I believe we can decipher how to craft these weapons. I can only pray that Lysander and his pack of wolves have withdrawn to the depths of the forest."

"I agree. I can't bear this sight much longer."

The moment we touched the covers of the wagon, the blade of a sword suddenly propelled through, tearing through the cover, catching us off guard. Phillip quickly nocked an arrow in his bow, taking aim directly at whatever lurked beneath that cover.

"Phillip, wait."

I grabbed the cover with my hands, glancing at Phillip, who kept his arrow drawn, ready to release it. Realizing my intentions, Phillip nodded in assent. Without hesitation, I yanked the cover aside, unveiling a young man, barely sixteen years old, hiding within Arland's wagon.

"Please, spare my life!"

The young man continued to shiver in fear, the sharp sword slipping from his grasp as he covered his face with his hands. Recognizing that he was not a threat to us, I signaled to Phillip to lower his bow.

I took a deep breath, knowing this young man might be who we were looking for. "You almost killed me with your sword. Who are you?"

"My name is Marcus, sir."

"There is nothing here you should fear, Marcus. It's just the two of us."

The young man's resemblance to Bernard was unmistakable. "Are you Bernard's brother?"

The young man nodded. "My brother, where is he?"

I reached out my hand to assist the young man in getting off the wagon. As he stood beside me, he turned to witness the gruesome scene he had narrowly survived.

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"I can't believe it, everyone's dead."

Stepping aside, I revealed the lifeless body of his brother near the mouth of the cave.

"Brother!" The young man ran towards him, silently enduring his loss.

We stepped back, giving him space to mourn. As he knelt before Bernard, the young man took hold of his brother's hand. "I didn't understand why you gave me your sword, or why you insisted I hide in the wagon. Now I see—it was your way of protecting me. You sacrificed yourself so I could live. For that, I will always be grateful."

He stood up, gathering whatever remained of his brother's corpse, and carried him deep inside the cave. Watching him, I realized that this act of carrying him away might provide a form of closure not just for Bernard, but for all those who had suffered the same fate in this tragic event.

"I think we should gather the rest of the bodies and bury them with Bernard, then, seal the cave."

"I agree," Phillip said.

We began to collect the bodies strewn about and transported them into the cave. Phillip, in the meantime, started gathering rocks to seal off the cave entrance, enclosing all the bodies within.

"That should do it," Phillip said, after placing the last rock on the wall.

I glanced at Marcus, as he stood in front of the now sealed cave, mourning his brother. "I'm sorry you lost your brother; he was a good man. I know this is not the time to bother you, but I've heard you are a skilled blacksmith."

The young man's expression changed from sadness to curiosity. "I can make a few things."

"We require your blacksmithing expertise to forge weapons capable of dealing with the creatures responsible for your brother's death, the Demon's Wolf pack."

He wiped his eyes, nodding slowly. "Bernard would have wanted me to help. I'll do it—not just for him, but for all of us. When do we start?"

"Have you worked with silver before?" I asked.

Marcus nodded. "I have. But there's not a lot left in the forge."

I pointed at Arland's wagon, my eyes focusing on the coffers that held the town's treasures. “Inside the coffers of that wagon, there’s enough silver for you to forge weapons for us. Iron isn’t effective against these beasts. We’ll need silver weapons if we’re to have any chance of defeating them.”

Marcus walked over to the wagon and lifted the lid of one of the chests. He pulled out a silver figurine, inspecting it closely. “This should work. What type of weapons do you need?”

“We need a few swords for close combat, at least one spear, and as many arrowheads as you can make.”

With a smile, Marcus replied, "Let's get to work then. These wolves will regret killing my brother."

Marcus and I hitched the wagon to my horse and began making our way toward Bortoli. The smoke billowing from Arland's house served as a useful cover, creating a smokescreen that allowed us to enter the village unnoticed. But, as we approached the gates, Phillip raised his hand, signaling us to stop. From the smoke, multiple wolves emerged, immediately charging towards us.

"Randall, we have company," Phillip yelled. "Take Marcus to the smithy, I will meet you there.

We split up, each of us following our own path. Phillip rode his horse toward Arland's house, drawing the wolves with him. Marcus and I hurried to the smithy, quickly unloading the chests.

"Once we're inside, we'll be safe. The smithy is well fortified." Marcus said.

Marcus diligently began his work, smelting all the silver he could find within the chests. I settled into a chair near the door, comforted by the warmth of the fire roaring within the bloomery. However, my peaceful moment was abruptly interrupted by a forceful knock on the door.

When I opened the door, I was met by the sight of Caleb helping Phillip to walk inside, and Audrey following closely, carrying Phillip's bow and quiver.

"Quickly, come inside!"

I helped him take his coat off, revealing a deep scratch on his arm. Blood trickled down his fingers, making Caleb uncomfortable.

"I just need a rag. There's nothing to worry about. Those darn wolves attacked my horse, sending me flying out of the saddle," Phillip said.

Audrey promptly took a piece of cloth, soaked it in water, and began to wrap it around Phillip's wound. "We came across him walking on the road. We couldn't leave him to fend for himself."

The rhythmic sound of Marcus' hammer striking the forge resonated from the adjacent room. We huddled together around the comforting warmth of the bloomery, our thoughts filled with uncertainty about what the night might have in store for us.