“The wilderness that is sandwiched between Halistair and the entrance to the Wilds is filled with all sorts of creatures. As is true with every Wild region throughout Eridia, they tend to follow a certain theme.

No one knows exactly why this is, as the surges spawn all sorts of hateful things, but this one truism has remained consistent throughout the generations. Near Halistair, the surges we experience seem particularly in love with all things wolf.”

- Professor Selena Greenwood, (Halistair Branch)

I awoke to a Whispeleaf chirping joyfully atop my stomach. Dew hung to the nearby bushes and grass like a desperate lover, and I caught a strong whiff of smoke pass by my scrunched up nose. I tilted my head up to get a better look at the brash bird atop my belly, half-convinced it would fly away from my sudden motion. But like some stalwart guardian, it simply met my questioning gaze and chirped louder.

“Jerk. You woke me up,” I grumbled. I had the worst knot in my neck, and groaned as the—granted, gorgeous—avion creature hopped off my body to perch on a nearby stone. It whistled with its usual hypnotic melody that it was famous for and watched with beady black eyes as I sat up.

Something was wrong.

It wasn’t the absence of Sir Sire from the other side of the coals that remained from the campfire. I wasn’t even sure he’d returned after I had drifted off. Alarm shot through me when I realized how oddly I had fallen asleep. It was a major lapse in judgment to fall asleep without installing at least a few traps out here in the open of the forest, and I was mentally slapping myself for that oversight.

But that wasn’t it either. I gauged my surroundings for what might be the source of disconcertion, my neck straining to peer through the dense bushes as I twisted it this way and that for any signs of movement.

“Holy Zadalk, what was in that tea?!” I yelped as realization rose inside me like the dawn that peered at me through the foliage. My body—it didn’t hurt. Slowly, and with trembling fingers, I applied pressure against my worst wounds. First, I checked my ankle, and then quickly my ribs and arms. Nothing. There was a dull ache in my neck, but I attributed that to the unfortunate position I had passed out in. Better still, I had slept peacefully up through the dawn. That meant the gates would be open and I could finally get out of this green hell.

My mind raced through the images it offered of last night, and I started to chuckle. It was a wild, sardonic sound to my ears, but surely all that transpired was a part of some twisted dream.

That’s it! I dreamt it all. I just met Sir Sire, he gave me tea, and I had wild and impossible lucid dreams!

But when I looked down at my uniform, I saw the rips and stains. Purple ichor from those wolves, and the large hole from where my pants were shredded open. Unblemished skin, if a bit red from the brisk cold of the morning, greeted my disbelieving attention when I turned my legs over to see the hole.

“Their seamstresses are going to hate me,” I surmised when I envisioned having to explain to the quartermaster back at the academy what had happened to make this wretched state of my uniform. And the fact that I didn’t have any wounds to go along with them strangely made my case more outrageous.

“Oh, well.” I rose to my feet and tested out my weight on the now uninjured ankle. It was like nothing had ever happened to it. A crystalline form glittered just outside the loose circle of our campfire, and I recognized it immediately. The wolf leader I’d killed now lay beside a needleberry bush. Attached to its thick hide was a piece of parchment that hung off of a loose crystal articulation. I snatched it and read:

Salutations, young Thea!

Sincere apologies for my absence this morn. I felt a word on the wind, and simply had to follow its siren song. I went to the trouble of negotiating the release of this Shardclaw from its brethren, and hope that you use it well. Do not take its death lightly.

Alas, I am sure we shall meet again. Keep out of boring trouble, and watch out for those Pufflemurs. I am convinced they steal the left socks of all those they deem worthy of their ire.

Fond farewells and may you ever and always feel flipperjoppity,

Sir Sire

I grinned at the eccentric gentleman’s gaudy handwriting. If old poetry were able to pen words, their handwriting would look modest compared to this man’s insane level of ornate and unnecessary flair. It took me nearly a minute to just understand the base intent of the letter, and a second to parse out each line in its entirety.

Pocketing the precious gift, I addressed the larger issue in my near future: the giant Shardclaw. Nervously, I rolled my wrists as I prepared to lug the beast behind me. With a jolt, my right arm grew heavier as the gauntlet appeared as if it knew my intention.

“Well, fancy that,” I muttered in appreciation. The shiny metal of my enchanted item caught the sunbeams that refracted off the dead beast, and I noted with some more glee that all of the debris and dents it had sustained were entirely absent. I glanced around the vicinity one last time, nodded at the Whispeleaf that sang like hope itself had a voice, and then grabbed a handful of the Shardclaw’s fur. A sharp swirl of excitement danced through my mind as I peered down at the creature.

This was my first kill. My first monster. My mind raced with what enchantment could be made from its fallen form. Sir Sire’s words lanced through my thoughts, and my mood sombered just a bit. Shardclaw in my gauntleted fist, I stared up through the thick trees to where Halistair loomed far above.

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This is going to take a while.

***

“Oy, there! Stop where ya are!” One of the guards yelled at my approach. The crowd entering the city under the noon sun all parted and gawked at my slow gait. Sweat beaded my brow and stained the pits beneath my arms, but I didn’t care. I had a monster towed behind my iron grip. The gauntlet gave me enhanced strength, so it only felt like I lugged five grown men up a mile long slope rather than ten. That wasn’t even including the nightmare of just getting the dense form of crystal out of the hells-damned forest. Everything had caught on its pointy hide while I yanked it through the woods.

Everything.

I probably looked like quite the harpy to those poor bastards unfortunate to be on duty at this gate. Leaves and twigs were affixed unattended to my hair. My braid was a mess. And I had the biggest grin on my face.

“Morning, fine gentleman. I am an Orion, and I demand entry,” I replied boldly. “Delay me, and my enchantment timeframe will be lost.” My eyes narrowed on the two rotund me with pikes and chainmail. “Don’t do that.”

I didn’t actually know if being an Orion allowed me to get away with being a jerk, but I really didn’t want to wait for some official to come over just to say ‘yes, that’s an Orion uniform. Yes, that’s one of our first-years who got lost when she was given the most menial task ever yesterday. Thanks for returning her and this dead wolf.’

My imagination might be a bit…Specific.

“How do we know you’re an Orion? Your uniform, if it can be called that, looks a mite bit…used? Take it off a dead one, did ya?” The guard on the right asked. He had a goatee that wafted in the sun like some unspent daydream. His beady gaze roved over my form, and I bristled under his attention.

“How do I know you’re the real guard?” I bit back.

“Uhm, ‘cause we’s wearing guard uneeforms and we’s got guards piiikes,” the guard on the left over-enunciated.

“Right you are, my good man. Uniforms are important. They distinguish, don’t they?” I asked him, ignoring his compatriot entirely.

“...right,” he said, probably concentrating on where he heard the word ‘distinguish’ before.

“So, take in my uniform for a moment, lads. It’s a bit wrinkled and worn, I’ll admit, but notice the lack of wounds on my body. And here I have a freshly killed Shardclaw. It’s dead. I’m not.” I raised my right hand to display the thick metal plates of my gauntlet. “Connect the dots.”

I waited as the two of them whispered far too loudly to even be considered secretive.

“She’s got a point, Stuart,” the one on the left muttered bravely. The one on the right narrowed his thick eyelids at his friend.

“I knows she’s got one, but I don’t like the smell of her. Might cause a ruckus in our city, Shelly,” he replied loudly. Some spittle escaped his lips and lingered on his goatee.

“I swear I won’t cause any ruckus, my fine gentleman,” I offered dramatically. They both swiveled toward me in panic. Then, with more loud whispers, they conferred quickly.

“She’s got them superhuman hearing we’ve been…er…hearing about. She’s an Orion, alright! She’s even got the uneeform.” Shelly practically yelled into his friend’s ear.

“Aye, that she does. I says we let her through and do away with the strange huntress. She might be a witch and curse us if’n we don’t let her pass.”

They both nodded sagely at one another before they stoically turned back toward me. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“You may pass, oh mighty Orion! Sorry for the confusion. Next time, take care of your uniform,” Stuart declared loudly. I once again demonstrated the utmost level of self-control as I didn’t throw them pinkie finger with my free hand as I passed them. Shardclaw in tow, I inched my way toward the large spires of the Hunter’s Academy.

It took me another hour just to reach its gates. Street vendors gawked and whispered as I passed them up the incline toward my destination. The midday crowds split for me. The stench of the decaying corpse I pulled behind me might’ve helped in that endeavor. When I reached the front gates of my new home, the sentries above the wall were far more helpful. With a few orders, the iron gates dazzling with enchantments rose with a mighty creak of metal against metal.

The courtyard I walked into was adjacent to the combat field. Hunters from all divisions walked about their business, but soon halted when they saw my disheveled form stroll by. One group, all wearing black uniforms, lounged on a collection of stone benches beside an intricate fountain. One elf stood in front of them with a cold, but neutral, glare.

“I swear to you, it was like nothing I had ever seen! The young…lady…went completely feral. She attacked me for my legacies, and it was all I could do to fend her off. Then, with an evil grin, she practically jumped off the side of the hill. Me and my honorable cohort searched for her long into the day, but we couldn’t find her anywhere!” A familiar voice explained, brimming with emotion I knew he didn’t feel.

The elf who listened to Prince James' false tale glanced up at my approaching form, Shardclaw glimmering behind me. Prince James and his allies all sat facing away from me.

“Feral, you say? I wonder what got into her to make her so unhinged?” Professor Brayborrow inquired smoothly.

“Probably her upbringing, I’d say. Not much good, those commoners. They scratch and claw like animals, but they can’t stand a chance against a true foe. We fended her advances off, but were as shocked as you are now when she jumped like that,” one of the boys who’d attacked me answered haughtily. The elven professor closed his eyes and nodded along.

“By your fine and calculated estimations, would you say that this Thea would survive all by herself in those woods you dared not enter?” The professor asked in a voice that sounded like a razor against stone.

“Never! No one could survive that forest, so close to the Wilds. And without formal training and a warband to accompany her, she is surely dead. Zadalk only knows what might lurk in those shadows!” Prince James shifted a bit in his seat, but replied with more compassion in his voice than I thought possible from the worm.

“Oh, we know what monsters frequent our forests, princeling. Our lands are known for their lupine beasts. Gloomstalkers, Zengos, and even Shardclaws are often discovered near the borders of the high wall.” Professor Brayborrow looked directly at me when he spoke next. “So, pray tell, how do all of you explain that?!”

He pointed directly at me.

I stopped in my tracks as five heads swiveled in my direction. Blood fled their cheeks as they paled at my stark image. I stood tall and rolled my shoulders back. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to.

“Cadet Thea Shade, you’ve made quite a remarkable impression today. A moment of your time, if you will,” a new voice spoke up behind me. Brayborrow looked ready to interrupt, but then thought better of it. For all of two seconds, at least. Eyes as dead as the wolf next to me, he addressed the newcomer with a cold and bitter tone.

“Headmaster Felwirth, this is the student that these—nobility—claimed was lost to the forests. As you can see, they lied.”