The creature’s head erupted into flames and I felt a great deal of my strength sucked as fuel for that holy flame.

I fell to the ground as the lesser direwolf charged back to its pack, howling in pain. It was like lighting dried kindling with a torch. All the other direwolves caught fire as it passed them, and now all of them were scampering away, rolling on the ground until they stilled or turned into ash. It turned out that their fur was highly flammable to my blessed fire.

The fighters cheered as they saw some of the wolves catch fire. They scampered outside where they met their end, either through brambles coiling and strangling them, or burned to a crisp with my offensive flame. I couldn’t very well call it kindflame now, could I?

Jerome helped me up. “Go back to the elder’s house, brother. You’ll be safer there.”

Woodrow came up behind me and told Jerome that it was fine. “He’s tougher than he looks,” he said.

Throwing a worried look in my direction, Jerome grabbed a wooden spear lying on the ground and went back to Agate’s side. I heard her shout, “Good man!”

I leaned onto Woodrow, allowing him to support my weight. He let me grip his arm as my head pounded dully. I answered him without waiting for him to ask. “It felt like a great wind knocked my lungs. But I am fine. It will cost me greatly, but look how big an impact I made!” I gasped.

Woodrow shook his head. “You must reserve your strength. If you are the greatest weapon we have and only have limited firepower and range in you, then leave your flame for the big white one if she comes.” He looked sullen, and then out of the blue, he chuckled loudly. “This was what I was worried about when you came into the cloister garth. Wilbur and I were discussing if you can summon great balls of flame. Now we know.”

There was a great snapping of wood as the walls broke down completely. They splintered away to reveal the other remaining direwolves. Thankfully, their numbers were whittled down enough. There were seven of them remaining; enough for the fighters to surround them. Woodrow and I nodded at each other. He ran to rejoin the fighters as I dragged back unconscious bloody bodies with the help of Jerome and some others. I have strength enough for that. As I was dragging a moaning body from the field, I saw Harlan punch one beast in the snout and Agate banging one on the head with her shield. They looked good together, fighting as one.

The dark forest coiled around the fighters and direwolves. I had not realized I was already out in the open, right outside the destroyed border wall, as I pulled the unconscious and the weak inside. The fighters pushed the snarling, growling beasts into the forest where brambles whipped and dragged them away.

But I also saw the familiar shapes of vines on one side, and heard the burrowing of the soil, and then the shape of my brother Wilbur gently but firmly being placed on an elevated mound a few distance away from us. The vines pointed in our direction before they slunk back underground.

Woodrow and I exchanged bewildered looks as Wilbur spotted us and the skirmish. His eyes and mouth popped open when he absorbed all the wreckage and the fighting. Then he sprinted down towards us from the path. It was the most animated I ever saw him.

“No, what are you doing, you fool? Turn back!” Woodrow yelled, arms flapping, calling his attention. But Wilbur had eyes only for me. As he was running, some of the direwolves noticed him and ran in his direction.

“No!” Woodrow and I both yelled. We ran after them. I saw Wilbur’s hand reach into his satchels, holding a glass bottle of brown-colored liquid. He raised his arms, yelling at us, “Stand back!”

We stopped just as he smashed the bottle on the ground when the direwolves were near enough. The bottle exploded, causing a blast of air that caught the attention of both fighters and the five remaining beasts. Wilbur raised another, threatening to throw it at them. Some of them recoiled, walking back… to where the forest grabbed one direwolf and ended it.

Wilbur looked at me, holding my face. His hair was disheveled but he was otherwise fine. I let him hold me for a moment before breaking free from his grip. “Later. Right now, we have injuries to tend to.” I saw that the bottle he was holding was empty. Whatever it was he made, he only concocted one of it. He bluffed.

We left Woodrow in the fray, still holding back the beasts. He aimed at one direwolf, but missed its eye. The quick dagger stuck itself in the wolf's hind legs. I passed Agate and Harlan, making eye contact with them and pointing at Wilbur. “He’s with us. He came to help!”

They nodded and raised their shields to give us time to head back. Wilbur scanned the village and helped me carry more unconscious bodies in vacant tents or any shelter we could find. I helped Wilbur lift a particularly heavy, unconscious man whose eye was torn. Little by little, we cleared the grounds of groaning bodies. Wilbur winced as he smelled the blood. Quickly, I reached into his satchels and found the wooden vial from before and collected the blood from the injured. Wilbur watched me but said nothing. I placed the blood-filled container back in his satchel.

I went back outside. Just as I was about to collect a discarded spear to throw back to a waiting hand somewhere, one of the direwolves looked me in the eye. It had broken free from the rest and was slowly approaching me, baring its fangs, and smelling the air. I stepped back, ready to cast the holy flame, but when it was near enough, it stopped and just stared at me, ears pricked.

And then it howled, just a common short howl, and bolted away, nipping at the rest to follow him. They ran through the path, far away, and bounded for the part of the forest that was burned down, and onto a path that was burned away. I stared at them, wondering. Did they surrender?

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Everything was silent once more.

The battle had stopped. I went outside to the fighters standing, stances amused and wary as the direwolves sped away. The dark forest did not move. The brambles slinked back into the depths. Then, slowly, one of the fighters cried out, and it rippled throughout. Calls of victory and celebration rang from the border and into the ruined village of Kent.

Woodrow wiped his face, now holding his dagger. He had a smile on his face, but we shared a look, knowing that it was not the end. The village of Kent will not survive another night.

I passed through the sweaty bodies of celebrating fighters, noting their bruises and claw marks, until I saw the two elders.

“The one you allowed into your village is called Wilbur, our healer and guardian,” I said. “He will take care of your wounded. Woodrow, on the other hand, will care for your weary.” I looked hard at Agate. “Elder, more will come tomorrow night.”

She did not ask how I knew this. She only searched my eyes as if trying to untangle a knot with her gaze. Agate nodded and called Harlan. When they were both side to side, with Harlan full of ash sticking to his sweaty skin, Agate said, “We are not safe here anymore. We might have to take shelter in their home.” To me, she said, “Thank you. We will tell the rest of the villagers. I have a strong feeling that they would be easy to convince if it comes to that.”

Harlan observed the wreckage that was once their wall and saw a crumbled wooden tower. He scratched his head. “I just have one question. How did your brother make the ground explode?”

“He knows… things,” I said simply.

Harlan did not press, probably feeling the calming wave of the after-battle. He simply nodded and agreed with Agate. “Though, I wonder where those direwolves ran off to? The scouts said they came from the mountains, but they went off a different path.”

We felt the earth shake. Realizing what would happen, I flinched as the vines erupted to grab me. They were quicker now, not even bothering to slither around Agate and Harlan. They tripped as the vines rose and were about to seize me. I raised my hands, yelling, “I’m still not done here!”

But the vines grabbed my waist and arms tight. Before I was taken underground, I called out to the elders, “Follow my brothers! They would know what to do!”

“Us?!” I heard Woodrow protest as I was brought through a new tunnel.

As I resurfaced, I saw immediately the mouth of a mountain. Mount Lhottem must have many entrances. This entrance was like a yawning beast itself; the top of the entrance was shaped like overgrown fangs. I did not know why my brothers were not with me. I took in my surroundings and heard soft crunches from a path behind me. The path was a wreck, just like the wooden border. Dark trees were uprooted and boulders smashed. I focused inward. I had no weapons, but still had the strength to fight off a pack of direwolves. If the dark forest thought that I could handle this myself, then I was ready.

The soft crunching came closer through that path. I thought I saw a darker shadow moving towards me, but it was too far for even my eyes to see clearly. The steps, though, sounded oddly familiar…

The shape turned into a figure… the figure of a person... of about my height. They stepped over roots and trod lightly on the crushed stones. My heart was racing fast when I slowly realized why I recognized those steps.

“Claude!” I yelled.

Something was glinting on his side. I did not realize that the moon showed its pleasant pale face that night. No… What is he doing here?!

I was about to yell his name again when I felt a sudden chill drape over me. I heard the snarls before I saw the direwolves gaining on Claude on either side. Only two direwolves. The dark forest must have dealt with one. But the dark forest cannot protect Claude from the beasts now, not when the path he was on was damaged like that.

I gestured wildly at him, shouting his name. His head shot up, and he paused in his steps. “Ryne?” He called when he recognized my voice. “Ryne? There was a new path on the farm. I thought I imagined it, but—”

“Stop moving!” I shouted desperately.

The wolves were so close and I was still so far. Claude did not see them yet, blocked by more twisted and bent trees. I held my outstretched hand, shaking with fear at the sight of those fangs thirsty for soft skin.

“Gaelmar, protect him!”

I closed my eyes and tumbled to the ground as a warm surge of strength left me breathless. I saw, just as Claude turned around when the closest direwolf lunged at him, a short burst of flame that flew from my hand and landed squarely on the one whose jaws were aiming at my friend’s shoulder.

Claude did not see the flame, but both direwolves yelped as we both struck them down. Claude quickly dodged the direwolf’s swipe as it got distracted by my offensive flame, and he applied Woodrow’s tutelage, using a false step to trick the direwolf. He hopped to one side as the wolf pawed the ground. Quickly, Claude hit the direwolve’s paw, slicing it off. When the direwolf fell, Claude brought the sword into its head. Unfortunately, he only grazed the beast. The other one turned rapidly to ash in the air.

The direwolf pushed him out of the path and into level ground, close to me. As it was about to strike again, Claude felt for me, pushing me behind him, and used his sword to block the direwolve’s claws. I held out my hand just in time to the sound of claw banging against sword. Claude held his breath and closed his eyes as my fingers touched the blade.

It glowed.

The wolf yelped and was thrown back by a great force. I noticed that I kept half of my strength which was usually required when casting balls of flame. The direwolf turned into ash, leaving an ugly scent of singed fur.

We saw the ash float in the air, and a darker smoke-like essence lift and float back to the mountaintops. We caught our breaths. Once Claude recovered, he turned to face me, checking me for injuries.

“I’m fine,” I said. I was checking him, in turn. “What are you doing all the way over here?”

“Asks the monk without his brothers!” Claude replied.

It was wild to see him here in the middle of the night. Even wilder than seeing direwolves attack villagers. “There was a village in trouble. We came just in time when those direwolves attacked. We tended to the injured. Woodrow helped with the attack.”

“Those are direwolves…” He stared at me. “The stories of my father are coming back to life.” His tone did not sound frightened. It sounded awed. He was not shaken at all.

Then Claude looked at his sword. “I had a dream about Da. How he was striking the air with this sword. I dreamt that the sword was broken. So, I got up in the middle of the night and went to our shed and took it out. But then I thought I heard howls coming from the forest and that’s when I noticed that there was a new path that formed.

“And you followed it?” I asked incredulously.

“I was curious,” he shrugged. “I felt something, too. Like this voice you get inside your head sometimes, you know? I just kept walking and it was as if the branches were making way for me. Then I found you, and those great wolves.”