Chapter 21: The masked ones
The forest was silent... oppressively silent. Even the faintest breeze had abandoned the trees, as if the heavens themselves held their breath. Only one sound remained scratches across soil, faint echoes of claws dragging over earth.
Veythor’s crimson red eyes narrowed. His gaze swept across the ground, where scattered leaves bore witness to a struggle. Each mark was a whisper of Shimi’s fate.
"The trail is fresh," he muttered... his voice was calm, but his eyes gleamed with predatory sharpness. "They didn’t get far."
Raika clenched his fists his knuckles whitened and trembling. His jaw quivered as though words were fighting to escape.
"Then what are we waiting for?! Let’s go!" His shout shattered the silence, touch of recklessness.
Veythor’s head turned slowly, his eyes cold as winter. "And rush straight into their fangs? The pack is clever... they want us desperate, running blindly into their trap. Even now... they’ll be watching and Waiting."
Raika froze, his breath shallow. He knew Veythor’s words carried truth, but truth could not soothe the frantic beating of his heart. Shimi’s name echoed within him, striking again and again like a hammer upon steel.
Veythor’s lips curled into a thin smile, one without warmth.
"Calm yourself. She may be weak... and stupid. But I don’t think she’s dead yet. Not until they’ve had their fun."
"Bastard... don’t talk about her like that!"
Raika snapped, fury trembling in his voice but Veythor had already turned away, his crimson eyes fixed on the darkness ahead. The forest seemed to respond branches swayed though no wind stirred, shadows lengthened, and the very air grew heavy, suffocating.
He stepped forward, his tone low and commanding. "Follow me and keep your mouth shut. One wrong noise, and we’ll be joining her."
They moved deeper into the woods, following the faint trail left behind. The ground bore marks of violence upturned soil, scattered leaves, claw-gouged bark. Yet the further they walked, the more faint the signs became, as though the forest itself wished to erase the crime.
A thought flickered coldly in Veythor’s mind.
Was she eaten this fast?
He dismissed it with a shake of his head. No its Impossible. Five, perhaps six minutes have passed. Not enough for beasts to devour a body whole. The thought was not comforting it was merely calculation.
Grrrrrrrrr—
A low growl cut through the silence, rolling through the trees like distant thunder. Both boys froze, every muscle taut. Raika’s instincts flared... he bolted toward the sound.
But in an instant, a strong hand seized his collar and yanked him back with brutal force. Raika crashed into the dirt, rage bursting within him like fire. He scrambled up, veins bulging in his neck, and grabbed Veythor’s collar, shaking him violently.
"What the hell was that for?! Don’t you want to save Shimi?!"
But Veythor’s gaze was as calm as still water beneath moonlight. His voice was low, infuriatingly steady.
"Raika... tell me something."
Raika froze, his breath caught in his throat.
"Do you... like Shimi?"
The words fell like stones into a silent pond. Raika’s face ignited red his lips trembled, struggling for air, for excuses, for denial. His chest rose and fell sharply, as though love itself was choking him.
"Do I... like her?"
he whispered, as though even voicing the thought might betray his heart. Images flashed... Shimi’s trembling eyes, her fear, her fragile smile. A warmth bloomed, then turned to dread.
He snapped back, teeth gritted.
"None of your damn business." His voice was firm, but his eyes betrayed him.
Veythor studied him in silence. Not yes.... not no but Hesitation. His mind mocked coldly: Still lost in the confusion phase of love.
"Idiot," Veythor’s words cut sharp. "What can you even do to save her? Fight the pack? You can’t... even one hound is more than you can handle. If we charge blindly, we’ll only become their next meal."
Raika opened his mouth to argue but no words came. Truth pressed down on him like chains his jaw tightened, his teeth grinding.
"Then what?" His voice cracked, torn between anger and despair. "What are we supposed to do? Just stand here?!"
"No," Veythor replied flatly. "We observe first... acting without any knowledge of situation is suicide."
Raika’s fury exploded.
"Observe?! Wait while she’s torn apart? While her blood stains the ground? And then what, huh?!"
Veythor almost laughed, his mockery sharp as a blade.
"What can two weaklings like us do? Tell me, Raika. Is your plan to leap like some hero, only to have your throat ripped open? Don’t make me laugh."
Raika’s fists trembled.
"Then what about you? What’s your great plan, Mr. Genius?!"
Veythor’s crimson eyes glinted.
"Plenty... we’re human. We think, we adapt, we outwit. Beasts are strong but blind. They only know hunger to rush blindly like you..." His lips curved in disdain. "That’s not exactly human... that’s animal."
Raika rolled his eyes, muttering bitterly.
"Fine then we’ll do it your way."
Before Veythor could speak further, the forest erupted with a sharp bark. The sound split the night like an arrow through silence both boys froze. Their eyes met... then, without words, they crept toward the sound.
"Don’t make noise," Veythor whispered... Raika nodded stiffly, his breathing shallow. Branches parted as Veythor pushed aside a wall of bushes. His crimson eyes narrowed.
The hounds were gathered, circling with snarls that shook the trees. Their twin heads snapped and barked, fangs bared in fury. The air reeked of blood and musk, suffocating with primal menace at the center lay Shimi.
Her body was motionless, her face pale, eyes closed as though lost to slumber. She bore no wounds yet still she seemed fragile, a candle’s flame trembling in the storm.
But the dogs were not barking at her.
Their hatred was fixed elsewhere. Beyond the circle stood two figures. They wore masks warped in grotesque, etched with strange designs. One was cloaked in animal furs, rough and primal. The other’s chest was bare, his skin streaked with crimson markings like blood painted in ritual. Both wore blood-colored cloth around their waists, and in their hands they held drawn bows, arrows ready to strike.
Predators faced predators. The pack snarled, the masked men stood unyielding, and in the center lay Shimi helpless, silent, unconscious.
Veythor’s crimson eyes narrowed his lips curved slightly.
Great timing.