The growl rolled through the clearing again.
Low.
Heavy.
Close.
Every man froze.
Weapons raised.
Eyes searching the dark between the trees.
Corvyn stepped slightly forward.
Nightfeather held ready.
The blade seemed to drink the dim light around it.
"Hold," he said quietly.
No one moved.
Even Ser Halric stilled.
The forest pressed in.
Silent.
Watching.
Then—
A shape shifted between the trees.
Large.
Too large.
A shadow detached itself from the darkness.
And stepped into the clearing.
It was no wolf.
No bear.
Something twisted between both.
Massive.
Its body scarred and thick with muscle, its fur dark and matted with old blood.
Eyes like pale fire locked onto them.
Breathing slow.
Controlled.
Hungry.
One of the younger men whispered,
"Gods…"
The creature moved.
A single step forward.
The ground seemed to feel it.
Halric tightened his grip on his sword.
"That's new."
Corvyn did not respond.
His focus was absolute.
The beast circled slightly.
Studying them.
Not rushing.
Not wild.
Hunting.
It had killed the Boltons here.
All of them.
And now—
It had found something new.
Corvyn shifted his stance.
Lower.
Balanced.
"Spread out," he said quietly.
The men obeyed instantly, forming a wider arc around the creature.
Halric stepped to Corvyn's side.
"You ever fought something like this before?"
"No."
"Good," Halric muttered. "Would've been worried if you said yes."
The beast's lips curled back slightly.
Revealing teeth too long.
Too sharp.
A low rumble built in its chest.
Then—
It moved.
Fast.
Far too fast for its size.
It lunged at the nearest soldier.
The man barely had time to raise his spear before the creature slammed into him.
The impact threw him aside like nothing.
A scream cut short instantly.
"Now!" Corvyn shouted.
The Ravaryn men surged forward.
Steel flashed.
Blades struck the beast's hide.
Some cut shallow.
Some did not cut at all.
The creature roared.
A deafening sound.
It turned, swiping with a massive claw.
One man was thrown back, armor torn open.
Halric charged in with a shout.
His sword struck hard against the creature's side.
This time—
It bit.
The beast recoiled slightly, blood darkening its fur.
"Now that's more like it!" Halric shouted.
Corvyn moved in.
Precise.
Focused.
He waited for the opening.
Measured its movements.
Watched the rhythm of its attack.
The beast lunged again—
Corvyn stepped aside.
And struck.
Nightfeather cut deep across its flank.
The creature roared in fury.
Turning on him instantly.
Its eyes locked onto Corvyn now.
Nothing else mattered.
Good.
Corvyn shifted his footing.
"Come," he murmured.
The beast charged.
Everything slowed.
Snow falling.
Breath steady.
The distance closing.
At the last moment—
Corvyn moved.
A step to the side.
A turn.
A strike.
Nightfeather drove forward with all his strength.
The blade sank deep into the creature's chest.
A perfect strike.
The beast staggered.
Roared—
Then collapsed heavily into the snow.
Silence followed.
Broken only by the ragged breathing of the men.
No one moved.
Not at first.
Then Halric let out a long breath.
"Well…"
He wiped blood from his blade.
"That explains the camp."
Corvyn pulled Nightfeather free.
Dark blood steamed in the cold air.
He looked down at the creature.
Massive.
Unnatural.
Wrong.
"This forest is changing," he said quietly.
Halric glanced at him.
"Like our mysterious friend said."
Corvyn nodded slightly.
His gaze lifted toward the dark trees beyond the clearing.
If this was what waited deeper in the Wolfswood…
Then the war was no longer just against men.
And that made it far more dangerous.