After Henry finished his tragic tale, silence fell over the clearing. When the tension eased slightly, Elisa, still shaken by what she had heard, turned to James.
— I must go to my uncle, — she said firmly. — Tomorrow, or the day after. I am certain that with Uncle John Urban, I will be in complete safety.
James shook his head.
— Elisa, it is dangerous, — he replied softly but resolutely. — The road is unpredictable, and who knows what awaits you there. Besides, are you sure you would be safer with your uncle? Here, among us — Henry's squad and mine — you are under reliable protection. Together, we can repel any force, even Torsken's army.
Elisa hesitated. She looked at the warriors gathered around the campfire. Their faces were grim, but their eyes shone with loyalty.
— Moreover, — James continued, lowering his voice so only she could hear, — my father and his factory are going through difficult times. Not everything is as simple as it seems. For now, it is better for you to stay here. You will understand everything in time.
Elisa nodded. She disliked that something was being hidden from her, but James's words sounded convincing. She agreed to stay. After dinner and long, heated discussions of Henry's story, Elisa, exhausted and emotionally drained, went to Aunt Meredith's house. In the cozy room, a made bed already awaited her. Elisa lay down, and the peace of the night enveloped her, promising oblivion. She drifted off to sleep, lulled by the silence and the scent of wood.
But the peaceful night did not last long. Suddenly, Elisa felt a light draft and a strange, chilling sense of danger wake her. She snapped her eyes open and saw something that made her heart freeze in terror. Right outside the window, in the moonlight, stood two massive silhouettes. They were wolves, but not ordinary ones. Their eyes glowed with a sinister yellow fire, and their fangs looked like sharp daggers. They were staring straight at her.
They were werewolves.
They smashed the window with a single blow. Elisa screamed, but it was too late. One of the werewolves snatched her and carried her toward the forest, while the second followed close behind. The entire camp sprang into motion instantly. Henry, James, and his warriors rushed out of their tents, seizing their weapons.
— After me! — James shouted, and his squad dashed in pursuit.
But it was futile. The werewolves were incredibly fast. They tore through the forest like ghosts; their footsteps were silent, and their speed was staggering. James's squad ran with all their might, but they simply could not catch them. They saw only shadows flickering in the darkness.
After a few minutes, the warriors stopped, gasping for breath. They had lost the trail. Elisa had been kidnapped. The camp plunged into an uneasy silence, and in that silence, everyone heard only one thought: they had failed to protect her.
By early morning, James's camp was like a disturbed anthill. No one slept. Warriors talked excitedly, sharpening knives and checking their rifles. Their faces showed a mixture of rage and determination. The kidnapping of Elisa — their princess, the hope of the living residents of Marionis — was a personal insult to each of them.
James walked from one soldier to another, giving orders. His face was darker than a storm cloud. He felt responsible for what had happened.
— We're going after her! — shouted one of the warriors, a tall, sturdy lad named Brent. — Just let them dare touch her! We'll tear their lair apart!
— We're with you, James! — another named Logan chimed in. — She is our princess, our last hope. And we couldn't protect her. This is our fault. We will bring her back!
Voices of support rang out from all sides. The men were burning with the desire to rush into the pursuit immediately. Their resolve was evident. James stopped, looked over his squad, and felt pride fill his heart.
— I am very grateful to you, friends, — he said, his voice trembling with emotion. — Thank you for your loyalty and courage. Your devotion to the princess is the best thing I could see. We will bring her back!
At that moment, Henry appeared in the camp. He was grim, his eyes fixed on a single point as if he were reliving his own tragedy once more. He approached James and placed a hand on his shoulder.
— You cannot do this alone, — he said quietly but firmly. — These are not just wolves. They are werewolves. They know how to hide, and they are very fast. You need stronger help.
James nodded, realizing Henry was right. He had seen for himself the speed with which they vanished into the woods.
— We will go first, — James said, his voice full of resolve. — While you gather the men, we will already be on their trail.
Henry agreed.
— Yes, go now, — Henry replied. — I will tell you where. To reach their lair, you must follow the Cursed Creek. It is not just water. It is a **portal**. Follow it, and it will lead you straight to them. My squad will follow behind to cover you and help if needed. Do not worry. We will find her.
James realized this was the best plan. With Henry on their side, they would have a much better chance. He thanked Henry for the wise counsel, and Henry, wasting no time, turned and walked quickly toward the forest. James looked at his men. A fire burned in their eyes; they were ready for battle.
— Gear up! — he shouted. — We are going for Elisa.
James gave the order, and his squad quickly prepared for the march, their determination burning in their eyes. When the last warriors disappeared behind the trees, James turned to Henry, his expression becoming serious.
— We will find them, — James said firmly. — I believe we will bring the princess back.
— It's not just about the werewolves, James, — Henry answered quietly but firmly, looking toward the forest. His gaze became as dark as it was when he told his story.
James frowned.
— What do you mean?
— Do you remember I told you about the small creatures that wanted to eat me? Cannibals. Their village is not far from where the werewolves live. They are deadly dangerous. They aren't just predators; they are cruel and cunning.
James felt a chill run down his spine. The werewolves were familiar to them, but cannibals… that was a new, terrifying threat.
— Does that mean we have to pass through their lands? — his voice was tense.
— Yes. And it will be harder than I thought. They don't hunt for food; they do it for sport. I saw how they deal with their victims. And they care nothing for our rifles or our knives. They appear and disappear like ghosts.
Henry looked up at James.
— Now do you understand why I wanted us to unite? My squad knows how to fight them. They are at war with them. Our people are the only ones who can resist this force.
James nodded, his face turning pale. Now he understood why Henry had insisted on joining the squads. Their mission was not just a rescue; it was a war. And they were heading not to their deaths, but to a battle that would decide the fate of their kingdom.
Yet, James still went first.
The camp was left behind. Stocked with ammunition and provisions, James's squad went deep into the forest. Their steps were confident, but tension hung in the air. They followed the werewolves' tracks. Ahead, winding between the trees, flowed the creek — the very one Henry had called "Cursed." Its waters were unnaturally dark, and the vegetation along the banks seemed twisted, as if tormented by an invisible fire.
— So, we're supposed to follow this creek now? — Logan asked, peering into the murky water. — I don't like the look of this.
— Henry said it's the only way, — James replied, his voice sounding as steady as his footsteps. — He said it's a **portal**. We trust him. He knows what he's doing.
Despite the ominous atmosphere, the men tried to cheer each other up with jokes.
— Hey, Brent, you sure you brought enough ammo? — Logan shouted, laughing. — Otherwise, you'll get home and your kids will be asking where that giant wolf is that you promised to show them.
— Don't worry, I'll take more than one, — Brent replied, patting his rifle. — I'll definitely come back with a trophy. I'm just thinking if I should show it to the kids. Wouldn't want to give them nightmares.
— Something tells me, — James added grimly, — that they're already having those nightmares, so don't worry about it.
They followed the tracks deeper and deeper into the heart of the forest. The prints were massive, unnaturally large, pressed deep into the soft earth. The warriors stopped from time to time to check the direction, and each time they found new ones. These were the tracks of not one, but two werewolves.
As time went on, the joking stopped. The air became heavier, and the trees around them grew more somber. The warriors stayed close, communicating in whispers. They felt they were being watched, that they were not alone in this forest. And they realized Henry's words were true.
Finally, they came upon a large clearing. In it stood an old, half-ruined hut, and from beneath it, as if from a burrow, a path emerged. James stopped and raised his hand for his squad to halt. The warriors froze, hiding behind the trees. They felt that their journey had come to an end, and now they would have to face the ones who had kidnapped their princess.
— This is it, — James whispered, and there was no trace of joking in his voice. — We have arrived.