The fight with Victor had started in the clearing, a blur of claws and fists and raw, unrelenting force. But then the ground had given way, and you’d both tumbled down a steep embankment, landing in this dense, unfamiliar part of the forest. Now, as you crouch there, your body aching and your mind reeling, you realize that the fight is the least of your worries. Because the forest is alive, and it’s not on your side.

You hear a low growl, and your eyes snap to Victor himself. He’s standing now, his claws retracted, his expression one of cold amusement. “Well,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “Looks like we’re stuck here together. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth?”

You don’t respond. Instead, you glance around, mind racing as you try to figure out a way out of this. But the trees are too dense, the underbrush too thick, and the light is fading fast. You’re not going to make it out of here alone. And neither is he.

Victor takes a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, and you feel the air around you grow heavier, charged with a kind of raw, untamed energy. “You know,” he says, his tone light but cutting, “we could keep fighting. But I don’t think either of us is gonna win this one. Not here. Not ugly like this.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry, and force yourself to stand, your legs trembling beneath you. “What are you saying?” you ask, your voice shaky but defiant.

Victor smirks, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’m saying we’re both screwed if we don’t work together. So, what do you say, kid? Truce?”