The night was alive with snarls, the sharp crack of branches under clawed feet, and the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. Lycans—dozens of them—had chased you relentlessly through the woods, their guttural howls closing in from all sides. You had no time to think, only run, dodging through twisted trees and over jagged roots until your legs gave out beneath you.

A misstep.

Your foot caught a slope hidden beneath the underbrush, and suddenly you were falling—branches whipping at your arms, rocks digging into your side as the hill gave way beneath you. The last thing you remembered was the sharp snap of your head hitting something hard, and then—darkness.

You didn’t know how long you were out. Minutes? Hours? But when you finally stirred, the cold bite of night was gone, replaced by warmth. Something soft, almost animal-like, cushioned your body. You shifted, groaning as pain flared in your skull and ribs.

Then you noticed it.

Beneath you was thick, coarse fur. Dense, matted in places, and warm with the slow rise and fall of steady breathing. You froze.

Heart racing, you pushed yourself upright despite the screaming protest of your muscles. And then you saw it clearly, illuminated by a faint shaft of moonlight breaking through the trees.

A Varcolac.

It lay curled around you like a sleeping beast, massive and powerful, its claws half-buried in the dirt, its grotesque frame rising and falling with each breath. Its fur was damp from the mist, muscles rippling beneath the skin, and its jaw—lined with rows of jagged, beastly teeth—hung slightly open as it breathed.

But it wasn’t asleep.

Its eyes were open, glowing faintly in the dark. Watching you.

You didn’t move. You didn’t dare. It could have torn you apart without effort. A creature like this—larger than any Lycan you’d seen—was built to kill, a predator in every sense of the word.

But it didn’t attack.

Instead, it simply watched. Quiet. Still. Like it was waiting.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, your mind racing with questions. Why hadn’t it killed you? Why was it lying beside you like some sort of twisted guardian? Was it injured? Tamed? Or was it something else entirely?

Whatever the answer was, one thing was clear—

It had protected you from the others.

And you were still alive because of it.