The weeks blurred together in a rhythm of predawn sharpening of blades, tense forest treks, and the quiet companionship of his unlikely shadow, Victim. Yes that's the name he gave the pup.
Femi still didn't understand how this was training. If anything, it felt like Varga was testing how long it would take for the forest to swallow him whole.Every snapped twig could be a rabbit or a predator; every gust of wind carried whispers of things he wasn't sure he wanted to name.
But with Victim trotting beside him or more accurately, stalking ahead like a tiny, overconfident fool, the woods felt less like a death sentence and more like… a very dangerous chore.
The little wolf had grown bolder, its leg healing well. Its fur, once matted with dirt and blood, now gleamed silver in the pale morning light. It still refused to answer to the name Femi had given it, unless food was involved. Then, suddenly, it was all wagging tail and eager yips. Very convenient little thief.
Today, like every other day, Femi trudged through the undergrowth, checking snares while Victim darted ahead, nose to the ground. The pup had developed a habit of vanishing for hours, only to reappear when Femi skinned the rabbits, as if summoned by the scent of blood.
"You think you're smart using me eh," Femi accused, tossing a scrap of meat toward it. Victim caught it midair and swallowed without chewing. "No loyalty to me,Just meat."
The wolf pup blinked at him, then sneezed, utterly unrepentant.
Femi rolled his eyes and kept walking.
But then, something felt off.
The forest had gone too quiet. No birds, no rustling. Just the whisper of leaves and the weight of something watching.
Femi froze. Victim's ears pricked, body tensing.
Then..
A low, guttural growl rumbled through the trees. Not Victim's tiny, comedic snarl. Something deeper. Something more menacing.
Femi's hand flew to his axe.
From the shadows between the trees, eyes gleamed, yellow, unblinking.
Oh.
Oh no.
A full-grown direwolf stepped into the clearing.
Saliva dripped from jagged teeth, and unlike the ones he and Varga had faced before, this one wasn't gaunt or stumbling. It was massive and muscled. Its shoulders stood taller than Femi's own shoulder, its paws leaving deep imprints in the snow as it advanced.
And it was staring right at Victim.
Femi's stomach dropped.
This is it. This is how I die. Not by monsters, not by Krags, but because I fed a stray and its mom came to collect.
The beast snarled, hackles raised. Victim, the traitor, let out a high-pitched whine and darted behind Femi's legs.
"Oh, NOW you remember who feeds you?!" Femi hissed.
The direwolf took a step forward.
Femi had two options, one throw Victim at it and run or two stand his ground and probably die.
Option one was tempting.
But...
With a shaky breath, Femi tightened his grip on his axe and slowly crouched, keeping his movements careful. He reached into his pouch and pulled out the last rabbit he'd caught, still whole and fresh.
Then, holding his breath, he placed it on the ground and nudged it forward.
The direwolf paused and sniffed.
Femi didn't move.
A tense silence stretched. Then..
The beast snatched the rabbit in its jaws, gave one last warning growl, and vanished back into the trees, melting into the shadows like an evil spirit.
Femi stayed frozen for a full minute before slumping to the ground, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Victim peeked out from behind him, tail wagging cautiously.
"You," Femi said, pointing a shaking finger at the pup, "owe me SO many rabbits."
Victim licked his hand.
Femi groaned.
How am I going to explain this to varga now.
------
Varga took the news exactly as Femi expected with a glare that could flay skin.
"what?" she hissed.
Femi rubbed the back of his neck. "I may have eh… bribed a direwolf, with a rabbit."
Varga pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of all the..." She cut herself off, muttering something about "starving predators."and "free meal" But when she looked up, her gaze was sharp. "Where exactly did you see it?"
Femi described the clearing, the wolf's size, The manner in which it approached him. Leaving out the part about victim. No need to tell her about his pet, just yet.
Varga's expression darkened.
"Direwolves don't move alone, there's probably a pack close by," she said. "If there's a pack nearby, we're doubling patrols." She turned on her heel, barking orders to the nearest watchers. "Post sentries along the western tree line. And someone tell ghon to check the fence."
"So… I'm not in trouble?"
Varga gave him a look that suggested he was absolutely in trouble. After a moment, she sighed.
"If that wolf comes back, you get away and call for help. We will handle it. Understood?"
Femi nodded hastily. Well, better than handling it himself.
---------
The next morning, Varga led Femi deeper into the woods,The snow crunched softly beneath their feet, the air thick with the scent of pine and frost.
"You'll learn to trap rabbits on your own today," Varga said, her breath misting in the cold, voice stead. "But it's not just about setting the snare. It's about understanding their paths, their habits."
Femi nodded, but a strange sense of déjà vu prickled at the back of his mind. Had he done this before?. Maybe in one of those fragmented dreams that slipped away the moment he woke.
As they walked through the forest, his mind drifted back to how he had bribed victim into staying put, just long enough to keep it from following him to this lesson.
That dog will need discipline soon,he thought. I can't keep feeding him like this. He's not made of rabbit meat. This extortion has to stop.With a quiet grumble, he adjusted his pace beside Varga.
After walking for a while, Varga stopped beside a young sapling, its trunk slender but strong. She bent it low, securing a cord with practiced ease. The noose lay flat against the ground, nearly invisible, anchored by a trigger twig, secured by a stake.
"A rabbit runs through, the noose tightens," Varga explained, flicking the trigger twig with her finger. The sapling sprang upward with a sharp whick, the imaginary prey yanked into the air. "Simple."
Femi studied it, committing each step to memory. But curiosity got the better of him. He leaned in, adjusting the noose and then his foot brushed the trigger.
Snap.
The noose clamped around his ankle, and before he could react, the sapling jerked taut. His legs flew out from under him, and he landed hard on his backside, the breath knocked from his lungs. Above him, the sapling quivered, the cord straining but Femi was far too heavy to be lifted.
Varga snorted. "Well, Now you really know it works."
Femi rubbed his ankle, scowling. "That wasn't funny."
Varga's smirk was infuriating. "Really? I found it very entertaining."
This woman.
After an hour of practice, Femi finally got the hang of it. But the real challenge, as Varga showed him, wasn't just setting the trap, it was finding the right place.
Finding rabbit trails was tricky, one had to look for things like nibbled plants, scattered droppings, faint disturbances in the snow and so on
Femi, though, he had an advantage.
His nose twitched. The musky, earthy scent of rabbit was unmistakable. He crouched, inhaling deeply, and the trail became as clear as if it had been painted before him. He followed it to a narrow run between two bushes, where the grass was worn thin from frequent use.
"Hello, rabbit, my best friend," Femi sang under his breath as he secured the snare, his claws deft on the cord. "I've come for you once again."
Varga watched, arms crossed, but there was approval in her eyes. "Good job. You've got the hang of this." She clapped him on the shoulder. "Now you can empty and set the traps yourself each morning."
Femi's tail flicked in satisfaction. Another skill acquired, another step toward surviving on his own. Even feeding that thieving wolf pup seemed plausible now.
Still, as they turned back toward camp, Femi cast a glance over his shoulder at the dark trees. Somewhere out there, a direwolf was probably watching.
And next time, it might not settle for a rabbit.