The riverside party blossomed to life as the villagers began trickling in. The Woogs brought an infectious energy, their chatter and laughter blending with the crackle of the fire and the gentle murmur of the river.

  Younger Woogs, particularly the girls, clustered around Kleo, wide-eyed and curious. They clung to her every word, soaking up the time and attention she offered so freely. Kleo, though overwhelmed, found herself charmed by their enthusiasm and the warmth of their adoration.

  The tantalizing aroma of fish sizzling over open flames filled the air, mingling with fresh herbs and spices. The smell alone tugged at her appetite, and Kleo smiled, knowing the meal would be as delicious as the aroma promised.

  Jack, meanwhile, had become the center of another small crowd.

  With a flick of his wrist, a coin vanished into thin air, only to reappear moments later from behind a young Woog’s ear. The children squealed with delight, jostling to be next in line for his tricks.

  Kleo watched him, marveling at his dexterity and charm. His knack for sleight-of-hand must have been a survival skill learned on the streets of Cabal, but here, it was a source of wonder and laughter.

  Kleo couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for him. Her heart swelled as she watched his animated expressions and the pure joy he brought to the children.

  When the food was served, Kleo savored every bite, each morsel a burst of new and exotic flavors. The pies the Woogs had brought were unlike anything she’d ever tasted—some sweet, some savory, all uniquely delicious. She sampled each one, delighting in the variety.

  Jack watched her with an indulgent smile, his eyes soft and affectionate as she relished each new taste. Her enjoyment seemed to please him more than his meal, and that small act of quiet devotion melted her heart.

  For a brief moment, a pang of homesickness washed over her. She longed for Jack to taste the flavors of Astiria, to see his face light up as he discovered the foods she had grown up with. The thought lingered, bittersweet, as she turned her attention back to the celebration.

  After the feast, the music began, and the Woogs, brimming with energy, pulled Kleo and Jack into the dancing. The rhythms were lively, the melodies infectious, and even Kleo, who often felt clumsy in such moments, was swept up in the joy of it all.

  To her surprise, Jack proved to be a natural. He moved with easy confidence, twirling her around and guiding her through the steps with patience and humor.

  The Woogs cheered her on as she stumbled through the dances, their laughter good-natured and warm. Each misstep met with encouragement, and by the end, she felt almost graceful—or at least not completely hopeless.

  As the night deepened, the younger Woogs began to nod off, carried home by their parents. The fire burned low, casting long, flickering shadows on the ground, and the laughter softened into murmurs.

  Kleo found herself sitting by the fire, watching Jack. He was in his element, moving among the Woogs, shaking hands, sharing jokes, and somehow remembering every name. He was magnetic, a natural at making people feel seen and valued, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  But with that love came a shadow, a creeping worry that took root in her heart. The thought of losing him, of something tearing him away from her, was unbearable. The mere idea sent a sharp and unrelenting pang of fear through her. She tried to push it aside, focusing instead on the warmth of the fire and the sound of his laughter.

  Yet the worry lingered, an unwelcome guest in her thoughts, lurking, waiting to resurface when she was alone.

  She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay in the moment.

  Rich and full of life, Jack's voice cut through her thoughts, drawing her back to the here and now. For tonight, at least, she would hold on to this happiness and love, letting it anchor her against the dark tide of fear threatening to pull her under.

  When the party ended, the clean-up began in earnest.

  The Woogs were gracious, showering Jack and Kleo with heartfelt "Thank you" and "Lovely to meet you," accompanied by hugs and waves of goodbye.

  The warm sendoff left Kleo smiling as she helped tidy up the area.

  Chief Harold, Chester, and Willard lingered behind to oversee the operation. While Willard gathered sacks of trash, the Chief and Chester pulled Jack and Kleo aside.

  “We were thinking,” the Chief began, “that you might be more comfortable staying with us in the village. While this is a wonderful spot, we have accommodations for travelers, and I feel confident speaking for everyone when I say you’d be most welcome.”

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  Kleo shared a quick look with Jack before replying.

  “Thank you. Staying in the village sounds wonderful, and we’d love to visit tomorrow. But tonight, Jack and I hoped to stay by the river. We’re, uh…newlyweds. Recent newlyweds,” she added, her cheeks faintly pink. “And we’d set our hearts on camping under the stars tonight.”

  The Chief and Chester exchanged knowing looks, each nodding in understanding.

  “Ah, of course, my dear,” the Chief said, his tone conspiratorial. “Newlyweds. Say no more. I was a newlywed once myself.”

  A dreamy expression crossed his face.

  “Chester here is still a bachelor—quite eligible, I might add. But one day, he’ll know exactly what we mean.”

  He winked at Jack and Kleo.

  “It’s settled then,” the Chief said. “Come by the village tomorrow. We’ll ensure you have a clean place to stay until you’re ready to continue your journey.”

  As the Chief turned to leave, Chester cleared his throat. With a sigh, the Chief turned back. He hadn’t wanted to alarm the pair, but Chester was insistent.

  “We don’t want to alarm you,” the Chief began, gesturing between himself and Chester, “but you should be aware of a lone wolf spotted several times in these woods. Most of the sightings have been to the south, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep your fire going tonight.”

  When the Chief hesitated, Chester stepped in, his tone grave.

  “I’ve seen it myself—three times. It’s enormous, as big as two wolves, and black as the night sky. Its eyes glow purple, and its heart is as dark as its fur. Don’t let it fool you—it’s no ordinary beast. If you see it, your best bet is to make for the village. There’s safety in numbers.”

  The Chief nodded, less dramatic about the matter but not dismissive.

  “Yes, it’s as corrupted a beast as I’ve ever known. Keep your fire burning, and you should be fine. We’ve got watchers on the village's southern edge, and if anything unusual happens, we’ll send word right away.”

  Jack and Kleo thanked them for the warning and the evening’s hospitality. They promised to visit the village in the morning and wished the Woogs a safe journey home.

  As the Chief, Chester, and Willard returned to the village, Willard looked up at Chester. “Why do you think they stayed at the river instead of coming with us?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

  Chester grinned, always ready to tease his brother. “They’re newlyweds, Willard. Jack’s got plans to do some personal gigging tonight.”

  The Chief shot Chester a sidelong glance, aware of where this was going, but he said nothing.

  Willard, oblivious, patted his belly contentedly. “Gigging? After all that food? How can he even think about catching fish?”

  “Oh, it’s not fish he’s after,” Chester said.

  Willard stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes. “Frogs, then?”

  Chester’s grin widened. “Not frogs either. He will be using his gig for…well, let’s say Miss Kleo is the night's catch.”

  Willard’s brow furrowed as he tried to piece it together. Finally, his face brightened.

  “Ohhh, I get it now.”

  The Chief sighed, glancing at Chester. “He doesn’t get it.”

  “Not even close,” Chester agreed.

  The trio continued walking in silence, the Chief shaking his head as Chester chuckled to himself. Willard trudged on oblivious, humming a cheerful tune as they returned to the comforts of their village.

  The Dark Wolf swept north, staying close to the riverbank, his immense black form a shadow in the night. He moved with a grace that belied his great size, his massive paws silent against the soft earth as he navigated the shoreline.

  From time to time, he stopped, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scents carried by the night breeze. The breeze flowed south toward his master's lair, but it brought tantalizing aromas back to him: fish, fire, and creatures.

  Each whiff stirred something profound within him, a faint flicker of the self he had once been. Beneath the oppressive corruption that darkened his soul, he still lingered. A shadow of his true self buried deep but not extinguished. In these fleeting moments, he could feel the monstrous magic that bound him and, with it, his hatred for that cunt of a Dark Witchwho had twisted him into this abomination.

  As the scent grew stronger, the wolf froze in the tall grass, every muscle taut. He listened, his ears swiveling, attuned to every rustle and whisper of the night.

  His keen senses painted a vivid mental map: a fading fire, embers releasing the last of their heat into the cool night air. The lingering aroma of cooked fish and the faint chatter of little creatures told of a gathering, now dissolved as the creatures retreated to their dens in the nearby hills.

  And then he sensed them.

  The humans.

  Their presence was unmistakable. Their scent mingled with the air, intertwined with the muffled sounds of their coupling. The wolf’s interest wasn’t in their mating rituals; such things meant nothing to him. He had known the bonds of the pack and the joy of siring strong pups. His pack had been magnificent, free, and bound by instinct and care. Together, they had hunted, played, and thrived.

  But now, they were gone. He was alone.

  The Dark Witch’s malevolence had seen to their destruction, twisting his mind and forcing him to kill those he had once loved.

  The memory of his claws rending flesh and the terrified eyes of his offspring haunted him, a nightmare that lingered even in the waking world.

  Hatred surged through the darkness in his heart, but a small part of him trembled somewhere beneath it—not with fear, but with a fragile, desperate hope.

  And now, here, he felt something else.

  The aura radiating from the camp was unlike anything he had encountered since his corruption. It was her—the woman. Her power pulsed with her breath, slow and steady, sending undulating waves that brushed against him.

  The force of it made him step back, his corrupted mind shivering under its weight. Yet within him, the sliver of his true self stirred, drawn to her strength. If there was any chance to end this torment, it lay with her.

  She could face the Dark Witch. She could destroy her.

  She could free me.

  The wolf blinked his luminous purple eyes, a soft growl rumbling deep in his chest. Then, with a final glance toward the camp, he turned and loped back into the forest's shadows. He would return, lure her to the witch, and allow her to undo what had been done.

  And perhaps, when it was over, he would find himself again.