The relentless sun beat down as Leif returned, as midday approached. Reaching Erik, she nudged him with her boot. "Wake up, slacker."

  Erik stirred, slowly coming to. Sleep still clung to him, and a bit longer would have been a dream. Leif, meanwhile, was engaged in a heated conversation with Momo, the giant bird puffing out its feathers defensively. "Spineless fowl," Leif grumbled, her voice laced with mock-irritation. "Straighten up, or you'll end up a grand fuckin stew, understand?"

  A chuckle escaped Erik's lips. Serves Momo right, he thought, remembering the bird's earlier attempt at a bite.

  Leif, unfazed by his amusement, secured their gear onto Momo's back, fashioning a makeshift pack. "Looks like a long walk to the city," she announced, her tone gruff. "Maybe we'll find another traveler closer to civilization. Either way, this is going to be a slog. Let's get moving."

  The day stretched on, a relentless march punctuated by the rhythmic crunch of dirt beneath their feet. Sleep remained a distant memory, and Leif's disposition wasn't helped by her broken arm and general dislike for walking long distances. Every minor inconvenience drew a sharp response, and Erik kept a wary silence, trailing behind them both.

  Night brought an added bite of cold, making sleep a struggle for Erik. When dawn finally arrived, Momo and Leif were huddled together for warmth, leaving Erik to shake off the frost on his own.

  They continued their march, the midday sun high in the sky when they finally reached a river. Relief washed over them as the path widened, crisscrossed by the distinct tracks of wagons. The weariness of their journey hung heavy, and the thought of reaching the city, of finding comfort and rest within its walls, spurred them onward.

  The landscape shifted, rolling grasslands and remote forests giving way to fertile wheat fields. "Getting close," Leif announced, her voice gruff but a touch lighter. "Another full day's walk, and we should be there – barring any detours."

  Leif shifted her pack, wincing at her arm. The mud squelched underfoot with every step.

  "Ugh," she muttered, wrinkling her nose. "Looks like we both need a good scrubbing."

  They shuffled towards the riverbank, the setting sun painting the sluggish water in fiery hues. Leif stopped beside a gnarled, ironwood tree, its bark impossibly hard and rumored to be denser than bone when dried. She fumbled with Momo’s reins, her movements jerky with pain from her broken arm.

  “A little help here,” she snapped, frustration lacing her words.

  Erik approached hesitantly, his gaze flickering between her and the task. With a gentleness born of nervousness, he untied the knots, his touch barely brushing the torn fabric of her shirt.

  As Leif attempted to shrug the garment off, a grimace contorted her face. Dark sigils, like spiderwebs etched in ink, stood out against the pale canvas of her skin, a stark contrast to the toned muscles beneath.

  “I can do it,” she muttered, shoving Erik’s offered hand away. She kicked off her mud-caked boots and ripped the leather pants from her legs with a single, swift motion.

  The water beckoned, a promise of icy reality. Leif waded in, a hiss escaping her lips as the frigid current stole the warmth from her body. She plunged under, letting the water wash away the grime of battle, a gasp bubbling from her lips.

  Erik stood rooted to the spot, his gaze drawn to the warrior emerging from the water. Her long red hair, freed from its braid, cascaded down her back like a crimson waterfall. Shame burned in his cheeks. He shouldn’t be staring, shouldn’t be captivated by the sight. He tore his eyes away, focusing instead on the deepening shadows that stretched across the land.

  Leif surfaced, hair plastered to her face, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “What are you waiting for? The water won’t clean you itself.”

  Erik swallowed, stripping off his own sweat-soaked clothing, revealing the unassuming form of an average teenager beneath. He followed Leif into the river, the icy shock momentarily banishing the lingering heat of his forbidden glance.

  The chill of the water sent a shiver down Erik's spine as he hesitantly approached the bank. He fumbled with his clothes, his movements awkward as he tried to shield himself with his hands. Shallow and slowly stepping forward, he ventured into the river, teeth chattering in protest against the icy current.

  A sudden splash erupted beside him, sending a jolt through Erik. Leif, a mischievous glint in her eye, gleefully sloshed a wave of frigid water straight into his chest. With a startled yelp, his hands instinctively flew up, momentarily revealing more than he intended.

  A flush of heat flooded Erik's face, hotter than the sting of the cold water. He scrambled to submerge himself fully, the icy water stealing his breath away in a surprised gasp. "Damn that's cold!" he sputtered, surfacing with a scowl.

  Leif's laughter echoed across the water. "So," she taunted, sticking out her tongue playfully, "was that the first time you saw a naked girl?"

  Erik refused to meet her gaze, stubbornly keeping his eyes fixed on the opposite bank. "Yeah, so what?" he mumbled defensively.

  A playful glint flickered in Leif's eyes. She dipped down low, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper near his ear. "Aww, such innocence," she cooed, sending shivers down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

  Before Erik could even react, Leif shot out a hand, sending a playful shove that sent him tumbling backwards. He hit the water with a surprised splash, sputtering and cursing under his breath.

  "Not my type, boy," Leif called out with a teasing laugh, leaving Erik flustered and soaked in the middle of the river.

  Erik pointed excitedly towards the river, his gaze fixed on a flurry of movement near the bank. Tiny silver shapes flashed in the sunlight, their bodies breaking the surface as they leaped for unsuspecting insects. He looked at Leif, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "Dinner, maybe?"

  Leif considered this for a moment, a flicker of appreciation crossing her features. With a nod, she set about clearing a space near the fire, creating a makeshift drying rack for their clothes.

  Erik, clad only in his undergarments, waded into the shallows, his bow held taut in his hand. He scanned the water, his movements deliberate as he stalked his prey. After a tense few moments, the water erupted in a flurry of white as Erik released the taught string sending an arrow into the waters, a successful shot sending a shimmering trout flopping onto the bank. A grin stretched across his face as he repeated the process two more times, returning to Leif with a trio of decent-sized fish.

  Leif's eyes widened with genuine surprise at his success. "Well done, kid," she exclaimed, her rough expression softened for a moment. "Looks like we're eating well tonight."

  Erik, emboldened by her praise, ventured further into the brush bordering the riverbank. He returned moments later, clutching a handful of delicate green leaves and a section of peeled willow bark. He crushed the herbs and steeped them in a waterskin warmed over the fire.

  "Here," he offered, presenting Leif with a steaming cup filled with the amber-colored liquid. "This should help with the pain."

  Leif accepted the cup cautiously, taking a tentative sip. The bitter taste was surprisingly soothing. She raised an eyebrow at Erik, a new respect evident in her gaze. "Not bad, kid. Resourceful. Who taught you about collecting herbs and plants for medicine?"

  A wry smile touched Erik's lips. "My mother was an herbalist for the village. I helped her collect and make some simple teas, medicines, and how to prepare them for use, but I only learned the most basics." his smile changed to a frown, “My lessons stopped five winters ago.”

  “Sorry,” Leif said, shifting her gaze while taking a sip.

  The following morning, as the first rays of dawn painted the eastern sky, they rose from their makeshift camp, ready to continue their journey. Just as they were about to set off, a rumble echoed from the road behind them. A large wagon, piled high with golden wheat, crested a hill, drawn by a pair of clucks. Several figures sat perched on top, their faces etched with curiosity.

  Leif, ever the negotiator, engaged the driver in conversation. The exchange was brief, punctuated by a few tense moments where Leif had to physically restrain Momo from taking off after a particularly tempting crow. Finally, with a relieved sigh, Erik watched as Leif secured the monstrous bird to the back of the wagon. The farmer offered them a ride into the city. Erik and Leif shared a glance, a mixture of exhaustion washing over them as they climbed onto the wagon, heading towards the distant city walls.

  The outskirts of 3 River City unfolded before them like a humble tapestry. Small homes, freshly thatched and some even under construction, lined the dirt roads. Clucks, strained with the weight of wagons and carriages, hauling building materials and provisions. The air buzzed with activity.

  As they progressed down what seemed to be the main thoroughfare, the view broadened dramatically. A colossal stone bridge, spanning the vast river, dominated the landscape. The farmer pulled the wagon to a stop.

  "We walk from here," Leif announced, her voice firm. "Get the gear and Momo."

  Erik scurried to unfasten Momo's restraints. A glint of bronze caught his eye as Leif handed the farmer a bar and expressed her gratitude.

  They reached the bridge, where four guards stood vigil at the entrance. Clad in matching leather armor, emblazoned with blue and white shields, they held menacingly long spears. Leif marched them forward, her chin held high, refusing to acknowledge their scrutiny.

  Two guards definitely raised their checkered shields and lowered their spears, blocking their path. Leif's voice, though calm, held an edge of steel. "Move aside. I am with the Red Wolves." A snort of derision escaped one of the guards. Leif, towering over them, whipped back her cloak with a flourish, revealing a long gun strapped to her back.

  The laughter died in their throats. A flurry of apologies followed as the guards hastily stepped aside. Leif, with a triumphant nod, ushered Erik and Momo forward.

  Crossing the bridge, the stark contrast between the city's two halves hit them like a physical blow. Here, towering stone buildings rivaled trees in height, their facades grand and imposing. The bustling streets, paved with smooth stones, were teeming with life. Vendors hawked their wares - clothing, tools, exotic foods, and trinkets of every imaginable kind. Clucks, their calls echoing off the stone walls, weaved through the crowds, pulling carts laden with goods. Even though Erik has been here before it has been many winters when his mother was with them. The city and streets were much different than he remembers.

  Amidst the bustling streets, a half-constructed building stood out – a testament to the city's rapid expansion. Laborers toiled away, laying stones and unloading supplies, the rhythmic clanging of hammers a constant counterpoint to the commotion of city life. The sheer volume of sights, sounds, and smells overwhelmed Erik, leaving him struggling to keep up with Leif's purposeful stride.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  She navigated the crowds of people, Momo reluctantly trailing behind them, its head held high in a display of avian superiority. Finally, Leif stopped in front of a smaller building. Several clucks, their beaks twitching with boredom, were tethered nearby.

  "Finally!" Leif exclaimed, a hint of relief in her voice.

  The building, two stories tall and constructed of simple grey stone, held a freshly painted sign above the entry door. It depicted a fierce red wolf silhouetted against a black background – the emblem of the Red Wolves.

  Waving Erik to follow, Leif pushed open the creaky wooden door. The interior mirrored the exterior – bare stone walls and a worn wooden floor. A motley collection of furniture – a few mismatched benches, a rickety table, and a dusty counter – formed the sum total of their furnishings. A heap of rubble and discarded items occupied one corner, while a wooden staircase hugged the opposite wall.

  Erik and Leif stood for a moment, taking in the slightly depressing scene, until the sound of raised voices filtered down from above. The bickering escalated, punctuated by the occasional thump. Leif, her voice laced with amusement, bellowed upwards,

  "Hey, look who's here!"

  The arguing abruptly stopped, replaced by the creak of floorboards underfoot. Two figures descended the staircase, their expressions shifting from curiosity to suspicion as they saw their visitors.

  The first to appear was a tall and slender man, his build belying surprising strength. Long black hair cascaded down his back, framing piercing green eyes and pointed ears – the unmistakable mark of a Night Elf. He was clad in clean brown linen clothes, a long cloak draped over his shoulders. This was the first time Erik had ever seen a Night Elf, and he couldn't help but be awestruck by his height and otherworldly features.

  The Night Elf stopped short, his greeting to Leif dying on his lips as he noticed her injured arm. His gaze then flicked to Erik, his voice hardening. "Leif, welcome to the outpost," he started, only to be cut off by his own questions. "But what happened to you? And who is this, and what did he do to you?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing at Erik.

  The silence that followed the Night Elf's accusation was shattered by a booming voice that echoed through the room. "We'll get to that in a bit!" it roared.

  A figure emerged from the shadows at the top of the stairs. An imposing man, older and with dark skin, stood before them. His head was shaved bald, gleaming like polished obsidian, and a short gray beard framed his weathered face. He wore a long, dark robe, the red wolf emblem of the Red Wolves prominently displayed on the lapel. Scars etched a map of past battles across his face and head, but his posture radiated an aura of power that suggested he could still handle himself in a fight.

  "Adon," the man addressed the Night Elf, his voice firm but not unkind. "There will be time for answers later. These two have journeyed for days and are clearly in need of rest." His gaze swept across the room, landing on Leif's injured arm nestled in a makeshift sling. "And a healer," he added with a gruff nod.

  Before either of them could respond, Leif chimed in, her voice laced with exhaustion and a hint of longing. "A bath and some wine would be fantastic too!"

  The General, as his bearing suggested he was, inclined his head in Adon's direction and began his ascent back up the stairs. Adon, a flicker of understanding passing through his green eyes, turned to Leif and Erik.

  "You," he addressed Erik, his tone softening slightly, "get some rest. Tomorrow, we'll get a full debriefing from you both."

  Leif, eager to get settled, nudged Erik towards the door. "Go on, kid," she urged, a hint of her earlier hostility gone. "We'll meet you down at the inn."

  Following Adon's instructions, Erik found himself in a bustling inn across the street. On the second floor of the inn a room full of drunkards snore and toss on the bunks. Erik finds an open one and climbs in. Exhaustion finally claimed him.

  The next morning, Adon reappeared, looking less tense than the previous day. Erik sat quietly outside the inn on the steps as the morning crowds passed him by. He led Erik back to the outpost, directing him to wait on a lone bench while he disappeared back up the stairs. Moments ticked by, the silence broken only by the distant sounds of the city.

  Then, a voice pierced the quiet, sharp and commanding. "Let's go, kid," Leif called down from the halfway point on the stairs. Her tone was devoid of warmth, but Erik couldn't help but notice it lacked the hostility of the previous days.

  He followed her up the stairs, bracing himself for whatever awaited them in the empty room, now furnished with a simple table and a few chairs.

  The second floor room remained sparse, but a new figure now occupied a chair at the side of the table. A man with a round face, mirroring the shape of his torso, sat slumped in the chair, his long brown hair casting shadows over his unimpressed expression. Leaning casually against the wall behind him was a massive sword, its double-edged blade adorned with intricate dark sigils and runes that contrasted against the shiny polished metal.

  The General, his presence commanding the room, gestured towards a chair opposite the table. "Sit," he rumbled, his voice deep and gravelly. Leif stood at the back of the room, a stark contrast to her usual posture. Her arm, now secured in a proper sling, hung limply at her side. While the anger that usually burned in her eyes had dimmed, a flicker of defiance remained.

  The General cleared his throat, his voice filling the empty space. “First introductions, I’m Marcus everyone calls me the General, I’m the leader of the Red Wolves Hunter Guild. The hairy round man here is Adam, we call him the Colonel, he is the second in command. You briefly met Adon, our most experienced hunter." He nods to the dark elf. He looks back at Erik with a face void of emotions "Leif was dispatched on a mission to bring down the Chaos Bull that attacked your village and several other settlements and camps, Erik. Unfortunately, like what happens so often we hear about the attacks much later than needed to save most people. This is why we created the Guild outpost here so we could be closer and receive the information quicker. But, like what happened to your father, many others share the same fate,” A heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by Leif's sharp inhale.

  "However," the General continued, his gaze softening slightly, "Leif reports that you played a vital role in slaying the beast. She claims that without your intervention, she wouldn't have survived the encounter. We commend your bravery, young man," he rumbled, his voice sincere. "And offer our deepest condolences for your loss."

  A fleeting glance in Leif's direction confirmed that the General's assessment was accurate. Despite her usual gruff demeanor, a flicker of respect seemed to flicker in her eyes.

  "Additionally," the General continued, his gaze shifting back to Erik, "Leif informs us that you managed to strike a critical blow to the creature – an arrow to the eye no less." Erik, his voice barely a whisper, confirmed this with a small nod. He nervously fumbled with his backpack, finally retrieving his bow and a quiver of arrows.

  The General's eyes widened as he gestured for the weapons. Erik, hesitant at first, passed them over. The General and the man with the long brown hair examined them closely, their fingers tracing the intricate designs on the bow and the fletching of the arrows. Murmurs of appreciation and surprise filled the air.

  "This bow," the General rumbled, his voice filled with a newfound curiosity, "is of exceptional craftsmanship. The design matches those recently sighted near the Bridge of Traveling and the Guild City walls. They say it can launch a bolt with pinpoint accuracy for over five hundred lengths."

  He turned back to Erik, his gaze filled with questions. "Did your father have any dealings with the Guild?" he inquired. Erik, overwhelmed by the situation, simply shook his head.

  "He crafted weapons for them, that's all I know," Erik finally managed to stammer out.

  The General nodded slowly. "Yes, but there's more," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Your father was also deeply interested in the markings found on ancient artifacts. He was attempting to understand how these sigils were imprinted, with the goal of creating new artifacts." His gaze flickered to the large sword leaning against the wall.

  "And that," he continued, his voice low and urgent, "is not all. Your father was entrusted with a very special weapon – a gun with a large, looping lever. It is said to be of immense value, for the sigils inscribed upon it are unlike any other. He was dedicated to unraveling the secrets behind them."

  As if on cue, Erik reached into his pack and pulled out the broken gun, the dried mud-stained cloth falling away to reveal the strange weapon beneath.

  Adon, his brow furrowed in concentration, leaned close to the General, their conversation a low murmur. Erik shifted uncomfortably, the silence thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Adon straightened and turned back to him.

  "Leif claims you used that very weapon to finish the Chaos Bull," he stated, his voice neutral, but his gaze held a flicker of disbelief.

  Erik flinched, a vision of his father's furious face flashing before his eyes. "Y-yes," he stammered, "My father called it a cursed Abyssal." His voice dropped to a whisper, echoing the countless times his father had warned him about meddling in his work.

  The round-faced man finally spoke, his voice gruff and laced with disbelief. "You should be dead." The room fell silent once more, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

  Leif, unable to hold still any longer, shifted her weight, causing the aged floorboards to groan in protest. The General cleared his throat, his voice softer now. "That gun," he began, "has claimed the lives of all who have wielded it, and everyone attempting to get bonded by the runes died. How is it you did not succumb to the casting curse?"

  Erik stared down at his hands, his mind a whirlwind. A long moment passed before he finally met their gazes. "Nothing," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "There's… nothing special about me at all."

  Adon, sensing his reluctance, spoke up. "Silence can speak volumes, Erik. Did you experience anything… feel anything… when you used the gun?"

  Erik squeezed his eyes shut, picturing the chaos of the battle. Then, a chilling memory surfaced. He opened his eyes, staring at the rough wooden beams above. "I felt… nothing," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "Everything went blank. I don't remember shooting the beast at all."

  The General leaned back in his chair, one hand scratching at his short gray beard as he exchanged a troubled glance with Adon and the Colonel. Leif, however, broke the tense silence.

  "Your eyes!" she exclaimed. "They were jet black, and right before you pulled the trigger… you smiled. Same as that fuckin nightmare!"

  The General rose abruptly, holding out his hand to stop gesture to Leif, the other two men following suit. "Thank you, Erik," he said, his voice grave. "Please wait downstairs. We need to discuss this further."

  Erik nodded numbly and descended the creaky stairs. He could hear the muffled sounds of their conversation above, their voices laced with urgency, but the words themselves were lost to him. He replayed the sequence of events in his head over and over the past several days, but he had this gnawing feeling that he just couldn’t grasp.

  The sounds of their conversation grew faint, replaced by snippets of their individual voices.

  "There's no way he should be able to wield that gun," a gruff voice, the Colonel, boomed.

  "Two shots," another voice, presumably Leif's, spoke with a mixture of awe and horror. "It was a tough beast, but from what I saw, that gun could have ended it in one. It was…" her voice trailed off, replaced by a shudder. "…one of the most beautiful horrific things I've ever seen," she finished, her voice laced with a hint of morbid fascination. "It shattered the hide, cracked and burnt the core. I've never seen a cracked core.."

  The General's, cut through the conversation. "Thank you, Leif. Head into town, restock supplies, and get some rest."

  Leif's reply was a curt "Yeah, yeah," laced with a heavy dose of sarcasm. She descended the stairs a few steps at a time, then paused abruptly at the bottom. Without turning around, she cast a single glance back at the group, a head shake filled with unspoken frustration. Then, with a final, resolute storm out the door, she slammed the building shut behind her, leaving Erik alone.

  Adon's gaze flicked to the General, a silent question hanging in the air. The General, his weathered face etched with exhaustion, rubbed his eyes with a weary hand. "Yes," he finally rasped, "the moment he walked in, I knew."

  The Colonel, his voice a blurted eruption, exploded. "You're kidding me, right? Him?"

  A collective sigh filled the room, a heavy weight settling on their shoulders. Adon, sensing the rising tension, interjected, breaking the awkward silence.

  "Let's bring him in," he proposed, his voice measured. "Make him an asset of the Hunters' Guild. That way, we can keep an eye on him – guide him, not necessarily control him, but integrate him into the Guild. With the Guild's protection, it should keep the Church at bay. Or, we send him back to the Wilds north of the chasm."

  The Colonel sputtered, his voice laced with outrage. "Hell no! Send him to the Fog Pines!"

  Before he could elaborate, the General cut in, his voice low and firm. "No," he rumbled, a hint of defiance flickering in his eyes. "Not again. We, I mean, I will not shirk my responsibility again." He took a deep breath, his voice regaining its composure.

  Adon seized the opportunity. "Let me train him," he offered. "I can take him to the Island Nation, teach him how to hunt these nightmare creatures, all while instructing him in control."

  The General stroked his beard thoughtfully. "That has merit," he conceded. "But being a Hunter isn't for everyone and if the other Guild leaders find out who he is, it wouldn’t be good for us."

  "Then let's ask him," Adon countered. "We've been making decisions for this kid, since he was a baby. Let's hear what he wants, if it is his decision he will be much more likely to actually commit. If we force a young boy into this life it could backfire."

  A flicker of concern crossed the Colonel's face. "And if he decides something we don't like? Or if the Church gets their feathered hands on him. Or, if other guild leaders find out who he is. Or, if the Fuckin Wildling Queen comes looking for him!?" he questioned.

  The General's response was swift and unwavering. "We'll cross those bridges when we come to it. Not before. Adon, bring him back up."

  A curt nod from Adon, and he headed downstairs, reappearing moments later with Erik in tow. He gestured for Erik to sit back down, the weight of their unspoken decision hanging heavy in the air.

  Erik sank back into the chair, the Colonel's hostile gaze burning into him. It was a different kind of scrutiny now, not simple suspicion, but a simmering resentment. Erik swallowed hard, the weight of the unspoken conversation settling on his shoulders.

  "Erik," the General began, his voice surprisingly gentle, "we have a proposition for you." He paused, letting the words hang in the air.

  "The Red Wolves Hunters' Guild," Adon interjected, his voice steady. "We'd like to offer you an apprenticeship."

  Erik opened his mouth to speak, but the General cut him off with a raised hand. "This isn't a decision to be taken lightly, Erik. Joining a Guild is a lifelong commitment. There's no leaving, not unless you're carried out feet first. These creatures we hunt, they're vicious, relentless. Their destruction isn't just a task, it's a matter of life and death – not just yours, but for the people you'll be protecting. Failure isn't an option, your failure is shared by the dead. This path you choose, it'll define the rest of your days, until your final breath."

  Erik's gaze flickered across the faces of the three hunters. The scars etched onto their skin weren't just marks of battle, they were maps of hardship, of loss. He saw the weariness in their eyes, a shadow of battles past.

  Memories of his own ordeal flooded back – the suffocating weight of grief after his mother, the slow decline of his father, the fire that had finally consumed him. The pain, the anger, the gnawing despair – it had been a suffocating darkness. He wouldn't wish that on anyone.

  "No," he said, his voice surprisingly steady, "I wouldn't want anyone to feel what we went through." His soft, wandering gaze sharpened, focusing on the hunters with an intensity that mirrored a wolf locking onto its prey. "It would be an honor," he continued, his voice low and firm, "to join the Hunters' Guild."