I gazed into the wolf’s eyes as he stared into mine. I could feel the exhaustion in both of us.

  “Leave,” I said softly. “What’s the use of catching prey if it'll cost you your life?”

  Looking back, I still wonder why I spoke to him like that. A wolf can’t understand human words—or can it?

  Sigh.

  Clank! I dropped the stick.

  The other wolves, now slowly waking up, rose to their feet. But instead of attacking, they followed their leader… and left me in peace.

  ---

  The path home was rough. Our house sat deeper into the forest, near the waterfall. There was a main road that was safer—but taking it would triple my travel time. So I stuck to the shorter, more dangerous route where I often encountered wild beasts. Most days, I could avoid them. Today wasn’t one of those days.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The wooden door creaked as I pushed it open. I slipped inside and shut it gently behind me, hoping not to wake my father.

  “Welcome home, Morgan,” came his voice from the chair in the corner. “What took you so long?”

  “Father… I, uhh…”

  My fingers tapped nervously against my thighs. “I was helping an old man with something.”

  He chuckled. “I was your age once. I wasn’t half as bad a liar as you.”

  I sighed. “Dad…”

  “Your food’s on the table, kid.”

  There was no point trying to hide anything from him. I grabbed my bowl and sat beside him.

  “How was work?” he asked.

  “…It was okay,” I muttered, tightening my grip on the bowl and staring into the stew like it held the answers to my anger.

  “You cause trouble? Or were you sacked?”

  “No, it’s just…” I paused. The words boiled in my chest.

  “The demigods are pushing us too far! It’s like they want us to submit! Why won’t the village elders fight back? Why won’t we go to war?”

  He said nothing at first, just chewing the last bite of his meal. My father was a calm man, almost too calm—but in moments like this, his silence said more than words.

  “They’re not gods,” he finally said. “Just men who’ve stolen power and dressed themselves like gods.”

  His gaze turned sharp. “Listen, Morgan. If they attack—defend. But don’t start a war. You wouldn’t understand, not yet. Words never get through to you, only action… but listen anyway: war isn’t something you need to experience to know it’s hell.”

  There was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. Pain. Real pain.

  My father was a veteran. He fought in the first resistance against the demigods, until a battle injury ended his time on the field. You’d think I’d listen. But I didn’t.

  I was blind—blinded by inexperience, hatred, and pride.

  I should’ve listened then.

  I should’ve spent more time with him.

  That night, the wizards attacked. The village fell.

  I barely escaped.

  That’s how I ended up in the cold of the waters—adrift, broken, alone.