I lunge, paws barely skimming the snow as I close the distance in a heartbeat. My fur bristles, my muscles coil, and then, impact.

  I slam into the creature's exposed flank, my claws raking against its body. A burst of golden stars follows immediately after, streaking through the cold air in arcs before exploding against its exoskeleton.

  The monster screeches, a guttural, piercing sound that rattles my bones. Its body whips around violently, its tail lashing out before I can react. Too fast.

  I barely twist away in time. The stinger hisses through the air, missing me by a whisker before slamming into the frozen ground, leaving a deep gouge where I had been standing just a second before. Too close. If I had hesitated even for a heartbeat, that would have been it.

  I don't get a moment to breathe. The beast lunges, its claws swinging toward me with terrifying force. I leap back, but the shockwave of its attack sends snow spraying into my face, blinding me for half a second, long enough for it to move again.

  The ground shakes beneath me as it closes the distance, snapping its pincers with a vicious crack. I dart to the side, my paws sliding slightly on the slick ice beneath the snow. My breath comes sharp and fast, the cold air burning my throat. It's too strong. I can keep dodging, but that won't last forever. One wrong step, one moment too slow, and it'll catch me.

  It swipes again. I duck, barely avoiding the crushing force behind its claws, but it's getting bolder, learning how I move. It knows I won't fight it head-on. It knows I can't.

  I skid backward, my paws kicking up loose snow. Another volley of Swift bursts from my fur, hammering into its hide, but the glowing stars barely leave a scratch. The creature doesn't even flinch.

  It snarls, its eyes burning with irritation as it scans the clearing.

  I grit my teeth, my mind racing. I can't keep fighting it like this.

  The clearing is too open. Here, it has all the space it needs to move, to lunge, to strike freely. I have nowhere to go. If I lose my footing once, if I don't see an attack coming, it'll crush me before I get another chance.

  I need to move the fight.

  I need to drag it into the forest, where the trees will limit its movements and where its size will work against it instead of in its favor. There, I can weave through the underbrush and use the uneven ground to throw off its balance.

  I leaped back toward the cover of the trees, sending another barrage of stars through the air. The projectiles explode against its armored plates, earning a furious growl.

  I strike again, darting between trees, pelting it with attack after attack, forcing it to focus on me. The air fills with its deep, guttural growls as it pivots sharply, its claws digging into the frozen ground.

  It moves.

  Faster than it should.

  It launches itself forward in a sudden burst of speed, its powerful legs closing the distance in seconds.

  I barely dodge in time.

  The ground explodes as its pincers crash into the earth where I stood, sending up a flurry of snow, ice, and shattered roots. The sheer force of the impact knocks me off balance, sending me stumbling.

  A second attack comes—quick, relentless. Its massive stinger lashes out, slicing through the air. I barely twist out of the way, feeling the sharp whoosh of air as the venomous tip passes inches from my fur.

  My breathing is ragged.

  I have never fought something like this before.

  The creature lunges again, snapping its massive pincers. I jump backward, but it's closing in too fast. The trees around us are thick, but it doesn't slow down; it barrels through them like they're nothing, shoving smaller trunks aside and shattering brittle branches beneath its weight.

  I can't keep dodging. I need a new plan.

  I flicker, my illusions activating. Three copies of me scatter in different directions. The creature hesitates, its eyes darting between them. It lets out a deep snarl, stepping forward cautiously, unsure which target is real.

  I use its hesitation to move, circling around. But it's smart—it's already caught on to my tricks.

  With a vicious swing, its massive claws tear through my illusions, dispelling them instantly. Then it charges forward, completely undeterred.

  I run.

  The creature is faster than I expected, but it's also reckless. It barrels through obstacles without thinking, destroying everything in its path. That gives me an advantage.

  I twist sharply through the trees, zigzagging through the thick underbrush, leading it into the most tangled, uneven terrain I know. I flicker another illusion—a false version of myself dashing in the opposite direction.

  The creature lunges at the fake, slamming headfirst into a thick tree trunk.

  The crack of wood splitting fills the air.

  It staggers, momentarily stunned.

  Its movements become wilder, more erratic. It lunges at every shadow, snapping at nothing, slamming its claws into the ground in blind frustration. Snow and ice fly in every direction, but it's missing.

  I have the advantage now.

  I let it wear itself out, dodging when needed and keeping my distance when I can. I bait it into striking at illusions, making it expend energy on nothing.

  A single mistake.

  I slip.

  My paw catches on a root, just for a second, but that's all it needs.

  The creature lunges forward with impossible speed, and suddenly, I see nothing but darkness as its shadow looms over me.

  I barely roll aside as its jaws snap shut where I had been.

  A sickening crack fills the air as its pincers crush stone, reducing it to dust.

  I should be dead.

  The sheer force of the attack sends a tremor through my body. For the first time in this fight, I feel fear.

  I need to end this quickly.

  I bolt again, leading it toward the only place left to go. The chase has pushed us to the outskirts of my territory. The trees thin out ahead. Too thin.

  My stomach drops.

  A cliff.

  The ground ends.

  A sheer drop yawns before me, a river far below, roaring and churning through the frozen valley. No escape.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  I skid to a halt at the very edge, my claws scraping against the ice-covered rock.

  The creature doesn't stop.

  It's too enraged, too focused on killing me to notice what's ahead.

  I only have seconds.

  I flicker an illusion; a small part of the forest continues past the cliff's edge.

  The creature charges.

  Straight into nothing.

  For half a second, it seems almost triumphant.

  The ground disappears beneath it.

  A screech tears through the air as the creature plummets.

  A second later, a clamorous splash.

  Silence.

  I stand there, legs shaking, chest heaving. My breathing is ragged, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. My limbs tremble with exhaustion, but I am alive.

  I stare down at the ravine, waiting to see if it surfaces and climbs its way up. But nothing, just the roaring of the deluge. I steady my breath, willing myself to calm down little by little until I remembered something else.

  The human.

  I force myself to turn, my movements sluggish. Each step through the trees feels heavier, my fur still bristling with lingering adrenaline. The creature is gone, its scent fading into the cold air, but the fight still pulses through my veins.

  I should leave.

  But their scent is still strong, still here.

  They haven't fled.

  They should have.

  I expected them to run, to disappear into the wilderness, to become just another memory. But instead, they're still there, sitting just inside the cave, arms wrapped tightly around themselves. Shivering.

  I slow my approach, ears flicking forward. Their breathing is unsteady. Shallow.

  For a moment, I hesitate.

  I should drive them out. They don't belong here. They are weak and vulnerable.

  But I don't.

  Something twists inside me at the sight of them curled in on themselves, their limbs trembling against the cold. A flicker of memory stirs, one I don't want.

  I scowl, shaking it off. It doesn't matter.

  I take a step forward.

  The human flinches but doesn't move.

  They just… stare.

  Their blue eyes lock onto mine, frozen like prey caught in a predator's gaze. But it's not the raw, frantic fear from before. It's quieter now.

  Uncertain.

  I study them, taking in the faint tremor of their hands, the way their shoulders hunch forward, the tension still lingering in their posture. Their clothes are dark, patched, and worn thin.

  And then I notice.

  The swollen purple skin looked ready to burst. The slightest pressure causes immense pain in human.

  Their leg is broken.

  That's why they haven't run.

  That's why they're still here.

  A sharp gust of wind howls through the clearing, and the human shudders violently, curling in on themselves. Their breath comes in weak, uneven bursts, misting the frozen air.

  I should leave them.

  Let nature decide.

  But I don't move.

  Our gazes hold, golden meeting blue, as silence stretches between us.

  Their jaw is clenched tight, their fingers digging into the fabric of their coat, like they're trying to will themselves to move, to fight back against the reality of their own weakness.

  They can't.

  And I shouldn't care.

  But a broken leg in this cold? They won't last the night.

  I exhale sharply and step forward.

  The human tenses, fingers tightening, expecting a blow.

  I lower my head, sniffing cautiously near their leg. They stiffen, sucking in a sharp breath, but I ignore them.

  It's not just broken, and it's swelling. Badly.

  They won't be walking anytime soon.

  "Please… no."

  The voice is weak, barely a whisper against the wind.

  I ignore it.

  Instead, I turn, lifting my nose to the air. The large creature's presence lingers, thick with venom and rage, but it is fading.

  I flick my tail once against the ground, exhaling in frustration. I could leave them. I should.

  But I don't.

  I dart off into the trees, ignoring the way my instincts snarl at me to stop. Their breathing is shallow and strained. Every inhale hitches like it takes too much effort.

  They don't call out, not that I would have stopped if they had.

  Whiteroot.

  That's what my father called it. It grows beneath strong trees, hidden under frost. Its leaves are tough, but the bulb inside holds the medicine. Bitter. Sharp. But it soothes pain, eases breathing, and helps swelling go down.

  I've used it before. Pressed its pulp against bruises when I needed to. Just like my father showed me, the sting fades quickly.

  Humans call it something else, I think.

  I find a patch near a gnarled tree, the frost clinging stubbornly to the roots. I bite down carefully, plucking one from the earth. Then another. Then a third, just in case. The bulbs rest between my teeth as I turn back toward the cave.

  By the time I return, they haven't moved much.

  They've shifted slightly, one arm wrapped around their ribs. Their body curled in an instinctive attempt to protect themselves from the cold. Their breath is still uneven. Shaky. Not enough to kill them, but enough to make every moment miserable.

  I drop the whiteroot beside them.

  They blink at me, confused. Wary.

  I nudge the plants toward them, my meaning clear. Use them.

  They hesitate. "I don't…?"

  I huff and step back, tail flicking in irritation. I am not going to sit here and explain it. If they don't understand, that's their problem.

  Still, they hesitate, fingers twitching before they pick up one of the roots, turning it in their grasp. Uncertain.

  With a grunt, I lean forward, take one between my teeth, and bite down.

  The bitter scent floods my nose, sharp and familiar. I squeeze, forcing the thick juice to seep out onto my tongue, then spit the crushed pulp onto the snow in front of them.

  Then I stare at their leg.

  Their fingers tighten slightly around the root. They blink at me. Then, slowly, they press it against their skin.

  At first, nothing.

  Then a sharp inhale. A shudder as the juice seeps in, burning before the relief settles in. Their shoulders tense, their fingers trembling as the first sting of the medicine spreads through them.

  I know that feeling well.

  A slow exhale escapes them. The worst of the pain is already fading.

  Good.

  I flick my tail and step back. They will live.

  Probably.

  The human lets out a shaky breath, shoulders sagging as exhaustion weighs them down. Their blue eyes, dulled with fatigue, flicker toward me. Searching.

  I hold their gaze.

  They look lost, not in the way of creatures who have wandered too far from home but in the way of something that doesn't know where home is.

  They will not last the night out here.

  I glance toward the sky. The light is fading. The wind is shifting. The cold will settle in. The bruising will worsen. If something else wanders through, they won't be able to run.

  I take a slow step back. Then another. I turn toward the forest.

  My cave is not far. It is small but safe. Sheltered.

  I look back at them.

  They shift, wincing, fingers curling into their coat. They are trying. But they won't make it much farther.

  Something in my chest tightens, something close to pity, but not quite.

  I step closer and nudge their arm, careful but firm.

  Come with me.

  They flinch but don't pull away. Just stare, confused.

  I nudge them again. This time toward the trees. Toward my cave.

  They hesitate. "…You want me to follow you?"

  I only flick my tail and take a few steps forward, slow enough for them to understand.

  For a long moment, they just sit there, fingers twitching. Then, after a pause, they brace a hand against the ground and push themselves up.

  Their body trembles. Their legs are unsteady, but they don't stop.

  I wait.

  Then, I turn toward the trees, leading them forward.

  The wind howls through the branches as we walk, their footsteps slow and dragging behind me. I glance back once. They stumble but don't fall.

  Their breath is sharp, forced through clenched teeth. They are struggling.

  I slow my pace just enough that they don't fall too far behind.

  At the entrance to my cave, they hesitate, eyes flickering toward me.

  I don't say anything. I just step inside and curl my tail around myself.

  A few moments pass. Then, slowly, they follow.

  Silence settles between us.

  Their breath evens out. Their body slumps against the wall.

  "…Thank you," they whisper.

  I don't respond.

  I only close my eyes, listening to the wind.

  For now, they are safe.

  For now, I will let them stay.