“Still no sign?”

  Nieth looked sideways at him and rumbled.

  “No I don’t count smells. That could be miles away.”

  The Silvermane huffed.

  “Well, maybe when it’s more than just the two of us I’ll be willing to walk blindly into the wilderness on your say-so.”

  His companion pawed at the ground.

  “And if they have camouflage Skills? Tirwen said goblins were sneaky. It might not be one or two, it could be a whole group, and you're still limping no matter how much you try to hide it.”

  Neith hung her head and Ollie gave it a consolatory ruffle.

  “If we come across another one scouting alone, or even a pair of them, we'll take them on, but let's not draw attention to Tirwen's home when they haven't come looking yet.”

  It was strange. Four days ago he'd leapt in to save Neith's pack from extermination and killed a handful of the goblin tribe in the process - their adolescents if Tirwen was to be believed - but the goblins hadn't responded.

  He'd found a couple of lone greenskins ranging the forest when he'd been out hunting since then, and taken them down with a silent arrow from his salvaged bow, but the fierce reprisal Tirwen feared hadn't materialised. Yet.

  Yesterday, Neith, having communicated her acceptance of one of his name options, had joined him on the hunt for the first time, and was urging him to go on the offensive.

  She still hoped to rescue those of her pack the goblins had taken, though they both worried that some had been killed and eaten.

  Ollie wondered if he'd come to regret giving the wolf the choice of the ancient Egyptian warrior goddess as a name; she was already embodying it all too well.

  But right now she looked so dejected he could almost feel it. Maybe he could feel it.

  Damned [Bond: Neith].

  “Look, let’s find something for the three of you to eat first, and when we’ve bagged something big enough we’ll circle back in that direction and see what you’ve sniffed out. Deal?”

  Neith’s ears pricked up and he couldn’t help but smile as they set out.

  —

  Ollie felt Neith’s attention shift a split second before the Silvermane looked at him.

  “Where is it?”

  He kept his voice to a whisper, but even then he could feel the wolf’s frustration at the noise.

  Neith padded off to his right and he followed behind, his latest Skill, [Woodsman’s Trails], helping at least his feet pass without a sound as they found the surest path.

  The Silvermane led him further up the mountain they were slowly skirting, though after a few hundred yards the ground turned from hard to soft, and a musky, earthen scent began to pervade the air.

  Neith slowed, padding across fallen logs and rocks which protruded above the boggy ground, and Ollie copied her movements. By the time they reached an area where she deemed the surface suitable to walk on Ollie could hear what had drawn her attention from miles away.

  “Bloody hell. It sounds like a ringwraith on sixty a day.”

  The wolf looked back at him and he felt the sense or irritation coming through their bond. He raised a hand in apology.

  It was unnerving, though. The noise that echoed off the rocks would have done well in any horror film.

  Despite that, Ollie couldn’t shake a feeling of despair and sorrow, not from himself, but from whatever was making the sound.

  Regret and pride and resignation.

  Though it resonated through the forest, it took Ollie and Neith another half an hour of picking their way through the marshy undergrowth before they could finally see what was making it, and by the time they had it was almost too late.

  The elk was trapped up to its neck in a mire, but it was far bigger than any deer that Ollie had seen up close, with antlers that looked closer to stone than bone.

  It struggled against the cloying, sucking mud, then let loose another rasping, haunting call.

  Neith took an eager step forwards, and he could practically feel the salivation forming at the corners of her mouth, but her eyes weren’t on the sinking elk but another lying prone in shallower mud.

  The beast was clearly dead; part of its side had caved in and there were puncture marks in its hide, not to mention one of its antlers that was snapped off, and a great gouge down its face that had popped one of its eyes.

  It was a grim sight, but to the Silvermane it looked like breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next three days.

  “Well we didn’t need to be quiet after all.”

  Neith looked round in reproach.

  “Okay okay, I need to practice. Build good habits. You’re right.”

  Neith didn’t wait for his apology though, she was already creeping up to the dead elk, testing the firmness of the ground with each step.

  It didn’t take long for her to get close enough to latch onto a splayed-out leg, and begin to pull.

  Ollie almost shat himself when the animal began to buck and cry, flailing weakly as Neith dragged it back towards firmer ground.

  Okay, not dead then.

  The Silvermane kept pulling until all of a sudden she was darting up on top of it and sinking her teeth into its neck.

  Or at least, she tried to.

  She growled as a grating noise rang out over the distressed elk’s cries and her teeth skittered along its skin. Ollie could have sworn he saw some sparks flying.

  Undeterred, the huge wolf clamped her jaws firmly on the back of its neck and shook its head like a ragdoll until, with a final snap, something broke and the elk went limp.

  With a sense of satisfaction radiating off her, Neith resumed her dragging of the carcass until it was on firm land, but Ollie had long since glanced away from the gristly sight and had been captivated by the morose eyes of the still-sinking elk.

  It wasn’t hard to work out what had happened.

  Two male deer, engaged in a contest of strength, establishing dominance, sparring for the right to mate with a herd. Rampaging through this section of the forest - he could see freshly-felled trees all around. Stumbling into the softer earth of the mire. Not noticing. Sinking deeper as they fought, until the victor prevailed, only to find himself stuck. Consigned to a slow and ignoble death.

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  Shit, I can’t leave him like that.

  Ollie looked around. There wasn’t much to work with. He didn’t even have any rope.

  Forget what you don’t have, idiot. If you could just wish for things may as well go for a huge pump to fluidize the mud and let him swim out. What do you have…

  Trees. Branches and trunks. And a strong wolf who was at this moment crunching down on the leg of her prize.

  A rest for its head to start with, or it’s going to exhaust itself and drown before we can save it.

  He began picking up branches - the longest and lightest he could find and toss out around the creature’s head. If he got enough solid mass under its neck it could rest without fear of going under.

  “You need to calm down and gather your strength.” He told it as he lobbed the first ones under-hand onto the unsteady surface. “Hold on.”

  Neith looked at him and he could feel the question through their bond.

  “Hey, I helped save you and yours, now we’re both going to help save him.”

  A sense of apathy came from her, and his voice hardened.

  “Maybe I leave you to go after the goblins on your own then? Confident you can save what’s left of your pack by yourself?”

  The growl she gave wasn’t menacing towards him, but even so he felt an appreciative ripple of fear run down his spine. This was a creature that could end his life in a single bite. Even if he knew she wouldn’t.

  “Exactly. That’s what I mean. You’re part of a new pack now - you need to look out for more than just your own kind. You scratch my back; I’ll scratch yours… if you understand. No? How about this: I look after the injured until they can hunt for themselves, and you help me rescue this elk. That work for you?”

  He felt the grudging acceptance as Neith left the leg of the dead elk and began dragging branches closer. Leaving her to it, he turned to the elk.

  “Look, I don’t know how well you can understand me without a bond, but we’re going to try and get you out of there.” He tossed another handful of branches around its head. “Pull those together and rest up for a minute whilst we make a path. Don’t struggle; conserve your energy. You shouldn’t sink if you just lie still.”

  Assuming this isn’t some magical quagmire…

  Whether the creature got all of it he didn’t know, but once a bunch of wood had accumulated it scraped them into a pile and rested its head on them with an exhalation that oozed relief.

  “Neith, over here.”

  Ollie weighed up the height of a nearby tree versus its distance from the elk. It had a chunk missing from its trunk - a result of the elks’ duel - and if they could bring it down he was betting it would bridge most of the gap between them and the trapped beast.

  Directing the Silvermane to lean on the far side of it, Ollie reached up and pulled on a low-hanging branch until all his weight was on it.

  For long moments there was no movement, then he began to bounce in place, and the trunk began to creak.

  “In time with me, Neith.”

  With the wolf synchronising pushing her weight with his pulling, the creaks grew in size and frequency until, with a massive crack like a gun retort, the trunk snapped and the tree began to topple.

  It was all Ollie could do to give it a nudge in the right direction, but he heaved with all his might to direct it towards the elk, and with a thud that shook the earth beneath his feet the tree impacted the boggy ground, the topmost branches lashing the elk’s antlers.

  The beast lowed in distress and struggled in the mud but calmed when the fallen tree settled next to it.

  “Hey, that actually worked!”

  Neith gave him another reproachful look.

  “What? It wasn’t like we had many other choices, now come on and help me gather the larger branches so we can pack down a path in front of him.”

  The felled tree gave a solid surface for Ollie to walk across as he slowly but surely built a route to the elk. Each time he laid a section down he pressed on it with one foot to force it into the mud, and then laid another layer on top.

  How long it took he wasn’t sure - hours at least - but by the time he had a rough but sturdy path to the elk, the creature was leaning its antlers against the top of the tree trunk and chewing on a few leaves that were within reach.

  “Glad to see you’re having a nice break, but I’m going to need you to work a bit now.”

  He still wasn’t entirely sure how much the creature understood, but it left off munching down leaves and looked at him.

  “Good. Now, starting with one of your back legs, I need you to wiggle it until it gets loose.”

  He demonstrated with his own leg.

  The beast seemed to comply. Certainly the muddy water over its back was shaking.

  “That’s it. Keep going, and when you feel some room pull it up and try to move so it's in a kneeling position,” he bent his own, “and rest on it.”

  He wasn’t sure if the creature could manage to, but if it could spread its weight out, hopefully it could shuffle onto the improvised path he’d made, or at least get clear enough for him and Neith to drag it free.

  Step by step he coached it through his plan, shaking one leg free at a time until it was crouched higher up in the muddy bog.

  By now its back was clear of the filthy water, and it was reaching out to bite onto the branches of the fallen tree, straining to pull itself towards drier land.

  “That’s it!”

  Nervous about getting close to the massive antlers, Ollie swallowed his fear and reached out to help pull. His hands grasped onto the branching tines that felt more like stone than bone. He pulled firmly but gently, trying not to injure the beast, sending up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever had given him his Skills that the creature realised he was a friend.

  As the elk lurched forwards it front legs emerged from the mud with a wet schlop and scrambled for the path of thick-packed branches.

  It bucked and bellowed as Neith padded forwards along the track of branches.

  “It’s okay, she’s helping too.”

  The Silvermane had a thick chunk of wood clamped firmly in her teeth, and it took all the encouragement Ollie could think of to convince the elk to bite onto the other end so the huge lupine could add her strength to dragging him from the mud, muscles larger than he could ever hope to have straining against the weight of the deer.

  Once Neith was involved, the process was almost done, and with kicking and flailing limbs and snorts of desperation, the elk finally juddered onto firm ground and collapsed, flanks heaving with a mixture of exertion and fear.

  “There we go.” Ollie said as he flopped down next to the tree and tried in vain to wipe the mud from his clothes. “Easy-bloody-peasy. Now, let's just rest up a minute… I’ll wash later.”

  —

  A minute turned into an hour, although they weren't relaxing the whole time.

  “Honestly, it'll do you good. Just drink it.”

  If an elk could look sceptical, this one did, and Ollie couldn't entirely blame him. He'd fashioned a rough bowl out of bark and filled it with a bunch of ingredients that his [Forager's Instincts] told him were safe; he'd picked up a couple more Classes in the last few days, and [Woodsman] had become his highest one. The Skills he'd got from it rivalled, or perhaps exceeded his bond with Neith for usefulness.

  Having said that, it would have just been a bowl of nutritional swamp-soup had he not used [Brew Bestial Balm] to transform it into something more.

  The elk finally got a taste of the mixture and, realising it wasn't half bad, guzzled it down in seconds.

  “There. You'll see. You'll be fit and healthy again in no time. Now, how about we get you out of here safely and then you can go do whatever it is a victorious elk does.”

  He got a vague sense of acceptance and gratitude through his [Rudimentary Beast Speech], along with a lingering hesitancy towards Neith who was lying half a dozen yards away taking a nap, but Ollie realised he needed to do something before they left.

  “Uh - this might be a bit awkward, but the Silvermanes need to eat, and it's not like you two were friends, I assume. Circle of Life and all that you know. Maybe you want to wait over that way?”

  He gestured off towards the direction he and Neith had come from and waited for the elk to leave his line of sight before he turned to the dead carcass, one leg of which had been gnawed off by the wolf.

  “Well, this isn't going to be easy…”

  It turned out that no, trussing up a dead deer with skin as hard as stone that weighed a thousand pounds or more was not easy and, with the limited string Tirwen had fashioned him from stripped-down saplings, was essentially impossible. Even if you snapped the antlers off

  “I don't suppose you fancy dragging it?”

  Neith snorted.

  “I thought not. Best not to leave a trail back to the house either. We could bring the others up here to feed,” he waited for his companion’s grimace, “or we could see if our rescued friend is feeling grateful…”

  —

  Night was falling when a damp Ollie, struggling to carry a set of rocky antlers in both hands, Neith, carrying a leg of elk in her mouth, and a nervous elk, carrying its dead rival on its back, trudged down into Tirwen's hollow.

  “What took you so long?” The cervitaur [Hedge Witch] called out as they came round the side of her oak tree-house. “Don’t tell me: you found another injured bird this time, or were you just waiting until I'd finished preparing di-”

  She cut off as she saw the elk. Suddenly she was standing straighter and rubbing at the mushroom stains on her hands. Then she winced as she saw the dead one.

  “Really Ollie. I thought you had better taste than that.”

  For his part, Ollie stared, uncomprehending, until it hit him.

  “Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think. It wasn't us though! This one here,” he hucked a thumb at the elk they'd rescued, “I’m calling him Geb by the way, was clashing with the dead one. He’s the one that killed him, more or less. Rutting season I guess.”

  He recounted the tale as they settled the creatures. Tirwen's face softened, eyes darting occasionally to the living elk as Ollie wrangled the carcass off its back and rolled it with the help of Neith over to the rough woodshed-turned-den that the Silvermanes had claimed.

  As they retired for the night, and Ollie fed the blackbird with the sprained wing he’d brought in the previous day, he finished the tale and Tirwen finally relented.

  “Well that's different then. I mean, if you helped him...” She shot him a warning glare as she gazed out the window. “But make sure they don't eat him! He's the champion of his herd. A prime example of his kind…”

  Ollie glanced round at her and then stared closer.

  “Tirwen… are you… preening?”

  “...no!”

  [Beast Tamer Level 7!]

  [Skill - Soothing Voice gained!]

  [Bond - Geb gained!]

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