Kuro and Fenric started their trek into the woods, leaving Beretta and the relative safety of Master Evandrous's estate behind them. The morning had begun clear enough, but already the sky was changing, clouds gathering with unnatural swiftness.

  Fenric felt a growing unease settle in his chest as he walked through the darkening woods. His instincts, honed over years of survival, whispered warnings he couldn't quite name. Beside him, Kuro moved with unwavering focus, his pale eyes scanning the treeline for any sign of movement, utterly unbothered by the shifting weather or the oppressive silence that had fallen over the forest.

  As they ventured deeper, their pace began to slow. The snow that had seemed like a light dusting near the village grew deeper with each step, until their feet sank past their ankles with every movement. The density of it transformed each stride into an effort, and Fenric could feel his muscles working harder just to maintain their forward momentum.

  "Kuro," Fenric called out, his breath misting in the suddenly frigid air. "I don't like this. We can't fight properly in snow this deep. And look at the sky—it was sunny just moments ago, but now I can't even tell which direction the sun was. The clouds are too thick." He paused, tail swishing anxiously through the snow. "It's best we turn back and wait at Master Evandrous's house. What do you say... Kuro?"

  The swordsman walked several paces ahead before responding. "Hm?" He glanced back, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Oh, sorry. All I heard was some noise coming from you. What was it again?"

  Fenric's face fell, his ears drooping slightly. "Ahh, it's nothing," he muttered, more to himself than to his companion. "We're a team now. I have a say in this too, you know." The words came out barely above a whisper, tinged with frustration.

  "What?" Kuro had already turned back to the path ahead.

  "Ha! Nothing, don't worry. I'm just babbling." Fenric quickened his pace to keep up, his boots crunching through the deepening snow.

  "Just hurry up," Kuro said flatly. "The sooner we finish this, the better."

  "Yeah, yeah," Fenric grumbled. After a moment of silence broken only by the sound of their trudging footsteps, he asked, "These korgul—do they at least taste good? Might as well get something out of this hunt."

  "Nahh," Fenric replied with a shake of his head. "They're known for having disgusting meat. It's edible, technically, but no one eats them by choice."

  "Tch..." Kuro's disappointment was evident even in that single sound.

  A knowing smirk crossed Fenric's face. "You're getting hungry, aren't you?"

  "No. Why would you think that?"

  "True, I can't read you like I can read others, but I know humans well enough. Haha!" Fenric's laugh echoed through the trees. "It's your own fault for getting ready so early in the morning for what should have been a low-level quest. We could've eaten something substantial, but no—" he adopted a mockingly serious tone—"'we have to hurry, I have to reach the Second City, there's no time,' and—"

  Kuro stopped walking abruptly and turned to look at Fenric.

  "W-what?" The half-beast took an involuntary step back.

  They stared at each other for a long moment, Kuro's pale eyes studying Fenric's face. "You must be really hungry, huh?"

  "Huh? Well, I..." Fenric's stomach chose that moment to growl audibly. "Yes. Very."

  "Good." Kuro resumed walking as if nothing had happened.

  "Wait!" Fenric called after him. "Don't you feel even a little sorry for me and my poor, aching tummy?"

  Without looking back, Kuro replied, "Well, if you don't smell them out quickly, I might have to use you as bait to lure them in. They hunt animals mostly, right?"

  "You heartless bastard!" Fenric shouted, though he couldn't suppress a slight grin despite his indignation. "Fine! The sooner this ends, the sooner I can eat."

  He drew a deep breath and used his full potential to pinpoint the scent of korgul, his enhanced senses spreading out through the frigid air. He sniffed methodically, scanning in all directions, nose working overtime despite the cold. But instead of the musky, distinct odor of korgul, he detected something else—something that didn't quite fit. It was faint, almost masked by the snow and pine.

  "I've got nothing," Fenric admitted reluctantly. "Maybe this weather is hindering my sense of smell. Everything's... muted. Wrong, somehow."

  "Gods, you're useless," Kuro remarked without heat.

  "Hey now!" Fenric protested. "Did you forget it was me who found that sword of yours? Huh? Mosvmora wouldn't be in your hands if not for my tracking skills!"

  "Whatever," Kuro said dismissively, though there might have been the ghost of amusement in his tone.

  They pressed onward, moving deeper and deeper into the Whitewood. The trees grew sparser, their branches bare and skeletal against the darkening sky. Finally, they emerged into a clearing—though "clearing" was perhaps too generous a word. It was more an absence of living trees, dotted here and there with dead timber standing like grave markers in the snow.

  The snowfield stretched before them, pristine and unnaturally deep. Both Kuro and Fenric found themselves buried past their knees, with Fenric's bushy tail unconsciously sweeping back and forth, creating small furrows in the white expanse behind them.

  Both of them were slightly out of breath from the difficult trek. Kuro paused to survey their surroundings. "Can you see anything? Smell anything?"

  "No. Nothing. Nada," Fenric replied, his frustration evident. He turned in a slow circle, ears swiveling to catch any sound. "See? This is a waste of time. They're probably hiding somewhere else, or—" his eyes widened with sudden worry—"oh shit, what if they circled around us and went to the village? What if they're attacking even as we stand here?"

  "No." Kuro's voice was certain. "They're here."

  "Huh? How can you possibly tell? Even I can't—"

  "Look." Kuro nodded his head forward, his hand resting on Mosvmora's hilt.

  "Hm? What do you mean?" Fenric jerked his face in the direction Kuro indicated. He had to squint against the reflected glare of snow, but then he saw it—in the distance, perhaps fifty yards away, a single figure stood watching them. It was smaller than a regular-sized pig, with snow-white fur that blended almost perfectly with its surroundings. Only the darkness of its eyes and the four distinctive tusks protruding from its mouth gave away its presence.

  "Wait, is that—yes! That's a korgul!" Fenric's relief was palpable. "Fewww, finally! But now comes the tough part—killing them. Slippery bastards, korgul are."

  Kuro didn't waste time with words. He moved swiftly through the thick snow, his movements economical and purposeful as he closed the distance. His hand wrapped around Mosvmora's hilt, and he drew the blade with a whisper of steel. Let's see how you cut now, he thought, remembering the sword's performance in the Tall Forest.

  The korgul didn't flee. It simply stood there, watching, waiting. When Kuro was close enough for a deadly strike, he pulled the sword back and swung with precision and force.

  The korgul dove into the snow at the last possible instant.

  The blade cut through empty air, and the creature vanished, leaving only a small, innocuous hole where it had been standing.

  Fenric arrived moments later, panting from the exertion of moving through the deep snow. "Did you get it?" He looked around, then noticed the absence of blood, of a body, of any evidence of a kill. Just that small depression in the snow. He turned to tease his partner about the miss, but the words died on his lips when he saw Kuro's expression.

  "Uhm... are... you... alright... Kurrro?" Each word came out carefully, uncertainly.

  Kuro stood absolutely still for a moment, his jaw tight, before forcing his posture to relax. "Yes," he replied, though his tone suggested otherwise. He was furious—furious that he had missed his first true swing with Mosvmora. The sword had felt perfect in his hands, had moved through the air like an extension of his will, and yet his target had escaped.

  "This is what you meant by slippery?" Kuro asked, his voice carefully controlled.

  "Yeah, but..." Fenric's brow furrowed. "I've never seen them dive into the snow like that. Usually they just dart away. This is... different."

  They stood in the middle of the snowfield, the dead trees like silent witnesses around them. Kuro began to scan their surroundings more carefully, and that's when he noticed something wrong. The path he and Fenric had taken to reach this spot—the tracks they'd left in the deep snow—were gone. The surface was smooth, pristine, as if no one had walked there at all.

  What the...

  "What? What happened?" Fenric tensed immediately, ears perked, picking up on Kuro's sudden alertness.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Then the korgul began to emerge.

  One by one, they rose from the snow itself, breaking through the surface in a wide circle around the two hunters. Their white fur was perfect camouflage, and the red of their eyes seemed to glow in the dimming light as storm clouds gathered overhead.

  "You gotta be kidding me," Fenric breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He started counting, his finger marking each beast as he tallied them. "One, two, three, four, five, six..." His voice rose with each number. "Wait—fifteen?! What the hell! Kuro, did the poster mention how many of them there were supposed to be?"

  "No," Kuro replied, his hand tightening on Mosvmora's grip. "By the poster's description and Master Evandrous's explanation, I assumed five to six at most." He paused, reassessing the situation with cold calculation. "Wow. I can't believe Sir Evandrous lied to us. Nahh—it's probably that Nina brat's fault. I'm sure of it."

  "Ha! Look at them, standing there watching us!" Fenric's bravado was slightly forced. "You don't scare us just because there are more of you! You're still just korgul! Right, Kuro? Kuro, what do you say? You're awfully quiet..."

  "I don't like this."

  "Dude, yes, they're more than we thought, but they're still just korgul—"

  "Hm. Maybe." Kuro's eyes hadn't left the circle of beasts. "But I thought they were supposed to be dumb."

  "Yes, one hundred percent! Korgul are notoriously stupid."

  "Then explain this situation to me."

  "What about it?" Fenric looked around, confused.

  "You're quite dumb for a half-beast, you know that?"

  "What was that?! Dumb?! Me?! The great Fenric Howlstone?!" He sputtered indignantly. "You just hurt my pride! Just what exactly am I not seeing that you can see, eh?"

  Fenric opened his ember eyes wide, really looking at their circumstances for the first time with a tactical mind rather than a hunter's instinct. They were surrounded, yes, in a perfect circle, but... His eyes widened further as realization dawned. "Wait... they're surrounding us, but..." He thought back to their arrival at the clearing. "That single korgul that first appeared—did that pig lure us into this opening?"

  "Fucking finally," Kuro muttered. "Is your hunger hindering your mind, or what?"

  "Sorry! I can't believe I missed that!" Fenric's tail lashed anxiously. "But you're right to be suspicious. They shouldn't be this clever. Something's not adding up—"

  In a swift, coordinated movement that no simple korgul should have been capable of, every beast in the circle started sprinting toward them simultaneously. Their movement was eerily synchronized, practiced, intelligent. They closed the distance with frightening speed, snow spraying up behind them as they charged.

  "Shit!" Fenric screamed.

  "Fenric."

  "Huh?!"

  "Jump when I tell you. No questions. Just jump." Despite the danger—or perhaps because of it—there was something in Kuro's voice that suggested he was finally enjoying himself, even if his face remained impassive.

  Fenric noticed it too, that subtle change in his companion's demeanor. "Yes!" he answered, crouching low, muscles coiled and ready.

  The korgul closed in, their tusks gleaming, their red eyes fixed on their prey. Kuro gripped Mosvmora with both hands, the black blade seeming to drink in what little light remained, and waited. Patience. Timing. Everything depended on timing.

  "NOW!"

  Fenric launched himself upward with all the strength in his powerful legs, rising high into the air.

  The korgul came together where their targets had been standing a heartbeat before, a converging mass of fur and tusks and murderous intent. But Kuro had not jumped.

  He pivoted, bringing Mosvmora around in a perfect horizontal arc.

  The blade sang through the air, and the air itself seemed to whistle in response. In one smooth, circular motion, Kuro cut through the charging beasts. Mosvmora passed through flesh and bone as if they were nothing more than morning mist—the sword's supernatural sharpness evident in how little resistance it met.

  The korgul didn't even have time to scream.

  Fenric landed in a crouch several feet away and watched, stunned, as the carnage resolved itself. Body parts fell one by one—heads separated from necks, bodies split along perfect lines, all dropping into the crimson-stained snow that had been white just seconds before.

  "Holy moly... did that just happen? Ha! Ha! Look at you now, idiots! Trying to act smart—that's what you get!" Fenric's relief came out in slightly hysterical laughter.

  But Kuro was not celebrating. He stood amid the circle of corpses, Mosvmora held loosely in one hand, and his expression was one of... disappointment? "That's it?" he muttered. "All that buildup for this? Hmm..."

  Then, suddenly, impossibly, the korgul bodies began to sink.

  One by one, they were pulled down into the snow as if the earth itself was swallowing them. Kuro and Fenric watched in horrified fascination as the corpses disappeared, leaving only the blood-stained snow as evidence they had ever existed.

  Fenric started to sweat despite the cold. "What's going on? It can't be... I mean, it's not possible..." His voice trembled with dawning understanding and dread.

  Kuro glanced at Fenric's panicked expression, utterly unbothered by the supernatural display before them. He turned back to face the empty clearing, adjusting his grip on Mosvmora, ready for whatever came next. A small, satisfied smile touched his lips. "That's more like it. It seems there's more to this hunt than we thought."

  After a tense moment of silence, a single korgul emerged from the snow. Its white fur was matted and dark around its muzzle, and when it opened its mouth, blood—fresh blood—dripped from between its four tusks. It had been feeding. Feeding on its own kind.

  "Wait," Kuro voiced what they were both thinking. "Did they just... eat one of their own?"

  Thunder rumbled overhead. The storm had been building unnoticed during their confrontation, and now the snow began to fall heavily, thick flakes that quickly obscured visibility. The temperature dropped further, and with each passing second, more snow accumulated on the ground, adding to the already treacherous depth.

  Kuro felt a thrill of anticipation rather than fear. His sword had performed perfectly—it cut sharper and smoother than even during that desperate fight in the Tall Forest. This was what Mosvmora was meant for. This was what he was meant for. He settled into a ready stance, prepared for the next round.

  The blood-soaked korgul dove back into the snow and vanished.

  "Let's see how many of you are going to emerge this time," Kuro said softly, almost eagerly. He was so focused on the anticipated battle that he failed to notice something crucial: the battle marks from moments before—the blood, the disturbed snow, the evidence of fifteen dead korgul—had been completely erased, the snowfield pristine once more, as if nothing had ever happened.

  Kuro waited, muscles tensed, for the next wave to show themselves.

  "TO YOUR RIGHT LEG!" Fenric's shout cut through the howling wind.

  Kuro reacted on pure instinct, not questioning, not hesitating. He drove Mosvmora straight down near his right leg, plunging it into the snow.

  Blood sprayed upward, painting the white snow crimson. The blade had connected with something solid beneath the surface. Kuro's eyes widened in surprise as he felt the impact travel up through his arms. What's happening?

  "They're attacking from inside the snow!" Fenric shouted over the building storm. "They can run smoothly enough beneath the surface that they don't break through—not even a tremor, not even a ripple! You can't tell by looking where they are unless you have exceptional hearing!"

  A blur of motion streaked past where Fenric's legs had been just a moment before. He had jumped at the last possible instant, the creature's tusks missing him by inches. He landed several feet away and continued, his voice urgent and strained: "You could be dead before you even realize they're attacking!"

  And then the true assault began.

  "Left! Right! Left! Left!"

  Both of them were in constant motion, jumping and slashing based on Fenric's frantic directions. There was no time to breathe, no time to think—only react. Kuro did his best to kill the creatures as they emerged, following Fenric's shouted warnings, but it wasn't enough. For every one he struck down, two more seemed to take its place. They just kept coming, an endless assault from beneath the snow.

  "Tch... damnit!" Kuro let out a pained sound, rare for him.

  "What happened?!" Fenric asked, worried, even as he continued his deadly dance through the snow.

  "Just a scratch—" Kuro jumped to avoid an attack from below. "—but it's the cold that's the real problem!" He brought Mosvmora down hard, feeling it bite into flesh beneath the surface.

  Of course, Fenric thought as he leaped again, narrowly avoiding being hamstrung by tusks emerging from the snow. His feet must be getting numb. I've been wondering for a while now how he's been withstanding the cold as well as he has. Glad to see he's human after all. As a half-beast, Fenric's tolerance for extreme temperatures was significantly higher than a normal human's—he barely felt the cold at all.

  "Kuro—there!" Fenric pointed urgently at a dead tree standing alone near the edge of the clearing, its skeletal branches reaching upward like gnarled fingers.

  Kuro understood immediately. They needed elevation. They needed to get off the ground.

  Both of them ran toward the tree, creatures crashing through the snow behind and below them. When they reached it, they scrambled up the trunk with desperate speed. For a dead tree, it was surprisingly sturdy and strong, its bark rough enough to provide good handholds.

  They positioned themselves among the lower branches, hanging on and standing on precarious perches like a pair of desperate monkeys seeking refuge.

  Both were breathing heavily, their breath misting in great clouds in the frigid air.

  "Now then," Kuro said, his voice hard and demanding despite his breathlessness. "Explain."

  "Uh?" Fenric was still in a frenzy, his mind racing, his body pumped full of adrenaline. He didn't catch what Kuro had said.

  "This situation, beast." Kuro's pale eyes fixed on him with an intensity that was almost physical. "You told me they were easy to kill and dumb. They do die easily, I'll grant you that. But they're not dumb. Not even close."

  The sun was setting rapidly now, the storm clouds hastening the approach of night. The battlefield was being swallowed by darkness, the white snow taking on shades of gray and black. Soon they would be fighting in nearly complete darkness.

  "And now this." Kuro gestured at the darkness, his irritation clear. "Explain, Fenric. Now."

  Fenric finally caught his breath, his chest still heaving. "Yes," he began, his voice shaking slightly. "The korgul—true korgul—they're easy. Very easy to kill. They're practically walking meat with tusks. But..." He paused, swallowing hard, his ears flat against his head. "What we're dealing with now? These aren't korgul. This is something more sinister. Something far more dangerous."

  As Fenric finished speaking, Kuro looked down. What he saw made his blood run cold—or would have, if he were the type to be easily frightened.

  Dozens of eyes shone in the darkness below them, reflecting the last traces of twilight with an unnatural red glow. They surrounded the base of the tree in a perfect circle, dozens of them, perhaps hundreds. All watching. All waiting with an patience that was distinctly not animal.

  "Can we kill them or not?" Kuro asked bluntly. It was the only question that mattered.

  Fenric's voice was grave when he answered. "Kuro, I'm going to be honest with you. We have exactly two options." He swallowed hard, and Kuro could feel him trembling—whether from cold or fear, it was hard to say. The trembling was making the tree itself shake slightly. "Option one: we run. We run as fast as we possibly can and pray we make it back to the village before they drag us down." He paused, his ember eyes reflecting the red glow from below. "Option two: we die fighting them."

  A low, vibrating sound rumbled from Kuro's chest—a chuckle, dark and somehow satisfied. It was such an unexpected sound that Fenric's head whipped around to stare at him.

  "Was that... a laugh?" Fenric asked, puzzled and slightly disturbed.

  A smile crept across Kuro's face, genuine and fierce. It transformed his usually impassive features into something almost predatory. "I like those odds."

  Below them, the creatures that wore the skins of korgul began their assault on the tree. They threw themselves at the base, their tusks gouging into the wood, their bodies slamming against the trunk with coordinated impact. Each strike sent tremors up through the tree. They were methodical, patient, working to bring down the tree rather than simply waiting for their prey to descend.

  The ancient wood groaned under the assault but held firm. For now.

  "So," Kuro said, turning to look at Fenric, his smile fading into something more serious but no less intense. "If they're not korgul as you say—" the tree shuddered from another coordinated impact below—"what are they?"

  Fenric looked back at him, and in his ember eyes, Kuro could see genuine fear mixed with resignation. The half-beast's voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke, as if saying the name too loudly might summon something even worse.

  "Hrungnir."

  The word hung in the air between them as the storm raged around them, the tree shook beneath them, and the red eyes watched from below, hungry and patient and utterly inhuman.

  The hunt, it seemed, had only just begun.