Who Is On The Hills?!

Tristan stepped into the hut with a bundle of fresh plants in his hands. His face was filled with worry and uncertainty as he moved toward the room where he had left his master.

He was thinking of taking Rayan away. With his strength, he could carry him across the hill.

But the problem was, he didn’t know what lay on the other side. Had Lenn received his signal? Was it safe? Or were Ulrik’s soldiers waiting there?

They were already being hunted all across the region. Taking his injured master down the hill could put him in even more danger.

Still, Tristan had to do something.

He wouldn’t let anything happen to his master. If it came down to it, he would risk his life.

With that thought in his heart, Tristan entered the room.

But the moment he stepped inside, he froze.

Rayan was sitting upright on the bed, leaning against the headboard and staring into the distance. When he heard the sound of footsteps, he turned and looked at Tristan.

“My Lord…” Tristan whispered in disbelief. Then he rushed forward.

“My Lord, why are you sitting up?! You should be resting—your wound, it’s still bleeding!”

Tristan tended to panic when it came to Rayan. He always rambled when worried, and this was no different.

Rayan, used to this by now, stayed calm.

“I’m fine,” he replied.

But those two words couldn’t settle Tristan.

Just a short while ago, Rayan had been unconscious and bleeding. Tristan had been ready to carry him down the hill in desperation.

And now…

Tristan’s eyes fell to the stained cloth that had been used to wrap the wound. It was lying on the floor, soaked with blood. He looked back at Rayan’s chest, expecting to see the injury still there.

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Instead, he saw smooth, clean skin. The wound was gone.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

Sensing his gaze, Rayan quietly pulled a blanket over himself.

“My Lord…” Tristan tried to speak, but Rayan cut him off.

“I’m starving.”

That simple sentence shifted Tristan’s attention. “I’ll prepare something right away.”

But as he turned to leave, he gave one last glance at the covered wound—his eyes full of doubt.

Rayan noticed. His lips pressed into a thin line.

Tristan might talk too much, but he wasn’t stupid. He had found his way here on his own. It wouldn’t take long for him to figure out what had happened.

A few moments later, Tristan quietly left the room.

Rayan turned his face toward the window. His expression was cold and unreadable. No one could guess what was going through his mind.

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Meanwhile, on the hill...

Aria stood facing the wide, empty valley and took a deep breath before shouting again.

“Wohoooo!”

She tried to mimic a wolf’s howl. Her voice echoed into the silence.

The valley was still. Not a single response came.

She smiled faintly, but her eyes slowly began to fill with tears.

They didn’t want to come anymore.

She bit her lip, trying to stop herself from crying. Rubbing her eyes quickly, she placed the bowl of medicinal paste she’d brought on a nearby rock and turned to leave.

But just then, she heard a soft sound.

“Kuhuu!”

Aria blinked.

She turned slowly and saw a small bird fly toward her. It landed gently on her shoulder.

“Kuhuu,” it chirped again.

More birds followed. They circled around her, chirping and calling.

Aria couldn’t stop the tears now. She sobbed, even though she had tried so hard not to.

Through her blurry vision, she saw something move—and then, her breath caught again.

The same wolf from last night limped toward her.

The one Rayan had stabbed.

Aria immediately picked up the bowl of paste and walked toward it.

The wolf stopped as she approached, watching her carefully.

But she didn’t hesitate.

She sat on a flat stone nearby and looked at the wounded paw with concern. Then she placed her hand gently over it and closed her eyes.

She began to chant softly. Her lips moved slowly, her expression calm and focused.

A warm light glowed from her palm.

The wolf let out a low, soft sound.

Aria opened her eyes and looked at the wound.

It had mostly healed.

“Gween sou…” she whispered gently, stroking the wolf’s head. (Forgive him.)

The wolf leaned its head into her hand, nuzzling her.

She applied the paste carefully around its paw and whispered again, “Wou ho nay." (He is new.)

She was about to say more—but a sudden, sharp sound interrupted her.

She turned, frowning, trying to find where it came from.

And then she saw it.

Her eyes widened in shock.

Her heart pounded, and her mind screamed at her to run.

But her legs didn’t move.

Everything around her began to blur.

And then, slowly, she collapsed onto the ground.