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Arc 1 – Omegaverse: The Hunter and the Omega Prince
Day 10 – The Wolf Steps Closer
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Snow still clung to the cabin's roof, melting in thin rivulets that pattered against the windowpanes.
Kyle woke late, his hair in soft disarray, the oversized sweater from yesterday slipping off one shoulder. He shuffled to the table, rubbing at his eyes like a sleepy child.
The envoys were already there — polished boots by the door, cloaks draped neatly on pegs. The air smelled faintly of boiled herbs from the medic's satchel.
Lord Soren didn't look up from the map he was unfurling. "We leave at first light tomorrow."
Kyle froze mid-step. "Tomorrow?"
"You're not safe here," Soren said without preamble. "That thing out there—"
The low rumble of a growl cut through his words.
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Through the frost-laced window, the wolf stood closer than ever — not at the treeline, not even near the woodpile, but at the very steps of the cabin.
Its massive paws pressed into the snow, breath steaming in the cold air. Something hung from its jaws — a thick strip of fur-lined cloth.
Kyle recognized it instantly. "That's my scarf."
One of the knights moved for the door, hand on hilt. "I'll drive it off—"
"No!" Kyle's voice cracked sharper than he intended. Everyone turned to look at him. His fingers twisted in the hem of his sweater. "It'll… get angry."
Aldric's eyes flicked between Kyle and the wolf. "It's not giving that scarf back."
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The wolf didn't move when the door creaked open, but its golden gaze tracked every shift in the room.
It lowered the scarf to the snow, then pushed it forward with its snout — slow, deliberate.
A gift.
The medic muttered under his breath, "Unnatural."
Kyle stepped back until his knees hit the bench. "I don't want it." But his voice was faint, his cheeks flushed with something between fever and discomfort.
Soren's stare was hard. "And yet it doesn't care what you want."
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By midday, the envoys' presence had shifted the cabin's atmosphere into something taut and brittle.
Eira busied herself at the hearth, refusing to be drawn into Soren's arguments. Torren kept slipping outside under the guise of chopping wood — more likely to keep an eye on the wolf, who had taken to pacing a slow circle around the cabin.
When Kyle tried to rest, voices carried from the other room.
> "…we can't overpower it in close quarters."
"Then we bait it away."
"That'll only work if he's not here."
Kyle pressed the pillow over his ears. His chest ached. He didn't know whether from fever or the feeling that something—someone—would break soon.
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Snow whispered down in the dark, muffling all sound — until a thud rattled the shutters by Kyle's bed.
He sat up, heart thudding.
Through the sliver of moonlight, a massive shadow moved against the window. Then a nose — black and wet — pressed to the glass. Golden eyes gleamed through the frost.
Kyle's breath hitched. He should scream, or call for someone. But instead, he found himself frozen, torn between fear and an odd, unwelcome warmth in his chest.
The wolf huffed, fogging the pane.
Somewhere in the cabin, boots hit the floorboards as someone stirred. But when they reached the window, the wolf was already gone, leaving only a trail of pawprints leading right up to the wall.
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