“Lord Mihail?”
The setting sun meant that dinnertime was fast approaching. Yet instead of turning the horse’s head back toward the castle, they were heading toward the forest visible at the far edge of the cultivated fields, which struck Chaika as strange, and he looked back. Even though he’d come dressed fairly warmly, he could feel his body tremble lightly each time a strong gust of wind swept past them. Mihail paused the horse, loosened his cloak, and wrapped it snugly around Chaika. With his body bundled tightly in the large cloak, Chaika instantly looked like a caterpillar with only his face sticking out.
“You look exactly like a caterpillar,” Mihail teased.
At that, Chaika’s lips jutted out in a pout.
The horse continued straight into the forest. When the sun dipped low over the wide-open land, the forest was already swallowed by darkness. As they entered between the dense trees, Chaika seemed startled by the sudden gloom and pressed himself even closer to Mihail.
A light glimmered deeper within the dark forest. Mihail headed straight toward it.
Upon reaching their destination, Mihail halted the horse, scooped up caterpillar-like Chaika in his arms, and jumped lightly to the ground. The forest near the castle lay within Mihail’s domain and also served as his hunting grounds. Several hunting cabins were scattered throughout the woods, and this one was the closest.
“This place is….”
The moment he opened the door and stepped inside, a wave of warmth rushed over them. He’d sent someone ahead to light the stove and prepare both food and bedding.
“It’s a hunting cabin.”
After shutting the door to block out the forest’s cold air, Mihail set Chaika down in front of the stove. As a hunting cabin, there was no plush bed, but the large, soft fur spread out before the stove would serve perfectly well as one.
While Mihail removed his outerwear, hung it on the wall, and tossed a few more logs into the stove, Chaika struggled and squirmed to free himself from the cloak wrapped around him. With his whole body bound, there was no easy way to untangle himself, so in the end he lay down and rolled from side to side until he finally escaped. Mihail stood there with his arms crossed, watching the amusing spectacle.
“So mean….”
After finally rolling his way out of his caterpillar predicament, Chaika noticed Mihail watching him and muttered under his breath. Then he cast a quick glance to see whether Mihail had heard him. When Mihail narrowed his eyes, Chaika flinched, hastily straightened the cloak spread out on the floor, and folded it neatly.
The hunting cabin was modest. Two chairs and a single table made up all the furniture. Mihail rummaged through the basket placed on the table. Inside were wine, water, bread, roasted meat, cheese, and dishes.
After carefully folding the cloak and draping it over a chair, Chaika looked around the cabin. There wasn’t much to see given how small it was, but it still seemed fascinating to him. Mihail took out bowls from the basket and poured soup from a bottle into them. Judging by the temperature, it hadn’t been long since someone last visited—cool, but not completely cold.
“Chaika.”
When Mihail called him, Chaika came over to the table. Seeing the familiar soup he ate every day, Chaika made a displeased face, as if he hadn’t expected to encounter it even here. Mihail set the bowl of soup and spoon neatly at Chaika’s place, then spread out the various foods from the basket in front of himself.
Unlike the massive dining table adorned with ornate candlesticks and decorations, this small table was just the right size for two people to sit across from each other. Seated at the table with his spoon in hand, Chaika hesitated for a moment.
“If we don’t go to dinner, Lord Nile will worry….”
There it was again—Nile, Nile, Nile.
“I told him in advance, so there’s nothing to worry about. Eat before it gets any colder.”
Irritated by the mention of Lord Nile, Mihail replied with a slightly cold expression. Chaika glanced up at him cautiously, then carefully brought the spoon to his mouth.
In the small cabin, the quiet sounds of eating mingled with the occasional crackle of burning wood from the stove. The forest, now swallowed by darkness, was so silent that it felt as though they were completely cut off from the world. Silence in a place like this weighed heavier than usual. Finding it unbearably awkward, Chaika glanced at Mihail several times before finally speaking up.
“The fur… the fur laid out by the stove is really huge.”
The topic Chaika chose in an effort to break the awkwardness was a good one.
“It’s something I caught myself.”
“You did, Lord Mihail?”
With a surprised expression, Chaika turned his head and looked again at the fur by the stove. It was so large that even the limbs and tail were still attached. Its true color was muted by the stove’s firelight in the darkness, but the thick, silvery-gray fur was undeniably beautiful.
“Was it a bear?”
Estimating the size of the pelt, Chaika asked. Mihail shook his head as he filled his wineglass.
“A wolf.”
“Wolves get that big?!”
Chaika’s voice rose slightly.
“It led a pack in the northern mountain range for many years.”
“Then if it led a pack… it was an alpha.”
Chaika said quietly.
Although beasts other than humans weren’t classified as alphas or omegas, people commonly referred to animals that led packs as alphas.
Creak.
Chaika stood up and walked over to the stove. He sat down atop the wide-spread fur and gently stroked the thick, glossy hair. The pelt of a wolf that had ruled as leader for so long was enormous, making Chaika look even smaller by comparison. If the creature were still alive and placed beside Chaika, he’d be nothing more than a single mouthful.
“It’s so big… how did you catch it?”
Mihail rose from his seat and sat down beside Chaika. As he ran his own hand over the fur, he recalled the time he’d hunted the creature. The thrill and anticipation when he first found it, the gnawing hunger and thirst as he chased it down, and the intoxicating satisfaction when he finally brought it down. The warmth of its blood, the metallic taste in his mouth.
The memory vividly revived those sensations. The deer he’d caught recently had been decent enough, but it didn’t compare to this one. That was why he’d gone so far as to skin it and place it here in the cabin—it was that special.
“It was called Gray, named for its coat, and it led the northern mountain pack for over a decade. But as it aged, it lost its position as leader and began hunting alone in the foothills. That’s when it started taking livestock.”
As Mihail began his story, Chaika listened intently. Mihail pulled Chaika by the waist and settled him onto his lap. Then, overlapping their hands, he guided Chaika’s to gently stroke Gray’s fur.
“Even after losing its place as leader, it was still strong. To catch it, I pursued it for ten straight days in the dead of winter. In the end, I finally encountered it when it was utterly exhausted.”
“You followed it? Did it run away?”
Chaika asked in a whisper.
“If I’d been an ordinary human, it wouldn’t have run—it would’ve made me its prey. But it was a beast. Its instincts and senses were sharp, and it realized I wasn’t prey—that it was. So it had no choice but to flee.”
Chaika inhaled sharply, his breathing tight with focus.
“After ten days without eating, it finally collapsed in the middle of a snowfield, completely spent. It realized it couldn’t run anymore. I approached it slowly after it had, in a sense, declared its surrender. I, too, had been starving for ten days, barely wetting my throat with melted snow. The creature, exhausted and awaiting death, stared at me with yellow eyes as I approached with my dagger. Then suddenly, it lifted its head and let out a long howl. Whether it was bidding a final farewell to its former pack somewhere in the mountains, or simply letting out its last howl… When it howled three times in succession, I heard wolves howling back from far away in the range. It was saying goodbye to the pack it once led.”
Chaika’s hand, stroking the thick fur, trembled slightly.
“And then… you killed it?”
His whisper shook faintly.
“Yes. I killed it. With a single strike, so it wouldn’t suffer.”
As if comforting the dead wolf, Chaika gently and slowly stroked the fur. The sight of those small, pale hands soothing the pelt of a massive, ferocious predator lodged itself strangely in Mihail’s gaze.
“Do you feel sorry for it?”
When Mihail asked, Chaika shook his head.
“No. It was an incredible, powerful wolf that led a pack in the mountains for so long, wasn’t it? Just look at how beautiful and large its fur is—when it was alive, it must’ve been even more magnificent and dignified. Thinking of such a beautiful creature growing old and sick, growing thin, its fur falling out in clumps, filling its belly with rotten meat while dying slowly and miserably… that’s heartbreaking. Dying while it was still this beautiful is far better. This way, it can remain forever as Gray—the beautiful, powerful alpha wolf.”
There was a quiet sorrow and solemn resolve mixed into Chaika’s words. Hearing such gravity from someone who had lived as little more than a menial laborer was strange. For some reason, Chaika suddenly felt distant. Mihail took hold of Chaika’s shoulders, turned him, and looked into his face. A faint smile rested on his calm expression.
What was that feeling just now?
Mihail scrutinized Chaika’s face and eyes as he thought. Then something suddenly came to mind. Ten years.
“You….”
Mihail started to speak while looking at Chaika, then furrowed his brow.
Now that he thought about it, this creature—Chaika—had never once shown sadness, fear, or regret over the short lifespan the physician had warned him about. No reaction at all. That in itself was strange. Why hadn’t he noticed how strange it was until now? Probably because the shock Mihail himself had felt at hearing “ten years” had been so overwhelming that he hadn’t spared a thought for Chaika’s response.
Chaika gazed at him, as if waiting for him to continue. But Mihail closed his mouth. He didn’t want to talk about the creature’s death.
“If you like it, I’ll give it to you.”
He said instead, stroking the fur. Chaika shook his head.
“No. It’s far too much for me.”
“There’s nothing that’s too much for you.”
Chaika blinked, as though he didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean at all.
