Chapter Text
Taehyung sees a carriage approaching the highway and increases his speed. To run faster and faster—that's the goal ringing like an alarm bell in his ears.
An elderly woman with heavy bags climbs onto the carriage step, and a stocky man dressed in a dark traveling suit follows, grabbing the door handle to slam it shut, but he notices Taehyung racing down the dusty road.
Taehyung, mouth open, breathes raggedly, takes a purse from his belt, pulls out a single coin, and hands it to the driver.
"You made it, kid," the driver gestures with his hand, indicating he can board, which Taehyung does, still trying to catch his breath.
He sits on the back row, which is completely empty as it jolts the most, places a canvas bag on his lap, hugs it with his arms, then closes his eyes, pretending he will sleep. That way, no one will want to talk to him for sure. To be absolutely certain, he pulls the hood of his linen shirt down further and clutches the bag tighter. His heart beats wildly, because so far, everything is going according to plan. May luck continue to accompany him, as it has these past twenty-four hours. He has left Luminele, and that is the most important thing. He wants to believe no search will be announced, but that's just a pipe dream, for he is the son of an eru, but the younger one. Of course, they will look for him, but he hopes he's doing a decent job of covering his tracks. Taehyung wants to disappear, and he has the perfect plan.
The carriage rocks only slightly; the road is smooth, without potholes, and Taehyung sinks into sleep. The tension and exhaustion of this impossibly long day make themselves known. But then sounds break into his consciousness: someone talking, the driver's shout, the creak of the door. Taehyung surfaces from serene slumber, mentally noting that this is the first stop, and it's a long one since the town is large; he needs the third one.
Taehyung might have gotten out to grab a bite—no, not like that—to have a proper meal, he's really hungry, but no, it's better not to draw attention to himself. He'll endure. He hugs his bag tighter and rests his cheek on it: he can nap again like this or watch the passing scenery through the window when they start moving.
A couple more hours in the carriage, then the second stop, but this time a brief one, and then, when the sunset begins to play with colors in the window, Taehyung hears the long-awaited call: "Yaminis. One-hour stop."
This town couldn't be called small, but calling it big would be a stretch too. The town is known for its westernmost edge, where the Melanore Forests begin—the territory of the Western Werewolf Pack.
The carriage stops by the highway, the driver opens the door, and the sounds of the city rush in: the clatter of wheels on cobblestones, the screech of wagon axles, and the snorting of horses; someone's laughter and loud voices engaged in heated discussion.
Taehyung jumps off the step and looks around.
It's noisy and crowded here, and smells swirl in the air: the sweet-spicy aroma of roasted meat makes him look to the left, where in front of a tavern, a whole boar sizzles and browns on a massive spit. A boy tirelessly stirs the coals with a poker, and its scrape, the hiss of dripping juices, and the steady crackle of coals merge into something enticing. A couple, a man and his pregnant wife, head towards the wide-open tavern doors, from which laughter and cheerful songs spill out. The others, resisting the temptation, walk off with confident strides, each to their own street.
Taehyung doesn't want to attract attention, so without delay, he heads in the direction where mountain peaks are visible. A slight breeze carries from that direction the bitter scent of pine, the fresh smell of grass, the whisper of a babbling river, and something light, fresh, most likely the purity and coolness of a lake. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, still on guard, he adjusts his shirt's hood so his wheat-colored hair doesn't stick out, and moves forward.
The sun dips below the horizon. Taehyung quickly crosses the main part of the town; he doesn't want to stop here at all, so he quickens his pace. He reaches the outskirts, where a couple of houses remain, and beyond them a field is visible, and somewhere there, a dense strip of trees begins. His dark green shirt and wide trousers of the same color will hide him from curious glances; if anyone looks out the windows of the outermost houses, he certainly won't stand out as a bright spot.
The first step onto the field, and Taehyung begins to hear his beloved whisper. The joyful rustle of grass, the petals of the first autumn flowers turn towards him, and Taehyung responds not with words but with a light touch to the buds; even the pebbles on the path seem to have increased their gloss to make the trail more visible.
The forest responds with a joyful greeting; the tree crowns rustle their leaves in unison. A light breeze, like an old friend, lingers on his shoulders, playfully knocks off his hood, ruffles his hair, which is beginning to change color, and brings the scent of earth, all the forest flowers, and the aroma of tree bark. Making introductions.
Taehyung, barely touching his fingertip to his forearm, writes two runes—Pert ᛈ and Algiz ᛉ. His heart beats faster; until now, if he ever drew runes, it was only on inanimate surfaces, so no one in his house would know about it. In the eru family, the right to wield runes belonged to the elder brother—the guardian or warrior—but certainly not the younger one, and a herbalist at that.
The runes leave his hand, flying up to the treetops, and scatter as sparks at the forest's border. Pert ᛈ, which carries a secret, and Algiz ᛉ—its protector. Taehyung asks nature to keep the secret and not speak of the young elf who has stepped onto the lands of Yaminis. In response, he hears a faint rustle of crowns. Taehyung knows his runes are weak and unreliable, for he has not undergone the ritual.
He walks through the forest for barely an hour when he hears faint growls alternating with quiet whimpers. Taehyung stops, listening to determine the direction of the sound, veers slightly to the right, and breaks into a run. Literally a minute or a minute and a half, and he finds himself near a sprawling oak tree, at the foot of which lies a person, with a black wolf pup circling nearby. Taehyung approaches closer; the pup snorts, looks at him with clear blue eyes, and emits a weak squeak.
Taehyung hesitates to pet it; he doesn't know the rules of conduct with wolf pups that well, and the adult clearly needs help. So he kneels and bends over the person, pushes back the hood from their head, and strands of snow-white hair spill over their shoulders. It's an elf! An elf and a little wolf pup! Taehyung is surprised? Very! But he is accustomed and skilled at controlling his emotions; elves are taught that from childhood.
"Have they given you a name yet?" the elf asks in a weak voice, gathering strength.Taehyung shakes his head.
"You ran away? A herbalist, yes?"
Taehyung nods.
"If an elf runs away, which is still rare," the elf breathes heavily, "it's always the herbalists who run. Did they want to betroth you?"
Taehyung turns away and clenches his fists to hide the tremor, how much it hurts him.
"Hey," the elf whispers quietly, "you can show emotion around me. You'll learn to do that now," a faint smile appears on the elf's pale face, "and that's wonderful."
Taehyung looks at the elf again and skeptically raises one eyebrow.
"I will help you, and you will help me. Agreed?" The elf closes his eyes; his breathing becomes hoarse.
Taehyung places his hand on the elf's shoulder, and the wolf pup crawls closer, nudging its muzzle into the elf's stomach.
"My little one," the elf says very, very quietly, "I love you very, very much," and strokes the pup with a trembling hand.
Taehyung points at the elf, gestures with his fingers in sign language, and mouths the words: "What's wrong with you?"
"I was poisoned. By my own. I once ran away too. Fell in love. My husband—he was a werewolf. He died," the elf can barely speak, "my family convinced me to visit, promising everything would be fine. But no. They wanted to kidnap the baby, and they poisoned me. I didn't know I was poisoned. Realized it on the way. I didn't have time... couldn't make it to my pack, where we live. So I changed my route. Closer... Wanted to ask the Westerners for help."
Taehyung points at himself and draws a question mark in the air.
"Ah, yes. Help... You are nameless and haven't undergone namenis... you'll remain mute."
Taehyung shakes his head and points at the tree leaves.
"You received a name from the forest?"
Taehyung nods.
"Then only a couple of days remained... That's good. You'll be able to speak in a whisper. But not with a full voice. If you don't complete the ritual of namenis, you'll remain like that," the elf grits his teeth, trying to suppress a moan and not frighten the wolf pup, who has now laid its muzzle on the elf's stomach and watches him intently with blue eyes like blackberries. "There is a way. You must perform the ritual for my son. Give him a name. And then... a voice will appear. Nature will grant it to you because you will become with the full right to an namenis: the one who gives a name."
Taehyung ponders, though he already knows the answer.
"You think for a long time; I might not have my time," the elf whispers weakly, closing his eyes, while the pup presses closer and whimpers quietly, "I'm running out of my strength."
Taehyung touches the pale fingers stroking the pup's black fur and nods when the elf raises his gaze to him.
The elf takes Taehyung's palm in one hand and the pup's paw in the other. The pup stops whimpering and watches intently, tilting its head slightly left and right. "I renounce, I break the bond," Taehyung barely hears the elf's weak muttering, "I grant the right of Name Hearing, I transfer..."
A few more words Taehyung cannot make out, as the grass begins to whisper: "Right transferred, right transferred."
A few minutes later, Taehyung and the wolf pup are left alone, and the elf's body is taken by the roots of the tree under which he lay. The pup whimpers, tears appear in its blue eyes, and it presses against the only living being—the handsome youth whose hair begins to lighten, becoming snow-white, like his father's.
The moon asserts its dominion. It sails towards the center of the night sky; midnight is approaching, and the forest's whisper will change.
Taehyung looks at the wolf pup, for whom he is now responsible. He sits on his knees, brings his hand to the pup's scruff, observing its reaction, but the blue eyes, filled with the pain of loss, look into amber ones with a plea not to be abandoned. Then Taehyung lowers his palm to carefully stroke the fur and hears quiet purring in response. "We'll get along," he thinks, stands up, and gestures that they must go.
They move quickly through the forest: Taehyung hurries, sometimes breaking into a run, and the pup nimbly moves its paws—sometimes surging ahead, sometimes weaving around his feet.
The moon in the dark sky watches and lays a path of cold silver for the two different beings; the grass presses to the ground, showing the way—helping. Taehyung silently thanks the forest, tenderly touching the flower buds. And now, the quiet whisper of a river is heard, and among the trees, a dark expanse of water becomes visible. Taehyung quickens his step and stops abruptly; the pup stumbles from the sudden stop and plops awkwardly onto the ground. The bank. Across a wide strip of water stretches a dense thicket—the Melanore Forests.
Taehyung exhales and steps confidently to the water's edge, feeling the cold seep through the thin leather of his boots. The pup hurries after him. The moon reflects on the surface as a bright stripe; the river is calm, only a peaceful, quiet splash is heard. His shins become warm—it's the pup pressing against him and looking up with pleading eyes.
He takes a step into the river; the pup follows, and immediately there's snorting, and its paws, still with small claws, begin to cling to his trousers. Taehyung scoops it up with one hand and slowly heads towards the opposite bank. The water burns with cold, but he cannot allow himself to appear weak. He holds the pup in his arms and hears the encouraging whisper of foliage behind him.
The current pulls them slightly sideways; the water reaches his shoulders, and Taehyung has no choice but to lower the pup into the water and extend his hand so it can always grab hold. The black ball of fur growls, but not from fear—from effort. Taehyung, seeing his charge is managing, sinks into the water and begins to swim. He feels his heart beat faster, and the desire to reach warmth makes his movements swift and precise. Now their breath is visible as white puffs in the air, and with each exhale, the water ripples.
A little remains; the shore gets closer and closer, and now Taehyung feels the bottom under his feet. He allows himself a sigh of relief, realizing he made it. He is here—on the territory of the Western Pack.
A step, another; cold envelops his body as if coating it in ice; his feet sink into the sticky bank, his boots squelch with water, and his shirt and trousers cling like a second skin. Each step requires a bit of effort. Taehyung takes the pup into his arms and steps onto Melanore land.
He feels his blood burn with returning warmth—his fingers begin to tingle, then a slight heat in his temples—and at the same time, cold pierces his shoulders, his body where the wet clothes stick. The pup shivers, and Taehyung holds it tighter; the black fur is wet, and the pup shakes its head. Then Taehyung sets the little one down so it can shake off the water, which it immediately does: water droplets fly in all directions, looking like scattered glass in the moonlight.
Water streams from his shirt and trousers, and he looks around, trying to see the outline of some shelter: in his geography textbook, he read that such exist on the borders of pack territories. It was from there he also learned about this law of the Western Pack, which has been observed for several centuries.
The night, like a thick blanket, envelops the forest, which grows denser, and the ancient trees grow taller, hiding the moon. The pup walks beside him, moving its paws slowly, snorting, sniffing. Taehyung keeps the curious puppy in his field of vision so it stays nearby, and he also feels the silence. No extraneous sounds, not a twig snapping, not a leaf rustling, but the elf knows. They have already been heard.
Unlike the Yaminis forest, Melanore does not respond with a friendly whisper. It greets with silent, wary might. This forest belongs to the pack; it is their fortress, their home. And every leaf, every needle whispers: "Outsider, outsider, outsider." Taehyung, soaked to the bone and trembling from the penetrating cold, hears it. But there is no rejection from the thicket; after all, he is an elf-herbalist.
Taehyung stops, takes a deep breath of the damp, resinous air, and with a voiceless whisper, using only his lips, pronounces the ancient words of greeting. His pale, stiff fingers carefully trace the low branches of a young pine, the rough bark of an old oak. He does not demand, does not ask. Taehyung shows himself. His essence. His respect and reverence.
Cold stiffens his movements; the wet clothes weigh him down, but Taehyung does not want to delay. He chooses a spot under a sprawling ancient spruce, whose roots, like black snakes, delve into the earth.
He squats, picks up a thin, pliable twig from the ground, and clears a small patch of earth of pine needles. His movements are quick but smooth, honed by long, secret practice.
Taehyung draws a dark line on the ground: first, a long, smooth vertical—the rune Laguz ᛚ, symbol of flow, water, and life, granting strength to the forest saps. Then, as if coiling around it, he draws the rune Berkano ᛒ, the sign of growth, healing, and maternal protection, nourishing all living things. At the top of the bindrune, he adds a short, energetic ray of Sowilo ᛋ, imbuing it with warmth and solar power, and finishes at the very bottom with the rune Wunjo ᚹ, bringing joy, well-being, and harmony. His lips whisper soundlessly: "To the forest—health, warm breath, and fertility; may the saps flow in branches and roots. Live, grow, be strong." He bends lower, almost touching his forehead to the earth, and gently blows on the runescript. And a miracle happens, one he so carefully hid from everyone. The dark lines momentarily flash with a dull silvery light. Tiny sparks, like lunar dust, rise into the air, swirl in a vortex, and scatter together, absorbed into the earth at the spruce's roots. The air around thickens, trembles, and Taehyung feels a barely perceptible, warm answering breeze and a quiet, approving echo.
Melanore accepts his gift.
He runs his palm over the ground, returning the pine needles to their place, then opens his canvas bag, rummages through it, retrieves a dried twig, and places it on the ground. His hand trembles slightly, but his soul feels lighter. He pets the wolf pup, who sniffs the ground nearby and stands up. They head further, deeper into the forest, unaware that they are already being watched.
🌲
Behind the thick trunk of a gigantic oak, a hundred paces away, a man has been standing motionless all this time, merging with the tree as if part of it. Tall and powerfully built, he wears wide, coarse trousers made of dense fabric and a dark, sleeveless tunic. In his left hand, he holds a cloak, and his right hand, hanging freely along his body, is entirely covered in tattoos from the wrist to the neck visible in the neckline. Despite the beginning of autumn, which makes ordinary people wear warmer clothes, werewolf blood, hot and fast, doesn't feel the cold in the same way.
His black hair is very thick and falls in long strands over his forehead, but his temples are shaved. This hairstyle makes his face harsher and lends a predatory quality to his appearance.
His sharp gaze, heavy and unerringly focused, watches the two creatures who have already crossed the border and are heading deeper into his pack's territory. He felt the border crossing, and the sentries immediately reported it through the pack link.
He sees the person squat and draw something on the ground, sees that momentary glow that illuminates the earth, and feels a light, almost ghostly ripple in the forest's energy. It doesn't resemble the elf magic he has seen before. It's something else. A spark of interest flares in the werewolf's eyes, and he silently follows the strange pair. Now his task is to show them a place to spend the night.
🌲
Taehyung sees the silhouette—tall, nearly two meters, with shoulders any blacksmith would envy. He notes his posture—collected, as if ready for battle, yet not aggressive, rather observant. "A pack sentinel or warrior," Taehyung thinks.
The stranger steps closer, and moonlight filtering through trees of varying heights catches his face: young, with sharp features, but with black eyes of incredible depth. At least, that's how it seems now to the tired, frozen Taehyung, who would never dare show it. So he stands, shoulders straightened, and looks at the werewolf, trying to convey calmness with his stance.
The man stops a few steps away, makes no sudden movements, and watches. His gaze slides over Taehyung: "You swam across Nisu. Not everyone dares cross the border of our lands. Only the desperate who are running."
Taehyung cannot answer. He only nods, hoping they won't ask anything more and will give him and the pup time to rest and recover.
The werewolf steps closer, removes a thin cloak made of well-tanned leather from his arm, and drapes it over Taehyung's shoulders. Though not a muscle twitches on Taehyung's face, and he nods in response, inside, he freezes from surprise.
"Well then, border crossers," the man narrows his eyes slightly, "let the pack leader deal with you tomorrow. The Western Pack provides shelter to those led to us by the forest. Or the river Nisu," and yet he gives Taehyung another once-over from head to toe, then turns his gaze to the wolf pup, looks intently, turns around, and throws over his shoulder: "Follow me."
Taehyung picks up the wolf pup and follows the man, studying him. His gaze falls on the man's arm and slides over the black ink: intricate, interwoven patterns in which one can discern both ancient pack symbols and, most likely, personal, enigmatic signs. His steps are silent despite his powerful build. The werewolf doesn't look back, but Taehyung feels it—all his attention is fixed on him, on his every move, on the pup's quiet whining. Taehyung also knows how to walk without making a sound, but now his leather boots squelch loudly with water. He leads them along a trail invisible to foreign eyes, past trees whose branches bend to let them pass, and stones that look as if they've lain there for centuries.
The house to which the werewolf leads them turns out to be an old but sturdy cabin.
"You may stay here," the man says, standing at the threshold. "Tomorrow, the pack leader will decide your fate. The area you are permitted to be in is limited to this house itself and the part of the forest from here to the river you came from. If you go further into the forest from your house, it will be considered a threat."
Taehyung nods once more, understanding. They are not prisoners. They are petitioners. Guests whose status has yet to be determined.
As soon as the werewolf disappears into the forest thicket, Taehyung looks at their temporary refuge. The entrance is recessed in a low niche at the corner, as if a piece had been cut from a square cake, with two doors side by side.
Taehyung hesitates and opens the left door. Moonlight streaming through square windows allows him to see the dwelling: a massive fireplace made of large, rough-hewn stones occupies the central place on the opposite wall. Its wide mantelpiece is made of a stone block, on which several thick candles stand.
To the right, with its head against the wall, stands a large, low bed with dark gray bed linen and a carelessly thrown fur pelt. In front of it, at the foot, is a roughly cobbled wooden table. A thick, fluffy rug sewn from various small pieces of fur lies on the floor.
Fortunately, a large bundle of firewood lies near the fireplace, so the first thing Taehyung does with trembling hands is light a fire. The flames begin to crackle merrily, bringing light and long-awaited warmth into the house. The wolf pup tumbles on the floor and makes sounds resembling growling. Joyful growling. Taehyung exhales with relief, but he has no strength left, so he strips off his wet clothes and boots, arranges them on the wide stone block by the fireplace, lies down on the bed, wraps himself in the heavy blanket, closes his eyes, and falls asleep.
🌲
The first sensation is cold—not piercing, like in the river at night, but cozy, smelling of wood and stone, of embers in the extinguished fireplace.
Taehyung opens his eyes, and for a second his consciousness refuses to process the sight: not the carved vaults of his room in Luminele, but rough, dark beams draped with light cobwebs. Memory hits like a heavy wave, and thoughts flood in—the escape from home, several days of travel, the forest, the elf's death, the night crossing of the cold river with the black ball of fur that is now snoring sweetly beside him.
He lies in bed, covered by a blanket, with the wolf pup nestled under his arm. It's small, its fur black as ash, and it now enjoys serene sleep while Taehyung's heart tightens with responsibility. They didn't really talk properly yesterday; they walked, ran, swam, encountered the werewolf who met them, were given shelter, and then, from exhaustion and cold, he and the pup instantly fell asleep as soon as they found themselves here, safe and warm. Speaking of warmth...
Taehyung carefully, so as not to wake it, runs his fingers through the fluffy fur, allows himself to smile, and gets out of bed. His movements are practiced, graceful, and fluid. He surveys the house—now, in the sunlight, it's possible.
The space is small: to the right of the door, a large chest where he put the werewolf's cloak yesterday, then the bed they slept on. Opposite the entrance—the fireplace. Along the left wall is the kitchen. A semblance of a kitchen, if compared to his home. His former home. Taehyung will not return to Luminele. He became certain of that when he saw the poisoned elf who died by his own family's hand.
Taehyung steps onto the still-warm wooden floor towards the fireplace to throw a couple of logs on the still-smoldering embers, to hear their cheerful crackle and fill the house with warmth. Next, he wants to find some food. He can go hungry, but the pup needs to be fed.
On the so-called kitchen—the wall opposite the bed—there is a stove with a cast-iron top holding a frying pan and a deep brazier, a ladle, and a cast-iron pot of about five liters. Next to it, a table-chest with two wide doors and a shelf above it proudly displaying a clay pot. In it, Taehyung discovers honey, and the corners of his lips stretch into a smile uncharacteristic for him. He can now. No one is watching. At least there's something to eat already. And it's sweet! His pup should like it. Taehyung mentally says "my pup" and... for some reason, he likes it. It warms his cold heart. And that's... surprising. Such a feeling.
At that moment, a snort is heard, and Taehyung turns: the pup is stirring on the bed, then gets up on its paws and looks at Taehyung with its attentive blue eyes.
Taehyung still doesn't quite understand how to communicate with it. His people know sign language, as all elves are voiceless until the age of twenty, until they undergo the iminis ritual or, as it's also called, "Name Hearing." What to do now, Taehyung doesn't know.
He squats down and beckons the pup with his hand. The little ball of fur dashes to run to Taehyung and nudges its wet nose into his palm. Taehyung affectionately scratches behind its ear, trying to convey what he cannot say in words. The pup purrs and gives his wrist a quick lick. Only now does Taehyung realize he smells autumn foliage. While they were walking through the forest, Taehyung thought it was just beginning to smell like autumn, and he wasn't paying attention to sensations; they were running. But now Taehyung understands—this is the pup's scent. Taehyung bends lower and buries his nose in the black fur at the pup's scruff. Pure autumn, fallen leaves... Taehyung's favorite time of year. The pup goes still, sensing it's being sniffed, then suddenly breaks free and licks Taehyung's nose. Caught off guard, Taehyung plops onto the floor, and the cold amber of his eyes warms slightly.
Taehyung is about to get up from the floor when he notices a wooden lid with a small ring. With difficulty, he lifts it and discovers a deep pit underneath—a cold cellar. He carefully descends; inside, on sturdy wooden shelves, supplies are stored: small clay pots with lard, several hefty pieces of dried venison, and two crates of root vegetables. Taehyung looks closely and sees carrots. Next to the crates sits a pot-bellied pumpkin. If he knew how to express emotions, he would jump for joy and squeal, but Taehyung just stands, looks, and all he allows himself is to smile and gently run his hand over all this bounty. Though his people certainly wouldn't think so, as there are precious metals and stones. It would be insulting to consider a carrot valuable. Taehyung now disagrees and once again ponders what they were taught since childhood and how many times he will have to think differently.
Taehyung takes a few carrots, a chunk of venison, and a pot of lard, and climbs back up. The pup, catching the scent of meat, weaves around his legs. Suddenly it freezes and pricks up its ears. Taehyung puts everything on the table and turns towards the entrance door.
He wipes his hands, approaches the mirror hanging above the chest, adjusts strands of wheat-colored hair, smooths down his dark green long shirt, runs his hand over the thick embroidery threads, reties the thin leather belt differently so the ends hang almost to his knees. He goes to the fireplace and watches the small flame and the glowing, fire-breathing embers.
The door opens without a knock—not loudly, but with that note that shows confidence and grants the right to enter without warning. The scent of four werewolves hits the elf's sensitive nose. Five. Five werewolves.
