I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

Arthur looked down at the massive paw print pressed deep into the muddy shoulder of the road.

”What is it?” he asked.

”Wolf,” Rhea answered.

Arthur looked at the print again. It was easily the size of a dinner plate. ”That’s a very optimistic definition of wolf.”

Rhea’s ears remained angled toward the deeper woods. She didn’t seem amused. ”His name’s Hati. He’s been around longer than I have, and he normally stays much deeper in the forest.”

Arthur glanced toward the trees. ”Does he attack travelers?”

”Normally? No.”

Arthur looked back at the enormous print. The word normally was doing a worrying amount of work.

Before Arthur could ask anything else, Bram’s voice carried from farther up the road, telling everyone to get moving before the light got any worse. Rhea gave Hati’s track one last look before standing.

”We can talk in Rauk Hollow,” she said, already heading back toward the caravan.

The road widened as they approached Rauk Hollow, and signs of habitation slowly replaced untouched forest. Hunting marks appeared on older trunks, stacks of cut wood sat beside the road, and simple lamps hung from branches above the route.

Smoke showed between the trees before the first buildings came into view.

Rauk Hollow was larger than Arthur had expected. Timber houses stood on rough stone foundations beneath the old trees, with workshops and broad porches facing wide dirt roads. Massive trunks still rose naturally between homes and stores, their branches spreading over the rooftops.

Wolfkin filled the streets. Hunters returned with bows and spears over their shoulders, merchants unloaded carts, craftsmen worked outside open workshops, and children chased one another between buildings with ears and tails bouncing behind them.

Humans clearly weren’t unusual here, but Arthur still caught a few curious looks as the caravan rolled through.

Celia leaned toward Arthur’s window after noticing where his attention had gone. ”You’re going to hurt your neck.”

”Worth the risk,” Arthur replied without looking away.

Bram brought the caravan into a broad trading yard near the center of the settlement. The moment the wagons stopped, merchants started climbing down and arguing over rooms, unloading space, and where they could trade in the morning.

Celia climbed down behind Arthur, stretched both arms above her head, and immediately started looking around for somewhere to stay. ”I’m finding a bath before one of you discovers another reason to nearly get eaten.”

Derren tightened his sword belt and looked toward Rhea instead. ”I’m hearing what the local hunters know before I decide where I’m going next.”

Arthur was already heading the same way.

Rhea barely made it twenty steps before an older wolfkin woman stepped directly into her path. Arthur noticed the resemblance immediately—the same dark ears and tail, similar features, but with a few lighter strands running through her hair. She stood squarely in Rhea’s path with the easy confidence of someone who expected her daughter to stop.

Her eyes passed over Rhea, the caravan behind her, and finally Arthur. ”You were gone two days and brought one back?”

Rhea closed her eyes for a second. ”Mother.”

Arthur grinned. ”I like her.”

”Lysa,” Rhea said, giving him a tired look. ”My mother. And don’t encourage her.”

”Too late.”

Rhea’s expression sobered. ”Blacktusks attacked the caravan a few miles back.”

Lysa’s ears angled forward. ”The ones with the veins?”

”Yeah. Seven, maybe more.” Rhea glanced back toward the road they’d arrived on. ”And Hati crossed the road coming into Rauk Hollow.”

Lysa’s tail stopped moving. ”How close?”

”Too close.”

Arthur looked from Rhea to Lysa. Neither of them seemed remotely amused anymore.

Bram called from the wagons before Lysa could ask anything else, asking whether someone could check the injured guard. Lysa turned toward one of the nearby buildings and shouted for Mara.

A wolfkin woman stepped onto the porch while tying back her hair. One look at the wounded guard was enough; she went straight to him and crouched beside the wagon, cleaning away the dried blood before checking the closed wound.

”Healing potion did most of the work,” she said after pressing carefully around the injury. ”Bend it.”

The guard obeyed. Mara checked the movement, made him stand, then watched him put weight on the leg before nodding. ”You’re fine. Try not to get tusked there again.”

Only then did she notice Arthur standing nearby with dried Blacktusk blood across his clothes.

Mara’s eyes travelled slowly over him. ”You injured?”

Arthur glanced down at the blood on his clothes. ”Not mine.”

”Shame. I was about to offer an examination.”

Rhea rubbed the bridge of her nose. ”Aunt Mara, don’t.”

Mara finally looked at her niece. ”I meant professionally.”

Arthur’s grin widened.

Rhea saw it. ”That’s exactly why I said don’t.”

Rhea nodded toward a long timber building on the far side of the yard. ”Garr needs to hear this. You two were there, so come on.”

Derren was already moving before she finished. Arthur followed beside him.

The hunter lodge smelled of leather, old smoke, and cooked meat. Long tables filled most of the room, while weapons, packs, and hunting equipment hung from racks along the walls.

An older wolfkin man stood near the back with a map spread across the table in front of him. Several wooden markers clustered around the eastern edge of the map. Garr stood over them with one hand braced against the table, a half-finished mug cooling near his elbow.

Rhea walked straight toward him. ”Garr. We found more.”

Rhea gave Garr the short version while Derren filled in what he’d seen during the attack. At least seven Blacktusks had gone down, all showing the same dark veins Rauk Hollow’s hunters had already been finding.

Arthur added what bothered him more. ”A deer and a forest cat crossed the road almost together. The cat barely looked at it.”

Garr’s finger moved across the map toward the western trails. ”That’s farther out than yesterday.”

Rhea nodded. ”And Hati crossed the Rauk Hollow road less than an hour from here.”

Garr’s hand stopped.

Arthur had heard Hati’s name enough times without learning much beyond enormous wolf. ”So who exactly is Hati?”

Garr leaned back against the table. ”A wolf who’s been living in the deep forest longer than anyone here can remember. Bigger than anything else you’ll find in these woods, and smart enough that we don’t treat him like an ordinary beast.”

Lysa added that Hati kept to a territory far from the roads, and generations of hunters had learned not to enter it without reason. In return, the wolf rarely bothered anyone beyond those boundaries.

Arthur glanced toward Rhea. ”So seeing his tracks this close to town...”

”Is bad,” she said.

The lodge door opened before Arthur could ask anything else. A hunter came in while pulling off one leather bracer, his ears pinned back and his clothes dusty from the road.

He noticed Rhea almost immediately. ”You didn’t happen to pass Torr’s group coming back?”

Rhea’s expression changed. ”No. Why?”

Torr’s group had gone east that morning to check the game trails where the animal movement had been worst. They should have been back before noon.

Garr looked toward the eastern edge of the map. Several wooden markers were already sitting there.

Rhea stepped closer to the table. ”How many went with Torr?”

”Three.”

Garr started putting together a search party for first light. Rhea volunteered before he’d even finished.

Derren raised a hand. ”I’m in too. I’ve done enough tracking work to be useful.”

Arthur listened for another moment before adding himself to the group.

Rhea looked over. ”You don’t know these woods.”

”Which is why I plan on following the person who does.”

One of her ears twitched, but she didn’t argue.

Lysa looked Arthur over. ”You’re the archer from the caravan?”

Derren answered before he could. ”He’s good.”

Arthur glanced sideways at him. ”See? Saved me the trouble of bragging.”

Garr settled it quickly. They would prepare tonight and leave at first light; there was no sense trying to follow old tracks through unfamiliar forest in darkness.

Uneven hoofbeats sounded outside before the preparations could go any further. A shout rose from the trading yard, followed by the scrape of something heavy stumbling across the dirt.

Rhea was through the lodge door first. Arthur and the others followed her onto the porch.

A heavy-horned trail beast stood in the middle of the yard with its legs spread for balance, coat slick with sweat and a damaged saddle hanging crooked across its back. One torn strap dragged through the dirt.

Rhea’s ears flattened, and her tail went rigid behind her.

Garr noticed the change. ”You know it?”

”Torr’s.”

Arthur approached the trail beast carefully. Blood had dried along one flank, but his attention settled on the ruined saddle.

Four deep grooves had cut through the heavy leather and bitten into the wooden frame underneath.

Derren came up beside him. ”Claws.”

Arthur held one hand beside the damage. The gap between two of the claw marks was wider than his palm.

He looked back.

Rhea was staring at Torr’s empty saddle, her ears pressed flat against her hair.