Primitive Man

Chapter 17: Cenozoic Fang Wolves

As Ayra and Garnt stood together, their eyes fixed on the dense undergrowth ahead. The air seemed to hold its breath as if the very forest anticipated the unfolding scene.

And then, as if emerging from the very heart of the wilderness itself, three Cenzoic fang wolves stepped out into the open, their sleek forms moving with an eerie grace.

"They are here," Garnt whispered carefully pointing at the wolves.

The wolves moved with cautious deliberation, every step calculated and alert. Their keen senses seemed to be attuned to every rustle of leaves, every whisper of wind. As they approached the area, their heads lowered, and their noses twitched inquisitively.

The scent of the blood-soaked water gourd that Garnt had carefully placed as bait had captured their attention.

With eyes that held a fierce fusion of darkness and brown, they steadily advanced towards the gourd, their predatory instincts keen and unmistakable.

The very essence of the hunt seemed ingrained in their primal souls, and a palpable sense of anticipation hung in the air, almost as if it were a flavour they could taste.

However, their keen instincts soon kicked in. The moment they reached the gourd, a flicker of realization passed through their dark and brown-fused eyes. The scent was too strong, too deliberate. It was as if a trap had been laid out, a clever trap to ensnare them.

The lead wolf, the largest and most cunning of the trio, tilted its head slightly, eyes narrowing as it surveyed the surroundings. A low growl rumbled in its throat, a warning to its companions that something was amiss.

The other two wolves halted their advance, their lithe bodies tense and coiled like springs, ready to react to any threat.

Just as the realization fully dawned on them, a sudden movement of Ayra caught their attention but they were too late, as Garnt seized the opportunity.

The first wolf lunged, its jaws snapping hungrily, but Ayra swung the heavy log with astounding force, catching the wolf mid-air and sending it crashing into its companions.

The impact created a momentary gap in the encircling predators, and Garnt seized the opportunity, driving his dagger into a wolf's flank, eliciting a pained yelp.

As the fight continued to unfold, the forest became a chaotic battleground. Ayra's strikes were fierce and calculated, each swing of the log a testament to her strength and combat prowess.

She knocked wolves aside, her movements almost dance-like as she expertly navigated the melee, protecting Garnt's back whenever he was momentarily vulnerable.

Garnt, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of agility. His dagger became an extension of his arm as he parried and counterattacked with astonishing speed. His strikes were precise, finding the gaps in the wolves' defenses and leaving them wounded and disoriented.

The sound of clashing daggers and the wolves' pained cries filled the air.

The wolves, sensing their adversaries' unwavering determination, became more frenzied in their attacks. Yet, Ayra and Garnt fought on, their movements synchronized in a deadly dance of survival until Garnt felt something was wrong.

"Aunt, what's happening?" Garnt couldn't take his eyes off the enemies, so he shouted but no answers came from the other side. "Ayra, answer me,"

"Garnt, it looks like we are in a tight spot, I feel like my head is spinning. maybe because I haven't eaten anything in a few days, I'm sorry-" Upon uttering those words, her strength waned, causing her to slump against Garnt's back.

He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, preventing her from collapsing to the ground.

"Damn it! Eva, what am I going to do now? I can't abandon her and run," Garnt muttered in frustration, his voice tinged with desperation, as he found himself trapped in a truly dangerous situation.