chapter 3 first step into the wildlands

The cliffs were quiet now, the storm reduced to the occasional gust of wind that swept the wet stones. Maun’s cries had softened, the newborn’s small body trembling against Seryth’s strong chest. Around them, the humanoid Lunaris pack watched with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Their pale silver eyes reflected the last flashes of lightning, alert to every sound and movement.

Seryth moved carefully, her long legs and precise steps navigating the slippery cliffs. Each footfall was deliberate; the rocks slicked with rain and blood demanded respect. She could feel the child’s life, fragile yet stubborn, pressed against her heart. Behind her, the pack murmured uneasily.

“He is human,” one of the younger Lunaris whispered, stepping closer. “We should leave him. Humans cannot survive here.”

Seryth’s silver eyes narrowed. “He cries for life,” she said softly, letting the words carry across the wind. “And life… is sacred.”

She knelt at the edge of a narrow path, her hand hovering above Maun. Every instinct told her to hesitate — the cliffs dropped sharply, predators could be anywhere, the storm could return at any moment. Yet, the child’s tiny whimpers drew her forward, step by careful step.

The pack followed silently, their humanoid forms moving with an uncanny grace. Muscles coiled like springs under rain-soaked skin, each member alert to every shadow, every sound. A sudden snap of a branch made the younger members freeze. Seryth’s hand went up, stopping them. “Observe first. React later.”

From the underbrush, a faint movement caught their eyes — a small humanoid scout, its silver markings glinting in the wet light. It watched them silently, tilting its head as if questioning the child’s place in this world. Maun stirred against Seryth’s chest, his cries rising, small and insistent.

> “He is fragile,” one whispered.

“He is alive,” Seryth corrected, her voice low but firm. “That is enough.”

They continued along the cliffside, the forest ahead dark and heavy with shadows. Rain had soaked the ground, and the air smelled of moss, wet stone, and iron. Maun squirmed in Seryth’s arms, fascinated by the scents and sounds, unaware that every gust, every rustle, carried danger.

After hours that felt like days, they reached a small clearing where the light filtered weakly through the canopy. Seryth set Maun down gently on the soft moss. He toppled immediately, small hands grasping at the damp earth, but his eyes widened in wonder at the forest around him.

Rhaen crouched beside him, his expression unreadable. “He must learn,” he murmured. “The forest is his teacher now.”

Maun crawled forward, touching leaves, roots, and wet stones. Each sensation was new: the rough bark, the cold moss, the slick touch of rain on his skin. His curiosity grew, overriding the instinctive fear that pulsed within him.

Then he saw it — a small collection of bones, half-buried in moss and mud. Animal remains, long stripped of flesh, yet still stark and unforgiving. Maun froze, tiny fingers brushing the edge of a skull. His eyes widened, the weight of the forest’s lesson pressing on him before he even understood it: life was fragile, and death was close.

Seryth watched silently, her hand ready to guide him, yet letting him discover this truth for himself. This was the first step — not just into the wildlands, but into survival itself.

Maun touched the remains again, more confidently now, the fear turning into understanding. The world was dangerous. The forest demanded respect. And for the first time, the newborn felt a glimmer of the strength that would one day define him.

Author's note: if you find this chapter interesting, do forget to like and comment below. If you have any ideas for the novel, please express yourself.🥹🥹😊😊😊

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