But I wasn’t going to let it go so easily.
Not after all the trouble it had caused.
I wasn’t backing off until one of us stopped breathing.
I blinked in the direction it had run, chasing its fading presence. But I saw nothing—no rustling leaves, no movement. It could’ve doubled back or taken a sharp turn. Worse, I might’ve blinked ahead of it entirely.
I blinked upward, high into the air, rising above the treetops to get a full view of the forest. From this height, I could see everything. If it moved, I’d spot it. That was the idea, anyway.
But even from up here, there was no trace of it.
Almost like it had stopped moving.
Like it was hiding...
Waiting for me to give up.
Like hell I was going to give up.
There was no way I was going back to the clan without its head.
I blinked back to the ground and started searching again. That’s when I saw it.
Small streaks smeared across the bark of a tree. My brows shot up.
That’s right—I had injured the Mooncat. When I last saw it, the wound looked like it had closed. No bleeding. But now... it looked like the venom had undone that regeneration. Reopened the wound from the inside.
Even better—it meant it was bleeding again.
That meant it was trackable.
I blinked after the trail, zipping from one bloody smear to another. I didn’t even need to rely on sight entirely—my nose could pick up the iron tang in the air. The scent was sharp and unmistakable.
The deeper I followed, the more layered the trail became—clotted drips on leaves, sharp streaks across roots. Every step brought me closer, and the smell in the air grew denser.
Eventually, I came to a stop near a towering tree that dwarfed everything around it. Its trunk was thick and weathered, the bark dark and cracked like sun-dried leather. Twisting roots coiled out from the base, half-buried beneath moss and fallen leaves, forming arches and hollows like the bones of some ancient beast. Thick branches stretched wide and high, clawing at the sky through gaps in the canopy. A few broken ones jutted out like jagged spears, while others formed natural platforms.
Something about it felt different, and I knew the reason why immediately.
This was no ordinary tree.
Something felt off, still, but not empty.
Still cloaked. Still hiding.
But I didn’t need to see it anymore.
"Come down, you bastard," I called out, voice loud and sharp. "I’m not done with you."
The air shimmered slightly, and the Mooncat faded into view, perched on one of the thicker branches—its fur matted with sweat and blood, its breathing labored. Exhaustion painted across its feline face.
"You snake," it rasped. "You poisoned me!"
Its voice cracked at the edges. Like I’d cheated. Like it expected a fair fight.
The Mooncat, as if sensing my mockery, lunged at me with a furious snarl, fangs bared—but the leap was wild, unbalanced.
I blinked away before it reached me.
It stumbled mid-air, crashing down with a grunt and tumbling through the underbrush.
Then I reappeared beside it, bringing a gift.
My blade carved into its side again.
The Mooncat growled, grimaced, and tried to leap away—but it was sloppy, uncoordinated.
"You’ve gotten slower," I said with a grin, circling it like a predator now. "What happened to all that talk about tearing off my limbs? Biting through my spine?"
The beast snarled and lunged again, rage driving it forward.
I blinked sideways, narrowly dodging its claws, and delivered another slash across its back. The Mooncat turned quickly, pouncing again—more desperate than tactical—but this time I didn’t need to blink.
I ducked, bent low, and raked my blade upward.
A clean cut across its face—just under its eye. Blood sprayed as it howled in pain, stumbling back.
I closed the distance, pressing the attack. Slash after slash, blow after blow—I was looking for an opening, a clean shot at its throat, its heart—anything fatal. But even wounded, even poisoned, the Mooncat wasn’t done.
It guarded itself, moving with sharp, calculated motions. It covered its vitals, taking cuts on the limbs and flanks instead of risking death. Every now and then, it lashed out with terrifying precision.
It struck when I overreached. Fought like a veteran beast, which I had to admit was impressive. It wasn’t a feared predator for nothing.
I exhaled, keeping my breathing steady.
Its tenacity was no joke.
But I wasn’t worried.
I had landed a dozen clean hits. And every cut dripped with poison. Its body was weakening. It was only a matter of time.
The Mooncat swiped again—a sharp horizontal slash—but I leapt back. Then I snapped forward with one clean motion and shhhnkt—took out a few of its clawed fingers.
It cried out and stumbled back again.
I frowned. "It can still do that?" I thought. Even in this state?
With how much it was bleeding, I could smell its trail now like smoke in the air. The metallic scent of its blood was thick, like fog clinging to my nose.
"Come on, King of the Forest," I shouted, taunting it. "Is this how it ends for you? Quietly, like a coward?"
I pointed my blade straight at the space I knew it was hiding.
"Come out and die like a beast worth remembering."
The Mooncat spat, eyes burning with hate as it shimmered back into view. Its face twisted with fury and pain, and with a guttural growl, it launched itself at me once more—teeth bared, claws outstretched—but I was ready.
I blinked one last time—sidestepping its charge—and reappeared right beside its head.
My grip tightened around Gravefang as I brought it down the back of its neck.