Chapter 6:Wandering into Danger

( Penny’s POV)

I waited until his breathing was deep and steady again ,real sleep this time, not the drugged half-consciousness from earlier. The cave had grown colder, the silvery light dimming as whatever passed for day here slipped toward something darker. I couldn’t stay forever. The howls had faded to almost nothing, but that didn’t mean safety. It just meant the hunters had moved on… or were circling back.

I looked at Genesis one last time.

He looked almost peaceful now, brow smoothed, mouth no longer twisted in pain or suspicion. The bandages on his side were still mostly clean; the bleeding had slowed to a seep. His body was doing the impossible work I’d only ever typed about.

I whispered, “Don’t die while I’m gone, okay? I’d hate to have saved you for nothing.”

No answer. Just the soft rise and fall of his chest.

I crawled to the entrance, peered out.

The forest was quiet. Too quiet. No birds. No wind. Just the faint rustle of leaves settling after whatever storm of violence had passed through.

I slipped out.

The air hit me like a slap, sharper, colder than inside the cave. My socks were soaked through, caked with mud and pine needles. My hoodie was torn at the sleeve, stained with his blood. I looked like I’d been through a war zone. Which, technically, I had.

I moved slowly at first, testing each step, listening for any sound that didn’t belong. When nothing pounced, I picked up speed. Not running. Not yet. Just purposeful walking. Away from the cave. Away from the clearing where the village had burned. Toward… something. Anything that looked like civilization.

The trees thinned after what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes. My legs ached. My stomach growled, loud enough that I winced and pressed a hand to it. I hadn’t eaten since the sad cafeteria sandwich at the school. My water bottle was half-empty; I took tiny sips, rationing.

Then I smelled it.

Smoke.

Not the sharp, chemical smoke of a house fire. Woodsmoke. Cooking smoke. Life smoke.

I followed it.

The trees gave way to a narrow dirt path, trodden, well-used. Hoofprints. Boot prints. No tire tracks. No cars. No power lines. Just earth and sky and the faint glow of firelight ahead.

I slowed.

A village. Smaller than the one that had been attacked. Maybe twenty houses, wooden, low-roofed, some with thatched tops, some with slate. Lanterns hung from porches. A central fire pit crackled, people gathered around it. Not many. A dozen, maybe. Men, women, a few children clinging to skirts.

They looked… normal. Tired. Wary. Human.

Relief crashed through me so hard my knees nearly buckled.

I stepped out from the tree line, hands raised, palms out.

“Hello?” My voice cracked. “I… I need help. Please.”

Heads turned.

A woman, middle-aged, apron dusted with flour—saw me first. Her eyes widened. She grabbed the arm of the man beside her.

“Who goes there?” he called. Deep voice. Suspicious.

“I’m… lost,” I said, because it was the simplest truth. “I was in the forest. There was fighting. I just need somewhere to rest. Water. Maybe food. I can help—I’m a nurse. I can look at injuries if anyone’s hurt.”

Murmurs rippled through the group.

A girl, maybe twelve, peeked around her mother’s leg and stared at me like I was a ghost.

The man stepped forward. Broad shoulders, graying beard, eyes hard.

“You’re not from around here.”

“No,” I admitted. “I’m… from very far away.”

He studied me, hoodie, leggings, blood-streaked socks, backpack. I must have looked insane.

“You smell of Silverfang,” he said quietly.

My stomach dropped.

“I helped one of them,” I said. “He was wounded. I bandaged him. That’s all.”

The woman beside him sucked in a breath.

“You helped a wolf?” she whispered.

“He would have died otherwise.”

Silence.

Then the man exhaled through his nose.

“Come to the fire,” he said at last. “Warm yourself. Eat. Then you’ll tell us everything.”

I almost cried with relief.

They led me to the fire pit. Someone pressed a wooden cup of water into my hands, cool, clean, tasting faintly of minerals. I drank too fast, coughed. A bowl of stew followed, thick with root vegetables and what might have been rabbit. I ate like I hadn’t in days.

They watched me the whole time. Not hostile. Not welcoming. Just… watchful.

When the bowl was empty, the gray-bearded man, Eldric, he said his name was, sat across from me.

“Now,” he said. “Tell us how a human woman with no scent of pack ends up in our woods after a raid, reeking of alpha blood.”

I told them—most of it. The forest. The battle. The wounded man. The cave. I left out the part where I’d written this world into existence. That felt too insane, even for me.

They listened.

When I finished, Eldric rubbed his beard.

“You saved one of theirs,” he said slowly. “That makes you dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” I echoed.

“To us,” the woman, his wife, Mara, said. “The Crimson Claw will come looking for survivors. If they smell Silverfang on you…”

I swallowed.

“And if the Silverfangs find out a human helped their prince…” Eldric trailed off.

I hadn’t thought of that.

“I just wanted to help,” I said weakly.

Eldric studied me for a long moment.

“You can stay the night,” he said at last. “In the barn. We have blankets. Food. But at first light, you leave. We can’t risk keeping you.”

I nodded. Grateful. Terrified.

They gave me a blanket, rough wool, smelling of sheep, and a lantern. Led me to a small barn behind the last house. Hay bales. A few goats chewing cud in the corner. A narrow cot someone had dragged in.

I collapsed onto it the second the door closed.

Exhaustion hit like a wave.

I curled under the blanket, backpack hugged to my chest like a teddy bear.

Tomorrow I’d figure out how to get back to the cave. Check on Genesis. Find a way out of this world.

Tomorrow.

But as sleep pulled me under, I heard it, soft, distant, unmistakable.

A howl.

Not angry this time.

Searching.

And closer than it should have been.