The Alpha's Blood Hunt

The southern ridge offered a vantage point over the forest below, where the trees swayed in the cold wind like restless sentinels. Caleb Draven stood at the edge, his breath visible in the night air. His side throbbed where the revenant's claws had raked him, but he ignored the pain. Around him, his patrol regrouped, battered but alive.

Tobias knelt beside a tree, his hands shaking as he wiped the black tar-like substance off his blade. "What *was* that thing, Alpha?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The revenant," Caleb said, his tone grim.

Silence fell over the group, the weight of the revelation pressing down on them. They had heard the legends, the whispered tales of an ancient wolf risen from death itself, but none had truly believed it. Now, they couldn't deny the truth.

"It's not just a legend," Tobias muttered. "It's real. And it's hunting us."

Caleb turned, his piercing green eyes sweeping over his packmates. "It's hunting everyone, Tobias. Not just us."

Marcus's voice cut through the quiet as he approached, his group having returned from their northern patrol. "We found nothing in the north—no signs of movement, no scent trail. It's like this thing is toying with us, keeping us guessing."

"Or it's testing us," Caleb replied. "Seeing how far it can push before we break."

Marcus's gaze fell to Caleb's side, where the deep gashes still oozed faint streaks of blood. "That wound doesn't look good. You should let Nyra take a look at it."

Caleb waved him off. "I'll heal."

"Not if that thing left more than physical marks," Marcus countered.

The reminder of Darius's worsening condition brought a flicker of doubt to Caleb's mind. Was his own injury tainted with the same unnatural corruption? He couldn't afford to let it slow him down—not when the pack depended on him.

"Let's move," Caleb said, brushing aside the concern. "We're heading back to the den."

***

Nyra's face paled when she saw Caleb's wound. The healer moved quickly, cleaning the claw marks with a mixture of herbs and water, her movements precise but urgent.

"This isn't ordinary," she said, her voice tight with worry. "The edges of the wounds are… wrong. Like they're resisting healing, just like Darius's."

Caleb winced as the salve stung his skin. "What does it mean?"

Nyra hesitated, her hands pausing for a moment. "It means whatever that thing is, it's more than just a predator. Its claws carry something—something that lingers and corrupts."

"Can you counter it?" Caleb asked.

"I don't know yet," Nyra admitted. "I'll need time to study this."

Caleb nodded, though the pressure of time weighed heavily on him. "Do what you can. If this thing can spread its corruption, we're all at risk."

***

As the pack settled into an uneasy night, Caleb and Marcus met in the central chamber to discuss their next move. The fire between them crackled weakly, casting flickering light on their faces.

"We can't fight this thing head-on," Marcus said, his arms crossed. "Not until we know more about it."

"And waiting gives it more time to weaken us," Caleb replied, his tone sharp.

"Then what's the plan?"

Caleb leaned forward, his voice low. "We don't just need to fight it. We need to understand it—how it thinks, how it hunts. And for that, we need answers. The Whisperfangs have access to knowledge older than anything in this territory. If anyone knows how to deal with a revenant, it's them."

Marcus frowned. "The Whisperfangs aren't exactly known for their charity. They'll want something in return."

"I'll handle it," Caleb said firmly. "We don't have another option."

***

By the next evening, Caleb and a small group of Redfangs were deep in Whisperfang territory. The forest here was darker, the trees gnarled and twisted as if shaped by some ancient curse.

The Whisperfangs' den was hidden within a series of interconnected caves, their entrances obscured by thick vines and shadows. Caleb approached cautiously, his instincts on high alert.

A low growl greeted them as a figure stepped from the shadows. It was Lorne, the Whisperfang scout who had warned them days earlier.

"Alpha Draven," Lorne said, his tone cautious. "You're brave to come here uninvited."

"I'm here for answers," Caleb replied. "And I'm willing to trade for them."

Lorne raised an eyebrow. "What could the mighty Redfangs offer that we don't already have?"

Caleb stepped closer, his green eyes burning with determination. "Strength. Territory. Whatever it takes to stop this revenant before it wipes us all out."

Lorne studied him for a moment before nodding. "Follow me."

The group descended into the caves, the air growing colder with each step. The walls were lined with strange markings, ancient symbols that Caleb couldn't decipher.

In the largest chamber, they were met by the Whisperfang Alpha, a wiry man named Kael. His silver hair glinted in the dim light, and his piercing eyes seemed to see straight through Caleb.

"You want knowledge of the revenant," Kael said, his voice smooth but laced with danger. "That knowledge comes at a cost."

"What do you want?" Caleb asked, his voice steady.

Kael smiled faintly. "There's a rogue pack that's been encroaching on our land. They call themselves the Ashclaws. Take care of them for us, and I'll tell you everything we know."

Caleb's jaw tightened. The Ashclaws were notorious for their savagery, a pack of exiles and outcasts who fought with no honor. Taking them on would be no small feat.

"Done," Caleb said after a moment. "But I want your word that you'll give us everything—no half-truths, no games."

"You have my word," Kael said, his smile widening.

As Caleb and his group left the den, Marcus glanced at him. "Do you trust them?"

"No," Caleb admitted. "But we don't have a choice."

The night stretched out before them, the forest alive with unseen dangers. Caleb knew the task ahead wouldn't be easy, but he also knew the Redfangs couldn't afford to fail.

The revenant was out there, and it was only a matter of time before it struck again.