Aot:The Silent Witness

Chapter 20: The Hunt Begins

Ymir moved swiftly through the underbrush, her body weaving between the trees like a shadow. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, but beneath it, she could smell them—the wolves. They had vanished into the darkness, their massive forms melting into the forest, but she knew they were there. Watching. Waiting.

The village was in danger. The Marleyan forces weren't here just to pass through—they were here to stay. She had seen the banners, the campfires, the hardened men preparing for something bigger than a simple raid. If the villagers tried to flee, they would be hunted down. If they tried to fight, they would be slaughtered.

But now, Ymir had an edge.

She didn't know how, but she could feel the wolves. Their instincts, their movements. It wasn't speech. It was something deeper. A raw, primal connection, one that hummed at the edge of her thoughts.

And right now, they were following her lead.

Ember hovered beside her, his golden eyes flickering like candlelight. "I have to say, this is a first. You making friends with creatures that should probably be tearing you apart right now."

Ymir smirked but didn't break stride. "They know an enemy when they see one."

Ember's form flickered. "And you think they see Marley as that enemy?"

"I don't think," she murmured. "I know."

Ahead of her, the trees thinned, giving way to an open ridge. Ymir crouched low, using the cover of the rocks as she peered down into the valley below.

The Marleyan camp.

Even at this distance, she could see the soldiers moving about, rifles slung across their backs, armor gleaming in the moonlight. Their voices carried on the wind—sharp, commanding. Orders being given, preparations being made.

They weren't going anywhere.

Ymir's jaw tightened. If they finished setting up, the village was done for.

A flicker of movement at the edge of the camp caught her eye. Not a soldier. Something lower to the ground. Silent.

The wolves.

They had already taken their positions.

Ymir glanced at the leader—the massive, scarred wolf who had stood before her earlier. He was motionless, hidden just beyond the firelight, waiting for her command.

This wasn't just an ambush. It was a hunt.

She exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her knife.

Time to begin.

---

The first strike came in the dead of night.

A soldier standing watch barely had time to react before a blur of fur and fangs lunged from the darkness. A strangled cry was cut short as the wolf dragged him down, his rifle clattering against the rocks.

By the time the others turned, it was too late.

The wolves surged into the camp, massive bodies moving like shadows through the firelight. They didn't attack in a frenzy—they were precise. Strategic. Ymir had felt their intent, their understanding. This wasn't just survival. This was war.

Shouts erupted. Rifles fired.

Ymir moved in tandem with the chaos, slipping through the camp like a ghost. She avoided direct confrontation, using the confusion to get close to the command tent. If she could take out the officers, the entire operation would fall apart.

A soldier spotted her.

She reacted instantly. A quick sidestep, a sharp kick to the knee. He staggered, his grip on the rifle loosening—just enough for her to grab it, twist it, and drive the butt of the weapon into his skull.

He crumpled.

More shouts. More gunfire.

A wolf crashed through a supply tent, its powerful jaws clamping down on a man's arm, dragging him to the ground. Another soldier tried to aim, but before he could fire, Ymir was on him. A quick slash of her blade—sharp, efficient. He fell without a sound.

Ember drifted beside her, watching the carnage unfold. "You really are terrifying when you want to be."

Ymir didn't respond. She had a target.

The command tent was just ahead, its entrance flapping wildly in the wind.

She darted inside.

Three officers sat around a wooden table, maps and documents spread out before them. They barely had time to register her presence before she acted.

The first went down with a knife to the throat.

The second fumbled for his pistol—too slow. Ymir slammed his head against the table, the crack of bone muffled by the chaos outside.

The third scrambled back, his hand reaching for something under the table. Ymir lunged, but before she could reach him—

A gunshot rang out.

Pain exploded in her side.

She staggered, her vision swimming for a moment.

The officer smirked, aiming again.

Then a blur of fur crashed through the tent.

The leader of the wolves.

Before the officer could fire, the beast was on him. Teeth sank into his arm, yanking him sideways. He screamed, but it was short-lived.

Silence fell.

Ymir pressed a hand against her side, feeling the warm, sticky blood seep between her fingers. The pain was sharp, but not unfamiliar. She had taken worse before.

Ember hovered beside her, his golden eyes flickering over the wound. "You got shot. Again."

She exhaled sharply through her nose. "Yeah, I noticed."

Then, the air around her shifted.

A faint hissing sound filled the tent. Wisps of white steam curled from the wound, rising into the cold night air. The pain dulled almost instantly, the torn flesh knitting itself back together with unnatural speed.

Ember's gaze darkened. "That's new."

Ymir didn't answer right away. She watched as the steam billowed around her, curling like ghostly tendrils before fading into the night.

It had happened before—she had healed from wounds that should have taken days in mere minutes. But this was different.

This was faster.

The wolf beside her huffed, shaking its thick fur before turning toward the tent entrance. The sounds of battle outside had faded, leaving only the crackling of fires and the distant howls of the retreating pack.

It was over.

Ymir forced herself to her feet. The bullet wound was gone, but the blood remained, staining her tunic and dripping onto the floor. The sight of it—fresh, wet, real—grounded her.

"You think they saw that?" she murmured, glancing toward the ruins of the Marleyan camp.

Ember tilted his head. "The soldiers were too busy running for their lives. But if anyone was paying attention…" He gestured toward the steam still dissipating around her.

She cursed under her breath. If Marley saw this, they would know.

She wasn't just a survivor. She was something else.

Something unnatural.

The realization sent a cold shiver through her. She had spent so long hiding in the shadows, slipping between the cracks of the world. But if the wrong people noticed her healing—if they started asking questions…

Ember's voice cut through her thoughts. "Worry about that later. Right now, we need to get back to the village."

Ymir exhaled. He was right.

With one last glance at the ruined command tent, she stepped into the night, the last wisps of steam vanishing into the cold.

The wolf turned to her, its eyes meeting hers. No words passed between them. But she felt it.

The hunt is over.