Kain's journey carried him steadily northwest. The days passed beneath skies that shifted between pale blue and overcast grey, the air warming slightly each afternoon before cooling again each night. He kept to the less-trodden paths—animal trails, old logging routes, anything that curved away from the main roads. It was slower this way, but safer. Fewer prying eyes. Fewer questions.
By the third day, the forest began to rise around him in gentle hills, the brush thinning slightly, replaced by tall grass and granite outcrops. The trees here were older, their trunks wide and gnarled, their roots twisting like claws through the earth.
It was on the fourth morning, just after dawn, that Kain saw it.
A black cat, perched atop a boulder a few paces ahead of him on the trail.
Its fur was deep midnight, absorbing the early light rather than reflecting it. Eyes like polished emeralds locked onto his the moment he noticed it. The creature sat with regal stillness, tail curled around its feet, head tilted slightly as if amused by something he couldn't see.
Kain slowed to a stop.
"…Where the hell did you come from?"
The cat blinked once, lazily, then leapt down from the boulder and landed soundlessly on the path in front of him. It took a few slow steps toward him, then stopped again, still staring.
Kain squinted. "Not exactly normal trail wildlife."
The cat turned around and padded off into the brush—only to reappear seconds later on the other side of the path, circling behind him.
Kain narrowed his eyes. "You're following me now?"
The cat meowed again, then sat down beside a tree, tail flicking. Watching.
Kain debated leaving it behind, but when he turned to keep walking, the cat trotted after him. It didn't make a sound, didn't demand food, didn't try to climb onto his gear—it simply kept pace. Silent. Curious. Persistent.
By nightfall, it was still with him. Sitting beside his fire. Watching the flames. Every so often, Kain would glance at it, and it would already be staring at him.
"Either you're someone's lost pet," he muttered, "or something's strange about you."
The cat offered no response, save for the occasional blink.
Despite himself, Kain didn't mind the company.
Kain slowly began to fall asleep
The fire had burned low, flickering embers casting orange glows across the trees. Kain sat with his back against a log, his cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders. The black cat lay curled beside him, already asleep, its chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Kain stared at the sky — a ceiling of stars stretching endlessly above him. Cold, clear, and uncaring.
Eventually, exhaustion took him. His eyelids grew heavy. His breathing slowed. The forest faded from his awareness.
***
The air was hot and buzzing with flies.
Gunfire cracked in the distance. The sharp staccato of assault rifles echoed off the concrete rubble. Dust hung in the air like smoke, and the acrid scent of gunpowder filled his lungs.
Kain's back was pressed against the wall of a ruined building. Sweat ran down his temple. His sniper rifle was clutched tightly in his gloved hands. Every sound was too loud. Every breath, a countdown.
Then the radio crackled.
"Take the shot. Top floor, east window."
He leaned out just far enough. There — a silhouette moved behind shattered glass. Civilian? Combatant? He couldn't tell. The scope danced slightly as adrenaline surged through his arms.
"Do it!"
He fired.
The body crumpled.
Screams broke out. Women. A child.
No.
He shook his head, as if he could rewind it. As if guilt were a switch to be flipped.
Then came the explosion.
The street below erupted, shrapnel flying like razors. Kain was thrown off his perch — the world tumbling in a blur of dust and pain. His ears rang. His vision blurred.
***
Kain woke with a jolt. His hand had reached for a rifle that wasn't there. His heart thundered. Cold sweat clung to his neck and back.
He sat up, breathing hard. The fire was nothing but ash now.
The forest was quiet. The cat was no where to be seen, and for a long moment, Kain didn't move a muscle
"…Go back to sleep," Kain whispered, only for himself to hear.
But he didn't.
Not for a long time.
As the sun began to rise on the fifth morning of Kain's journey, the warmth of Desmain felt like a distant memory.
Kain stood at the edge of his camp, rolling up his bedroll with a practiced efficiency. The air had grown noticeably colder overnight, and a thin layer of frost clung to the surrounding grass. His breath curled in front of him in pale streams. He pulled his scarf up over his nose and tightened his armor.
'I'm gonna have to get some winter cloths.' Kain muttered to himself as he stared into the distance.
Trees were thinning, their bark paler, their leaves long gone. The terrain had begun to rise gently into hills, and the sky overhead was iron-gray with thick, slow-moving clouds. In the distance, faint glimmers of snow could be seen coating the peaks.
Kain adjusted the strap of his satchel and pressed forward. Rovalt couldn't be more than three or four days out now.
The wind began to bite harder as midday approached. Snowflakes started to drift down, light at first, but gradually thickening. The world fell into a quiet hush, broken only by the crunch of Kain's boots.
That silence didn't last long.
A low growl echoed through the trees.
Kain stopped.
Then came the sound of movement — fast, heavy, and close.
From the treeline ahead, three beasts emerged.
They were lupine in shape, but easily the size of a horse. Their fur was mottled black and gray, hanging in ragged clumps. Long, twisted horns jutted out from the sides of their heads, and their eyes glowed faintly with a sickly green hue. Saliva dripped from mouths filled with jagged teeth.
Frostfangs.
Kain had read about them before — predators that roamed the outer reaches of the north, hunting in silence and killing without hesitation. A mutated mess of inbreed beasts.
The lead beast snarled, pawing at the ground like it was preparing to charge.
Kain unsheathed his sword in one fluid motion, the metal gleaming dully under the snow-filtered light. His breath came slow and steady. He lowered his stance.
The first one lunged.
Kain sidestepped, dragging his blade along its ribs as it passed — a spray of dark blood staining the snow.
The second came from his flank. He pivoted, slashing upward just in time to catch it across the face, spitting its jaw in two. It yelped and tumbled, crashing into a tree.
The third was faster. It leapt toward him with a snarl.
Kain dropped to one knee and drove his sword upward through its chest.
The beast let out a choking howl, then collapsed in a twitching heap.
The remaining two circled warily, blood steaming from their wounds.
But they didn't stay.
Snarling, they turned and bounded back into the trees, leaving red trails in the snow behind them.
Kain stood still, watching the forest for several moments before exhaling and lowering his blade.
He wiped the blood clean, then glanced back.
The black cat from yesterday was licking the blood pouring out from the Frostfang that he had managed to kill.
'Where does this cat keep coming from?'
Kain shook his head, then continued forward, boots crunching over blood-stained snow.
The cold deepened. The wind howled through the branches. And Rovalt drew ever closer.
The cat clawed its way up Kain's back and rested itself on his shoulder.
'Aww, look at this cutie.' Kain turned his head to look at the cat but it jumped back of his shoulder.
'Cats will be ca— what the fuck?'
It was gone.
The cat was once again no where to be seen, but this time it didn't just walk away, it had vanished completely.
Kain squatted down and studied the paw prints the black cat had left behind. It looked like the cat had landed on the ground and then, was gone.
He couldn't find any other paw prints stemming from the cats initial landing.
Kain furrowed his brow, his breath misting in the freezing air as he stared at the final imprint.
A perfect pawprint. Sharp. Defined.
And then — nothing.
No scuffs. No drag marks. No leap or run or blur of motion. Just absence.
He reached down and touched the spot. The snow was undisturbed beyond the print — no heat, no trace of melting or compression.
"What the hell are you?" he muttered under his breath.
A sudden gust of wind whipped through the trees, sending a flurry of snow swirling around him. Kain stood slowly, eyes scanning the woods. The silence that followed felt off now. Heavy. Watchful.
He pressed his hand to the hilt of his sword, just in case.
The cat had shown up too many times to be coincidence. It wasn't just wandering. It was following him. Or maybe… guiding?
He shook the thought away. The cold was getting to him.
The snow was falling heavier now, clumping in thick flakes that clung to Kain's shoulders and scarf. The wind had grown wilder with every step, turning the air into knives that cut against exposed skin.
It was late afternoon when Kain finally spotted it — smoke curling gently from crooked chimneys, barely visible through the white haze. A village. Small, maybe a dozen houses at most, tucked against the foot of a steep ridge.
He approached slowly, wary. Villages this far north were rare, and those who lived in them weren't always the welcoming type.
But as he entered the main path between the houses, all he saw were tired eyes behind frosted windows, curious glances from doorways, and a few bundled figures moving slowly through the snow.
A wooden sign swung above a door on rusted chains — Lowland's Rest. An inn. Small, but solid. Warm yellow light spilled from its shuttered windows.
Kain stepped inside, the heat washing over him like a wave. The scent of stew and pine smoke filled the air. A heavyset woman behind the counter looked up, startled for a moment, then nodded silently.
Kain planted down a few gold silver coins from his satchel. "Can I just get a meal, and a room if you have one."
"Of course." The woman replied. "I've only got 3 rooms in this inn but no ones staying here at the moment so you can take your pick."
She Gestured toward a key rack that was nailed onto a support beam to Kain's left. He grabbed the middle key and but it in his satchel.
"Thanks." Kain said as he sat down at one of the few tables crammed into this small building.
"There's a trader down the lane," she said, jerking her thumb toward the back door. "Name's Brell. Keeps warm gear for travelers. Rooms are back there as well."
After a few minutes the woman walked out from the back of the bar and brought out a plate of freshly cooked mutton, bread and steamed vegetables.
She walked out to the table Kain was sitting at and sat the plate down in front of him, handing him a knife and fork.
"Enjoy," She said with a smile as she walked away. Kain nodded his head and dug into his dinner.
After another few minutes, Kain walked out the back door of the inn and found the trader that the inn keeper told him about. It was a squat, narrow building with furs hanging from a rack out front — bear, elk, even what looked like frost lion.
Inside, Brell was hunched over a bundle of leather straps, binding them with gloved hands. He looked up, his beard dusted with grey and ice.
"You look half frozen," he grunted.
Kain nodded. "A heavy cloak. One that'll last."
The merchant led him to a rack near the back. "Wolf fur," he said, brushing the edge of a thick grey cloak. "Killed it myself last winter. Big bastard. You won't find warmer."
Kain ran a hand over the fur. It was thick, coarse, and heavy in his arms. He gave a short nod and handed over a gold coin.
Brell wrapped it for him, but Kain pulled it on immediately, letting the weight settle across his shoulders. The wolf's fur draped over him like armor against the wind.
As he stepped outside, the snow was beginning to let up. The wind still howled above the trees, but the cloak held back its bite.
He looked down the road leading further into the mountains — tomorrow's path.
Tonight, though, he would rest. One more fire. One more night of sleep — or nightmares — before the final stretch to Rovalt.
And perhaps… the cat would return.