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The two women glanced at each other again, clearly buying time, though their voices took on an increasingly rambling quality, words tumbling out faster than their thoughts seemed to form.

"Well, you see," Lira said, clasping her hands together nervously.

"It's actually kind of… well, confusing. There's the west path, which leads around the cliffs, but… um, the western cliff can sometimes look like the northern one, especially when the mist rolls in. And if you don't go exactly as the shadows fall… well, you could end up doubling back…"

"Yes! And there's that forest where the howling winds come from," Mareen added, nodding rapidly.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"It messes with your sense of direction. One moment you think you're going south, then you're somehow… walking east! People have been known to get lost for days, and by the time they make it out, they're nowhere close to where they started."

Volk's patience was wearing thinner with every word they spoke.

His massive fingers curled into fists, and he planted his feet firmly on the ground.

His gaze darkened, his lips pressed into a line, and a low growl escaped his throat.

He leaned closer, his voice a harsh whisper. "I don't care about wind tricks or shadow cliffs. I need you to show me the way. Just one point. One direction. Now."

But the two women, perhaps sensing his growing irritation, exchanged yet another wary glance, their nervousness clearly reaching new heights.

Mareen swallowed hard and continued, almost as if talking about their endless misdirections was the only thing keeping them safe from his wrath.

"But… but… it's not just about direction!" she stammered, clutching her necklace again as if it were a protective charm.

"Once you get past the ridges… there's this river. It's shallow enough to cross but… but only in certain places! And… and the water's strange, sometimes. People say it carries… curses.

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"It's why the Servithians use it as a natural barrier. We've only ever heard rumors about where to cross safely…"

"And then there are the stone pillars," Lira added, nodding fervently.

"They're ancient, from some forgotten era, and they hum with… energy. We've heard if you pass by them without knowing the right chant, they—"

Volk's patience snapped.

He stomped his foot on the ground with enough force to shake the nearby trees, and the two women yelped, stumbling back, eyes wide with terror.

"Enough!" he barked, his voice a rumbling thunder. "I get it. You're afraid. And I understand. But I'm not here to hurt you. I just need one direction. Just point. And everything will be fine."

The two women flinched but held each other's gaze, their expressions caught somewhere between reluctant trust and deep-seated fear.

Lira's hand trembled as she raised it, her index finger wavering as she pointed, hesitating as though the motion itself might bind her to a dire fate.

Mareen looked at her, clutching her arm tightly, and the two seemed to be silently weighing their options once more, almost as if even now they feared they might give him the wrong answer.

A pause hung in the air, and finally, as Volk's glare turned sharper than a honed blade, Mareen's eyes filled with panic.

She shouted, almost as if in desperation, "We… we don't know! We really don't! We've never traveled that far ourselves! We only know the rumors.

"We were just trying to escape the huntsmen — we never paid attention to how to reach the Foramina Kingdom. We have no idea!"

Tears streamed down the faces of Lira and Mareen, each drop glistening under the dappled light that broke through the forest canopy.

Their voices quivered as they sobbed, words spilling over one another in desperation.

"We're… we're just slaves," Mareen stammered, her fingers twisting the fabric of her tattered tunic. "They took us from our tribes… from our brothers… from sisters… mothers and fathers… our families…"

Lira nodded rapidly, her own voice choked with fear. "We don't know anything about Foramina, or the paths. We've only ever been brought to the outskirts to hunt… to fetch… We're just... tools for their hunger games, nothing more, nothing less."

Their words came out in a feverish rush, tangling over each other as if they feared every breath might be their last.

The forest around them seemed to echo their panic, amplifying their helplessness.

Volk's fingers tightened around the haft of his axe as his patience dissolved into a seething irritation.

"So… all of this," he growled, his eyes narrowing into an icy glare, "all this time I wasted… for nothing? You said all that stuff for nothing?"

Lira and Mareen recoiled, clutching each other tightly.

"Please spare us, we just want to live… we don't want to die…"

They looked at him with wild eyes, shaking their heads as if somehow, through sheer denial, they might alter the outcome. But the fire of his rage burned hotter.

"All because you couldn't say you didn't know?" His voice rumbled like distant thunder, a low and terrifying promise.

"Fine then. If you wasted my time," Volk lifted his massive axe, the blade glinting in the light, "I'll make sure you won't waste anyone else's."

He tilted the blade toward them, its weight gleaming with a predatory intent. "Don't worry. You won't feel a thing."

Just as he readied his swing, a sudden, mournful bark shattered the tense silence. Then another whimper, pitiful and lonely, broke through the clearing. It was followed by a low, sorrowful howl, echoing with the unmistakable sound of abandonment.

Volk froze, his brow furrowing.

The sound was… familiar.

His gaze turned away from the trembling women, his mind racing.

The hounds.

The blonde man's hounds.

He recalled their fierce snarls and loyalty to their master, but the pitiful sounds he now heard were the cries of animals left behind, abandoned in confusion.

It struck him with a strange clarity.

The blonde man had fled, leaving his own hounds behind. If the beasts were still around, maybe they had a trail.

Perhaps they could lead him back to their master, and he'd finally find the answer he sought.

Volk lowered his axe slowly, his rage transforming into a calculating gleam as he turned his gaze back to Lira and Mareen.

"Seems you're in luck," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice carrying an odd detachment. "You're free to go."

The two women blinked, their terror morphing into disbelief, and then into a tentative hope.

They dared not speak, too fearful it might shatter the miracle before them.

Volk didn't bother waiting for them to fully comprehend their escape.

He turned on his heel and marched toward the sound of the whimpers, leaving the two stunned women in his wake.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he heard them stumble away, whispering fervent prayers of gratitude.

He paid them no more mind.

His focus was now on the fading cries of the hounds, the abandoned beasts who could lead him straight to his quarry.

With a new way to thread to, Volk marched forward, his steps heavy and deliberate, his senses sharp.

He would track that blonde coward, find the answers he needed from the system, and, if the gods favored him, settle whatever unfinished business there is.