The Girl and the Wolf

Fourth Continent, Rising Wind Season, Autumn, Tilang Festival.

In the ninth year of the Rising Wind Season, this continent had passed the most brilliant period of the "Scorching Sun." The vitality carried by the wind fueled the growth of all things. Over several years, the animals in the mountains and forests multiplied in great numbers. Packs of wolves, chasing after abundant prey, bathed in the forest breeze and grew increasingly robust. No longer needing to skulk or hide, they absorbed the vitality of the "Scorching Sun" aspect, their gray manes stained with orange and crimson, becoming fiercer and more unruly.

A breeze brushed through the forest, and a pale yellow leaf with reddish edges drifted slowly from a branch, landing on the head of the young girl beneath the tree.

The dry, stiff edge of the leaf scraped against her snow-white, silky hair before sliding down with the wind and strands of hair, coming to rest on the leaf-strewn forest floor.

A young girl was currently in a standoff with a vicious wolf.

Sylutia watched the orange-red wolf, which was emitting a low growl, with a tense expression. One hand twisted the side of her skirt, while the other trembled slightly in the air. Her peripheral vision darted about, desperately searching for anything she could use.

Anything would do—a branch, a wooden stick—at least it would be better than facing this vicious wolf with her bare hands.

She could no longer recall why the memory preceding this was sitting on a bus returning to her hometown, only to wake up in this deserted forest the next moment. She had walked for an hour without finding any trace of human habitation. If not for the fact that everything before her and around her felt so real, she would have suspected she was dreaming.

"Grrr..." The low sound came again.

Baring its jaws, the Red Wolf revealed its interlocking canines and bright red gums. The orange-red mane on its back bristled slightly. It crouched low, its triangular eyes fixed on the silver-haired girl, seemingly judging the strength of its opponent. As a vicious wolf tainted by the "Scorching Sun" aspect, it had gradually transcended the category of ordinary beasts, possessing a sliver of intelligence.

The girl's snow-white, tender skin and clean, gentle scent all indicated that she was a rare delicacy. Although it had never eaten a human before, the instinct in its blood told it that the creature before it would be the most delicious meal of its life.

Eat her!

The Red Wolf moved. The girl barely saw how it leaped, but when the wolf's head was less than half a meter away, she managed to react.

She twisted her body to the side, her right hand shielding her chest. As the Red Wolf soared through the air, her slender fingers from within her sleeve nimbly pressed against the wolf's head. Her ring finger happened to press against the wolf's eyeball; the sensation of the stiff eyelashes and the moist orb made the girl's heart tighten, but she suppressed her fear and shoved the wolf's head away, causing it to pounce into empty air to her right.

After dodging the first attack, Sylutia had no time to think. She stumbled forward, bending down while running to grab a wooden branch she had spotted in the emergency. She turned back just as the Red Wolf lunged again.

Having fallen to the ground while grabbing the branch, Sylutia could not get up in time. She could only pull her lower legs in as far as possible to avoid being bitten.

Missing its target and biting only the hem of her skirt, the Red Wolf released its grip. With a murderous glint in its eyes, it lunged for Sylutia's throat again. This time, Sylutia thrust the wooden branch she was gripping toward the open maw, driving it inside.

The rough bark of the branch pierced the soft throat, triggering a violent gag reflex in the Red Wolf. It recoiled, shaking its head in an attempt to dislodge the branch from its throat.

Violent tremors and thrashing came through the branch in her hands. Sylutia knew she absolutely could not let the Red Wolf shake it loose. She gripped the lower end of the branch with one hand to keep it wedged in the wolf's mouth, while her other hand grabbed the fur on the back of the Red Wolf's neck, trying to pin it down.

The coarse, orange-red mane was prickly, and the neck muscle beneath the fur was difficult to hold. This guy is really sturdy, the girl couldn't help but think.

To prevent the Red Wolf from breaking free, she pressed her knees onto its body. Several times she was nearly thrown off, and the skirt beneath her was shredded by the wolf's claws, leaving stinging scratches on her legs through the fabric.

Time passed...

She didn't know how many minutes had gone by. Just as Sylutia felt she could no longer hold on, the Red Wolf's struggles beneath her finally began to weaken. Blood-red foam spilled from the wolf's mouth, but the girl still didn't dare to relax. She continued to drive the branch deeper into the Red Wolf's throat until it stopped moving entirely and its heart ceased to beat. Only then did she finally ease her tension and calm down slightly.

Slowly standing up, Sylutia realized her back was soaked with sweat and strands of hair were plastered to her forehead. She took a deep breath to steady her rapidly pounding heart, finally finding the leisure to survey her surroundings.

Orange, crimson, and a touch of black. Sylutia observed the fur of the dead wolf at her feet. She had never seen anything like it in her past, neither in shape nor color. In her memory, there were orange-red wolves in the Americas, but they looked nothing like the creature before her.

As her fingers brushed against the stiff fur, a subtle, intense heat radiated from it. The sensation was weaker near the roots but strongest at the tips, where it even felt slightly prickly.

[Tilang]

In the mid-to-late Rising Wind Season, wolf-type beasts become "Tilang" as their fur turns orange-yellow due to the influence of the "Scorching Sun" aspect. When their entire coat turns a flame-like crimson, they become Tier 1 "Red Wolves." These vicious "Red Wolves" pose a great threat to village residents and livestock, to the point that their image frequently appears in fairy tales.

Every year during this season, hunters organize to enter the mountains to cull them in advance. Some nobles also enjoy this activity; they hang the pelts of the "Tilang" they hunt in their living rooms as symbols of their honor and bravery. This activity eventually became a tradition in many regions, and the season itself came to be known as the "Tilang Festival."

Note: The pelts of "Tilang" and "Red Wolves" contain trace amounts of "Scorching Sun" aspect energy, providing excellent warmth during the winter. If preserved until the Season of Sinking Fog, their value increases further.

Blinking her eyes, Sylutia was astonished by the knowledge surfacing in her mind. Why did she know the origin of the dead wolf, and even understand parts of this world's history and customs?

It seemed she had quite a lot to figure out.

Slowly rising to her feet, she looked around and reached out to try and drag the wolf carcass, but its weight forced her to abandon the idea of taking it with her.

She had no knife at hand, so she couldn't skin or dissect it. Besides, she had never killed a wolf before and had no idea where to start.

After a few seconds of thought, Sylutia decided to continue walking out of the forest. She didn't know if the dead wolf's carcass would attract other creatures, but since she couldn't make use of it, she had no choice but to move away.

After resting for a few minutes, Sylutia tidied her disheveled clothes and hair and continued along the forest path. Judging by the sun's position, it was likely 3:00 or 4:00 PM, past the hottest part of the day.

She didn't know where to find food or a place to spend the night. The girl touched her stomach, feeling that she wasn't hungry just yet.

This body was clearly not her own, yet she felt no awkwardness when moving, as if she had always been this way. Walking through the forest, Sylutia slowly began to organize her memories.

She remembered clearly that she had received a call from her hometown and had applied for annual leave from her company to return.

Boarding the speeding high-speed rail, she left the big city where she had worked for several years, heading toward the hometown she had been away from for so long. Since graduating from high school, going to another city for college, and then starting work, the days she spent back home could be counted on one hand—mostly just those few days during the Lunar New Year.

Come to think of it, she hadn't walked through a mountain forest like this in a long time. The girl looked up, shielding her forehead with one hand, and gazed at the pale green and yellowing leaves above.

Every summer vacation as a child, she would go to stay with her grandparents for a long time. Their home wasn't in the city, but in a remote mountain village with rolling green mountains, a small river, and all sorts of animals.

Her grandfather raised a flock of goats, taking them to the mountains to graze every day. When Sylutia was little, she and her cousins would follow along. Everything in the forest was incredibly fresh to a girl raised in the city.

Chestnuts like spiky, split balls; bright red, appetizing snake berries by the mountain path; clusters of green berries; the peculiar bird calls she heard occasionally; and owls that were hard to distinguish from the fallen leaves—the existence of these things was like a splash of vivid color in a mundane life, making the young Sylutia exceptionally happy.

The childhood of a city kid was relatively dull. Recalling the past, most of her time was spent in school, at tutoring centers, doing homework, and taking exams. Only at her grandparents' house did no one urge her to study. She could play freely, and her aunt and uncle doted on her, asking what she wanted to eat and doing their best to satisfy her.

Dragonflies, fireflies, caterpillars, butterflies, and even snakes in the woodpile—these things she had only read about in books, she saw for the first time in that mountain village. Going there every summer vacation became the happiest time of her life.

Sitting on the bus to her hometown, she leaned against the window, recalling those past times. The sunlight outside the vehicle filtered through the roadside trees and fell upon her, making her vision blur for a moment.

Going fishing at this hour should be quite nice; if I could catch a few crucian carp for soup, that would be even better.

Crucian carp are relatively small fish, and they were the only kind she ever managed to catch as a child. Back then, there were only bamboo poles, silk lines, and hooks—nothing like the abundance of equipment available today.

After catching her first crucian carp, she and her older siblings huddled around the bucket, unsure of what to do. Should they release it back into the water? None of the children were willing to give up the fish they had worked so hard to catch, but as for eating it, the fish didn't look like it had much meat on it.

The silvery scales felt slippery in her hands, shimmering with a faint, iridescent glow when held up to the sun. A row of small dots ran along the lateral line on both sides of the fish, which the children found particularly fascinating.

In the end, their aunt helped them by cleaning the fish they had caught and turning them into fish soup.

"It's a pity Grandpa didn't get to taste it..." The young girl sighed with a hint of regret as she recalled the scene from when she was ten years old.

After that fishing trip, Grandpa heard about it and laughed, saying he hadn't gotten a taste and asking them to catch him one sometime. She and her siblings had readily agreed, but afterward, the adults, fearing the children might drown while playing in the water, never let them near the riverbank again.

The incident was slowly forgotten over time, until a few days ago when she received a phone call, learned the news of her grandfather's passing, and set out on the journey home.

I wonder if I will ever be able to return to that world. Perhaps even if I do return, it will be a very, very long time from now. Still, she couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia for the hometown in her memories, and for those beautiful recollections that warmed her entire childhood.

With her hands slightly outstretched to maintain balance, the young girl stepped lightly onto a stone hidden by withered leaves and headed down the mountain. After all these years, that sense of familiarity with the mountain terrain returned to her, allowing her to easily navigate the rugged slopes and thickets, weaving through layers of forest shade.

Thus, just before the sun was about to set, she crested the final small hill and saw the wisps of cooking smoke rising in the distance.

A quiet, rustic medieval village surrounded by fields appeared in her field of vision.

There were no familiar utility poles here, no smooth concrete roads—only houses built of stone and rough timber. A primitive windmill stood in the wheat fields, turning slowly, and stacks of straw were bundled and left out in the open fields.

When a carriage with iron-rimmed wheels slowly rolled along the dirt path and the Shield-Skin Exotic Beast pulling it came into view, Sylutia finally realized that this was an entirely different world. If she wanted to return to her homeland, she was afraid she had a very, very long road ahead of her.

Wasn't the script supposed to be that I receive a letter from Grandpa, return to my hometown to inherit the fields and pastures, and live a leisurely pastoral life far away from the daily grind?

The situation has truly taken a sharp turn for the worse, the girl thought, offering a silent retort before walking toward the village at the foot of the mountain.