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Alterac

"Lord Uther, the people you asked for have arrived."

The soldier brought Jonathan and Sally before Uther. Desperation showed through their anxious expressions. Before they could speak, Uther raised a hand to stop them.

"We haven't found him." Uther closed his eyes, as though pronouncing Nathanos's death sentence.

The moment Sally heard those brief words, she began to cry. Jonathan's face went deathly pale as well. He stood there dumbly, not comforting his wife, breathing rapidly as he looked at Uther, hoping this devout believer in the Holy Light could offer him some hope.

"Today is already the third day," Uther said. "If we still can't find Nathanos today, I'll have to tell his parents everything."

"No, no, that can't be!" Jonathan shook his head desperately. He simply could not believe it. "What did that child do wrong? Why would the Holy Light treat him this way?"

"Nothing will happen to Nathanos. I don't believe it! He has to still be alive," Sally said through her sobs. Guilt and grief hung over the three of them.

Uther sat down weakly and covered his forehead. For the first time, the sense of defeat made him doubt his faith. Over the past few days, he had called upon the Holy Light countless times to guide him, but the cruel reality had steadily crushed the last hope in his heart. Everyone knew that no one could survive three days in the wilderness of Alterac, much less Nathanos, who was only a child. Uther knew he had no right to stop Jonathan and Sally from venting their grief. He stood and bowed deeply to them.

"I... I promised her mother. I promised I would take good care of..." Sally choked out. "Daphne will never... never forgive us!"

Every word stabbed into their hearts. Jonathan reached out and embraced his increasingly distraught wife. He wondered whether all this could have been avoided if he had not taken Nathanos to Lordaeron in the first place. Despair filled Jonathan's heart. How was he supposed to explain all this to Bred?

"You two, I want to face whatever final result the soldiers bring back with you. If... if the outcome is the worst possible, please take me to see his parents. I... I will tell them the truth with deep remorse, then accept their anger and grief."

"We'll face it together, Lord Uther," Jonathan replied. "Bred cherishes Nathanos dearly. He said that child came into this world blessed by the Holy Light, but now the Holy Light has abandoned him. It has abandoned everyone."

"No!" Uther said, his voice trembling. His faith was being tested, yet he still clung to the final sliver of hope in his heart.

The soldiers sent out to search returned one after another. After such a massive rescue effort, every spark that symbolized hope had been extinguished. They had found nothing.

On the fourth day, Marius Farm received the terrible news. Daphne Marius fell unconscious.

On the fifth day, Bred cursed everyone who knew Nathanos, including Uther. Daphne woke up and wept until she lost her voice.

On the sixth day, Bred drank himself into a stupor, while Daphne never stopped crying. Everyone believed Nathanos was dead.

Survival of the fittest. When the Creator built the framework of the world, it had clearly left no room for the weak to survive. Living creatures had to become familiar with nature's cruelty if they wished to live. Otherwise, only death awaited them.

The bright moon looked the same as it had on the previous days he had seen it. Alterac's snowy season had arrived, and shadows blocked his vision. He had to stop. Beneath a layer of rock gleaming in the moonlight, he curled his freezing body into a crevice below, trying to find a trace of warmth. Out of habit, he stuffed a handful of snow into his mouth. He was not sure whether his tongue could still distinguish flavors, but the bone-piercing cold told him he was still alive. He tore off a small strip from his tattered vest, shoved the "dry provisions" in his hand into his mouth, chewed a few times, and swallowed, giving his unruly stomach something to do for a while.

As he savored that delicious meal, the sound of grinding teeth suddenly reached his ears. From beneath a rock on the other side, a dark figure rose, shook off the snow covering its body, and opened its eyes to inspect the prey it had waited so long for. He held the branch that had protected him all this time before him. It was cold, like a spear forged from raw iron. The wolf circled him and slowly approached. Its claws were like steel, its fur black as night, and its red-glowing eyes were like gems gleaming in hell.

The Great Wolf sniffed at the boy's scent, drooling over the delicacy about to enter its mouth.

He looked behind him. There was a narrow passage, with stone walls on both sides. Facing the beast, he felt no fear. Holding his breath, he slowly backed away. The passage grew narrower and narrower. Then he reached his chosen position, set his stance, and aimed the sharpest end of the branch at the "hunter."

The Great Wolf bared its sickle-sharp fangs and leaped at its prey, extending its forelegs in an attempt to knock him down before crushing his neck with its teeth. The boy fell backward with the momentum and slipped into the narrowest crevice. After a heavy impact, the Great Wolf howled beneath the moon. Its skull had become wedged between the rocks, and it could not break free. Its claws could not reach its prey. Its eyes still refused to let go of the delicacy before it. If it broke free from its restraints, it would surely make this cunning little creature pay.

Fear did not engulf the boy. It only made him more vigilant. The large creature before him was no longer capable of harming him, while the cold air around him filled his lungs.

The night had grown deep, and the cold wind howled. He breathed in front of it, making the Great Wolf furious. It howled again: "Awooo..." The dark clouds above that had tried to cover the full moon were blown away. The boy's hands were steady, thanks to months of practicing sword forms for hours every day. His stance was perfect! With a single forceful strike, the branch in his hand pierced the Great Wolf's bloody mouth.

Tonight demonstrated a simple truth—hunters could become prey at any moment.

Wolf hide was warmer than the vest he had nearly eaten away, and wolf meat, though reeking of blood, could fill him with strength once more. He also discovered that wolf blood tasted like liquid lead.

On the seventh day, a group of sentries patrolling at the foot of the Alterac Mountains spotted a boy in the distance, draped in pitch-black animal hide and covered in bruises. He looked as ragged as a beggar, struggling to step out of the ice and snow onto the fertile land of Lordaeron. The sentries immediately surrounded him. His appearance shocked them, as though he had survived a disaster. The lead sentry looked at the boy's face, and the boy looked back at him without saying a word. That face, covered in several scratches, seemed increasingly familiar to the sentry captain. He took out a search warrant issued in Alterac several days earlier and compared it carefully. His hands trembled in shock, and he weakly let the parchment fall to the ground. On it was drawn a youthful face, unscarred and not disheveled, but bearing the same name as the boy—Nathanos Maris.