Never could I have fathomed that our quest to find the Muroj would span so many moons.
These cannibalistic denizens of the shadowed wilds spoke no tongue known to civilized folk, for they were creatures of the old darkness—untamed, unfettered by the laws of man or kin.
It was Chester, bold to the point of folly, who first dared address them. Dread coiled in my gut, for I knew not what fate the Fates themselves had spun for him in that moment.
“Hunger gnaws! Man-flesh walks!” one of the Muroj crooned, its voice a guttural melody, eyes gleaming with predatory mirth. Yet Chester, ever defiant, met the creature’s madness with a swift blow—his hand striking the savage’s cheek. At once, the rest of the tribe bared their fangs, not the dull teeth of men, but the cruel, glistening fangs of wolv
