A low rumble echoed through the underbrush.

The distinctive, grey furred snout cut through the foliage. The powerful frame of the predator emerging into view as the wolfos pass through the brush with barely a sound. Through the canopy above, the fading light of dusk cast a haunting silhouette. A shadow among the shadows. The whites of the beast’s fangs resplendent as it opened it’s serrated maw, another low roll of growled thunder echoing through the trees.

Then two more appeared, as though demons of air and darkness. The wolfos pack padded around the opening in the brush, before finally the first vanished off into the other side of the clearing. The two others followed quickly behind, the wolfos passing into the night as silently as they had first appeared. 

A light emerged from beneath a leaf, as though a firefly had taken flight. The soft light blossomed until it was a softly pulsing orb. Butterfly wings, transparent, almost invisible, were illuminated on the back of the strange, otherworldly creature as it passed through the air to circle high up around another tree.

As it did, the fairy’s light revealed the face of a child. His small form concealed in shadow, as he crouched up in the branches over where the wolfos pack had ventured beneath. He’d been aware that they’d been hunted since departing the Kokiri Village, though it wasn’t until now that he could have given name or form to what lurked in the darkness. 

At least now he knew, though all things being equal, he didn’t like the idea of picking a fight with a wolfos pack. Particularly as he doubted the three that had been seen were all that was out there.

The boy dropped down to the path below. He paused there a moment, the dusky twilight reflecting from off a polished metal blade. He held the sword in a reverse grip, his other hand up in a boxer’s guard as he waited. He remained like that for awhile, listening to the sounds of the forest, as though questioning whether the wolfos would have doubled back in search of their prey.

After awhile, he straightened up, the sword still held at the ready as he used his free hand to gesture to the fairy. Then, like the wolfos, the boy moved into the brush with barely a sound to mark his passage.

They had traveled on without incident, when the boy suddenly stopped again. This time, kneeling near where low-hanging branches extended out toward the road. Some were broken, suggesting that someone had come through him.

The wind-swept, dirt path didn’t seem to bear evidence of anyone come though. At least, not recently. Someone had though, at some point close enough that the broken twigs and rustled branches were still present.

It was something he’d have to mention when he returned to the village. 

In the meantime, there was still a question of the Forest Temple. And so the boy continued onward.