Emi

It started with one bite.

The hunting party had been out since morning, moving swiftly through the dense undergrowth. The air was crisp, the scent of prey thick in the wind. It should have been a routine hunt, one like any other.

Emi led them, as she always did. She was the strongest wolf in the party, her experience unmatched, her instincts sharp. Aqua moved like a shadow beside her, her melanistic coat blending seamlessly with the darkness of the trees. Hanako, skilled in tracking, had been the first to catch the scent of a herd moving toward the river. Miko and Reina followed close behind, ready to chase and bring down their quarry.

They were coordinated, efficient, precise.

Until they weren't.

Hanako had just given the signal—a flick of her tail, the slightest shift in stance—when the scent of something else curled into the air.

Something wrong.

Emi froze, muscles tensed, ears swiveling. The others hesitated as well, sensing the change in the atmosphere.

The wind carried a smell that was familiar, yet off. A wolf—female, but decayed, unnatural. The scent was sharp, pungent, like meat left to rot in the sun.

Then, they saw her.

She emerged from the trees, staggering at first, before her movements steadied into something too controlled, too purposeful. Her pelt, once thick and full, was patchy, matted, streaked with blackened blood. Ribs showed beneath her torn flesh, and her eyes—her eyes were clouded, dead, and yet somehow still watching.

A wolf.

But not a wolf.

Emi's snarl came first, low and warning. The others fanned out, instinctively forming a defensive arc, hackles raised.

The she-wolf did not speak.

She did not growl, did not bare her fangs in warning.

She only moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

She lunged at Hanako first, jaws snapping inches from her throat. The pack exploded into action, meeting the attack with force—but it didn't stop her.

Hanako struck her shoulder, teeth sinking in. No reaction.

Miko slashed at her hind leg. No hesitation.

She should have felt it. She should have flinched, backed off, yelped—but she didn't.

Instead, she turned her head, eyes locking onto Emi.

And then, she bit.

The pain was instant.

Emi's shoulder burned as the she-wolf's teeth sank deep, the wound hot, unnatural, wrong.

Emi reacted on instinct, twisting sharply, slamming her full weight against her attacker. The she-wolf stumbled, but she didn't release her grip.

Not until Aqua struck.

Precise, efficient—a killing bite.

The body twitched, spasmed, and then went still.

For a long moment, none of them moved. The forest was silent, but the air still felt thick, unnatural.

Then Hanako turned to Emi, eyes wide, nose twitching as she sniffed the wound.

"…It stinks," she whispered.

And it did.

The bite smelled of rot.

Not just infection.

Something worse.

Something they did not understand.

The Attempt to Save Her

They ran home.

Emi tried to tell them she was fine, that it was just a wound—but she could feel it creeping through her veins.

She was burning.

By the time they reached the den, she was already shivering.

Momo was there in an instant, pressing close, her warmth grounding, but nothing helped.

Eranthis worked quickly, cleaning the bite, packing it with herbs, trying everything she knew. But the wound wasn't clotting, the edges darkening too fast.

And still, Emi burned.

Haru arrived last.

He had seen the body.

He had scented the rot.

And as he looked at Emi—at the way her breaths were shallowing, at the way her muscles twitched involuntarily—

He knew.

Momo saw the realization in his eyes and shook her head. "No."

"We have to prepare," Haru said quietly.

"She's strong," Momo growled. "She'll fight it."

Haru didn't argue.

But he looked to Eranthis, and the herbalist's silence said everything.

The Transformation

It happened that night.

Emi's breathing grew harsher, heavier. She could feel it happening, feel the sickness creeping through her bones.

She tried to fight it.

Tried to stay awake, stay present, stay herself.

But when she closed her eyes, she could hear something—

Not voices. Not whispers.

Something else. By midnight, she died.

The pack gathered around her, mourning, confused, shaken by the suddenness of it.

But Haru—Haru felt something gnawing at the back of his mind.

There was something unnatural about this.

And then, she moved.

At first, it was just a twitch, the faintest jerk of her paw.

Then her body spasmed violently, limbs contorting, breath returning in ragged, shuddering gasps.

Slowly.

Painfully.

She rose.

Her eyes were clouded, vacant.

The scent of her had changed—no longer a wolf, but something wrong.

Then she lunged.

The pack barely managed to scatter in time. She snarled, snapping wildly, trying to sink her teeth into anything that moved.

Her mind was gone.

No recognition. No hesitation. Only hunger.

And that was when they realized the truth.

It was the bite.

The infection had killed her, but it hadn't let her go.

Haru didn't hesitate.

"Do not let her touch you."

They drove her back, dodging her attacks, herding her instead of fighting her. She was fast but uncoordinated, her movements sluggish, as if some part of her still fought against the force controlling her.

She wasn't Emi anymore.

Still, they couldn't bring themselves to end it.

Whether out of fear, horror, or the lingering hope that some part of her was still there, they didn't strike her down.

Instead, they drove her back, into the depths of the cave, past the familiar tunnels and into a place that had no return.

They sealed the entrance.

And then, there was silence.

But sometimes, in the quietest hours of the night, when the wind stopped howling and the pack hushed their breathing—

They could hear it.

A slow, dragging shuffle.

The soft scrape of claws against stone.

She never tried to break free.

And they never opened the Black Maw again.