Alfred never thought he'd miss the desert sun, but right about now, he'd willingly throw himself before it, if only to remind himself of what it feels like.

Four days they've been walking through these woods. Four days of perpetual gloom that never seems to get lighter than a night with a full moon. Four days of constantly being on edge, of not being able to tell day from night, of sleeping with one eye open. And as if all that wasn't bad enough, the oppressive atmosphere of the very air they breathe makes every step a struggle. Combine that with the constant feeling of being watched, and the distant but very noticeable sounds of growling —which never seemed to get nearer or farther, no matter how far they traveled— Alfred honestly doesn't know how much longer he can take this.

Perhaps this is why no one comes here. Why many have nicknamed the Wilderness as a place for mad men, it's certainly driving him crazy and they've only just got here!

And he's not the only one.

Al is both surprised and worried by the state of his brother. Gods know how Mattie is still managing to hold it together, but it's pretty clear he's teetering on the edge of a serious mental breakdown. Like a ticking clock, exactly every three minutes he'll turn his head around to stare behind him for five seconds, then turn back around and mutter something under his breath, repeating the process again and again.

Al's tried to help calm him, but nothing he's said or done has had any affect, it's as if his twin doesn't even notice him.

He had hoped that Gilbert, as the battle hardened war hero of their little group, would be able to keep it together, but even he's showing signs of breaking.

Alfred has never known Gil to be anything but perfectly poised, but now, the sure-footed Commander is anything but. Every raised root and low branch seems to trip up or surprise the man, and with every stumble and scratched cheek, Gilbird squawks in equal agitation from the man's shoulder.

The only one who seems unbothered —and perhaps is the very reason they all haven't broken down into a jittery, gibbering mess to be forever lost in these damned woods— is Arthur.

In this dreary world of dark skies and darker trees, the wolf's snow white fur stands out as a beacon of light in an other wise colourless place.

Not for the first time, a slow realisation, like waking up from a dream, drifts over him. It starts in his fingers, slowly creeping to the rest of his hand, then up his arm to finally notify his brain. It's such a slow process that when the message does reach, he has to turn his head to confirm the action with his eyes.

Yup… he's holding onto Arthur's leg again. Like a trance, he watches the steady rhythm of his hand moving back and forth with the movement of Arthur walking.

Forwards, down, pause, back, lift. Forwards, down, pause, back, lift. Forwards, down, pause, back, lift. Forwards, down, pause, back, lift. Forwards, down, pause, back, lift. Forwards, down, pause, back, lift. Forwards, down, pause, back, lift. Forwards, down, pause, back, lift. Forwards, down, pause, back, lift. Forwards, down, pause.

Pause?

Looking away, Alfred finds they're standing in a different part of the woods, not that he recognises one place from any other. He also finds it's a bit lighter than before, odd since…

He looks around more and finds Gilbert, dead eyed, stacking sticks for a tiny fire and Mattie, still muttering and blank faced as he rolls out his blanket. Like they agreed when they first came here, they'll camp during the day, which means…

Alfred is oddly not alarmed by the fact the entire day —or rather night— passed in what felt like only a few minutes while he watched Arthur walking.

However, the now small part of him that remains rational tells him he should feel alarmed by his lack of alarm, a conundrum that is far too complex for his frazzled brain to properly process.

Again he blinks out of his thoughts to find himself sitting against a tree by the now lit fire, his blanket over his legs, with no recollection of how these events occurred. His glazed eyes drift up from the flames he's been staring at for hours to lazily look at the others.

First they drift over Gilbert, sitting crossed legged, his bird nested between them as the man repeatedly runs his hand down from the top of its head to its tail, over and over and over again, as if he doesn't even notice what he's doing.

Leaning up against a tree somewhere between them he finds Mattie with is knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them as he slowly rocks back and forth, muttering even more into the fire.

Maybe it's the sight of his only family and best friend falling to pieces before his eyes, or maybe it's the realisation of just how fucked they are, or maybe it's something else entirely that's beyond his minds current comprehension that causes it. Whatever it is, the result is the same; for the first time in what feels like a century, a single, solid, thought enters Alfred's mind.

We need to get out of here.

The thought takes root like a weed, growing until it becomes so large it demands to be heard.

"we need to get out of here!"

He doesn't realise how loud he spoke until the sound of his own voice makes him jump. It's that jump that triggers more of himself into awakening.

Suddenly, like a flood of ice cold water has been dumped on his head, sense returns to him in an instant. And a sound he'd long since dismissed as the wind snaps back into clarity.

'Just hold on, I'll keep you safe, I promise.'

Turning to the side, Al finds large green eyes watching his, worry written all over them.

"Arthur?"

'Oh thank the Snow Mother!'

Rather inexplicably —to Alfred at least— Arthur pounces on him, toppling him from his feet into the soft ground, and before he can even begin to process anything, a large wet tongue licks him across the face.

"Ewww…" Al groans, scrunching his face up.

He can feel the sticky saliva coating the entire right side of his face and matting his hair to his forehead.

However the sound of disgust only seems to delight Arthur further as he hovers his face mere inches above Al's, breathing hot breath down on him and fluttering the hair this not been slobbered on.

'Your back!'

Without warning Arthur drops the full weight of his head down onto Al's chest, heavily nuzzling the knights neck.

"Off! Urgh-ooooww! Has anyone told you your really heavy?" Al whiles.

'Oh!' Seeming to suddenly remember himself, Arthur hurriedly jumps up, looking away, but remains standing over Alfred.

Carefully sitting up, Al makes it a point to scoot back from under the wolf, lest Arthur drop himself down on him again.

"What do you mean 'I'm back'? I never left."

Arthur tilts his head in confusion, then rapidly shakes it.

'No not back like gone, back like... like...' The wolf frowns deeply, struggling to find the word. 'Day sleeping.'

"Day… sleeping?"

'Yes. The Dream Weavers' song made you sleep but not sleep.' Arthur nods over to the other two, 'Look, they still sleep. They're caught in the Weavers' web.'

Looking over, Al finds the other two standing still, shoulders slumped, faces blank and eyes glazed over, seeing nothing before them.

Confused, Al tries to puzzle out what's going on.

"So, what? I was sleep walking? Caused by this Dream Weavers' song… so is it like an enchantment?"

Arthur nods, 'Yes, yes! Exactly.'

"Okay… so all we gotta do is wake them up. How did I wake up?"

'I do not know how, all I've been able to do is guard you since you went under a few minutes ago.'

"Eh?! Minutes?"

'Yes, almost as soon as we passed the barrier.'

Completely shocked by this, Al quickly spins around, looking about, and, sure enough, he sees the desert just barely visible between the trees only a few hundred yards away.

His mouth works soundlessly for a moment as he tries to process all of this. Now, all of the oddities of these past days is starting to make sense.

"Wait, how come you weren't affected?"

Arthur acts affronted by the question, huffing loudly and giving Al a burning glare.

'I, unlike you lot, am not so weak as to fall prey to such a simple trick.'

That doesn't really answer Al's question, but while he's still figuring things out, the sound of multiple legs skittering through the trees resonates nearby.

'Stay back!' Arthur growls warningly into the dark forest, letting his teeth flash and the skittering seems to retreat.

"Um, what was that?" Al asks, deeply unnerved by the sound.

Arthur lets another deep growl rumble from his throat just for good measure before answering.

'The Weavers. They sing when they get close, then they feed on their entranced victims.'

Alfred really doesn't want to be a part of the 'feeding', so he quickly turns his attention to the other two.

"We gotta wake them up too."

Hurrying to Mattie's side, Al shakes his twin, trying to rouse a response out of him.

"Come on bro, you gotta wake up. You too Gil!" Al calls, and Gilbird caws up from the ground in agreement, pecking at Gills leg.

'That won't work, I've tried, you must break the song spell that's bound them.' Arthur says, closely watching the woods for the Weavers.

"Yeah but how?"

'How did you?'

Desperately, Al thinks over the dream. Now that he thinks about it, he oddly seemed the most put together of the three, because Arthur's presence helped keep him sane. He wonders if that was his subconscious trying to tell him Arthur was protecting them, or maybe it was a result of their bond.

He's going to go out on a limb and guess it was the protection, since if Arthur is keeping the Weavers away, maybe he can act as that too…

With absolutely no basis besides these thoughts to go on, Alfred wraps his arms around Matthew in a tight, protective hug.

"Look Mattie, Artie is keeping me safe, so I can keep you safe."

He hugs his brother tighter, and when he hears the skittering, he loudly shouts at them to go away right along with Arthur's growling.

"Eh? Al?"

Somehow, it works.

"Mattie!"

If Matthew thought Al was hugging him hard before, he's discovering a whole new level of bear hug now.

"Al..please..can't..breathe!"

"Oh right! Sorry!" Quickly jumping back, Al turns his attention to Gilbert.

Disoriented, and more than a little bit confused, Matthew gives his twin a strange look, "Um, Al? Why are you hugging Gil?"

"To wake him up."

"Riiiight…"

Matt is even more confused now, and with no explanation as to what's going on, he's left quite baffled when the creepy skittering sounds somewhere behind him, only for Al to loudly shout for it to piss off and Arthur growl angrily at it too.

Some awkward explanations later, and the group are now back on the move.

"Right, we seriously need to keep our guard up here. Who knows what else we might run into out there." Gil warns, keeping a steady hand on his sword.

Matthew nods in agreement as he finishes up tying a quick protection ward to each of their tunics. "We should also mark our way so we don't get lost." He suggests, pulling a small dagger out from his belt and cutting an arrow shape into the bark of a tree.

After a moment of silence, a thought occurs to Alfred, "Hey Artie? How come you knew about the Dream Weavers?"

He doesn't respond right away, quietly trailing behind the knight, and just when Al starts to think he won't get one, Arthur finally answers.

'Where I come from, there are Weavers that make their home in the dark hearts of the mountains. They… often tried to infest the dens of my kin.'

Alfred gets the feeling there's more to it, but for some reason Arthur is reluctant to talk about it. Knowing better than to push the subject, Al switches topic in hopes of improving the wolf's now closed of mood.

"Doesn't this place bother you?"

Surprise by the question, Arthur raises what would be a furry eyebrow at him.

'How so?'

Don't you feel it? The air here, it's like it's charged with… this raw energy, pushing down on you." The more he talks about it, the more Al notices just how oppressive it feels and a shiver runs through his soul. "It feels like the entire forest is just… waiting for something to happen."

Just in front of him, Matt and Gil have been quietly listening in, both silently agreeing with Al's description, even if they can't hear Arthur's voice. But neither of them need a translator for the sound that Arthur makes which can only be described as a scoff, and the smug look he gives the three of them.

"What?" Al asks, a little annoyed by Arthur laughing at him.

'You humans have such a twisted sense of nature. This air is not raw, it's pure. Your places, the towns and cities, they are what is off.' He nudges Al's side playfully, still looking quite smug at the blondes offended stare.

"We're not twisted!"

Somehow, Arthur manages to roll his eyes at him.

'No of course not. But…' he pauses for a moment, looking around, 'There is something to this place.'

"Really?"

Arthur hums, looking up to the ash-grey twisted branches above and the oil black leaves that cover them, blotting out most of the bleak sunlight.

'There are tales,' he explains, 'stories passed down the lines. All have one thing in common. We wolves of snow came from a forest of black.' He pauses to look around, taking in all that can be seen, 'From the moment we got close enough to the barrier to feel the air of this land, I knew it. This is the forest of black the elders all spoke of.'

"Your family came from here?"

'My kin, yes. But I cannot deny it; this here feels more like home than any other place I have been with you.'

"I suppose that makes sense." Al nods as they walk, also looking around, though he can make little out in the dappled light, "We have stories too. According to the old legends, The Great God Nankeke grew jealous of all the land the gentle creatures of the Sweet Goddess Afla were given to roam. So to spite her, he turned himself into a squirrel, one of the Goddess's most beloved creatures, and snuck into the heartland of her domain. There, he birthed all the beasts of the world, and took over Afla's forest, twisting it to be his own."

'Then what happened?' Arthur asks, green eyes twinkling with curiosity, enthralled by the story.

"Neither Afla nor her creations could stand up to Great Nankeke, and so were forced out, leaving the land to him. We call this place, The Mighty Wilderness of Nankeke." Al finishes, flourishing his hands out to gesture to the woods as a whole.

"That's not the end of it." Mattie adds, stepping back to walk beside Al.

"It's not? I'm pretty sure that's all I can remember reading in the fables."

"In Nankeke's fable, yeah. But there's another part to it. Marahöl's gateway."

Both Al and Gil flinch at the name, hurriedly whispering an identical prayer under their breaths in unison before berating Matt.

"By the Gods Mattie! Don't just go saying that!"

"You wanna fucking get us cursed?!" Alfred cries and Gil hisses back at him.

Despite the pairs outbursts, Matthew Just rolls his eyes.

"You see? This is what military indoctrination has done, your both too afraid of just a name, to even listen to what I was going to say."

"With good reason!" Al cries, "Don't just go saying the Lord of all Demon's name like your commenting on the weather!"

"I was just sa-" Matt tries to explain, but is cut off by Al's hand slapping over his mouth.

"Shh!"

For a moment Matthew thinks it's because Al's still freaking out over what he's going to say, but when the group halts, he knows it's more than that.

Squinting into the shadowy darkness from the small clearing they find themselves in, does nothing to help him see what has the pair on edge.

"Listen," Al whispers, "Do you hear that?"

Somewhere out in the darkness before them, the growling from their dreams sounds, but this time, it's definitely closer.

Silently as they can, both Gil and Al draw their swords, moving near soundlessly to stand in a defensive position. Remaining still, Matt watches as Arthur slowly stalks forward, his large paws making hardly a whisper as he carefully picks his way across the soft soil to stand between the two fighters.

Just behind the trees on the other side of the clearing, in the darkness, a large shadow shifts, rising up from what Matt realises was a crouch. A terrified jolt of fear runs through him as the form growls, and he realises just how close this thing was without them noticing.

Then he feels a sense of dread set in as not one, or two, but six other shadows move forward, surrounding them. Alfred and Gilbert quickly raise their swords in defence, but Arthur remains still and silent.

In the centre, coming out of the shadows, large brown eyes glare, pointed teeth glint, and a sharp clawed paw steps into the light.

A rustle, then, before them, a pack of Giant Grey Wolves stands.

Authors notes: Mwahahaha! Aah, I do love a good cliffhanger.

It's taken long enough, but we're finally getting some more lore. So yes, to clarify; The Wilderness is not only the home, but also the origin of all the big nasty creatures of this world, hence why Arthur feels drawn to it. And if it wasn't already obvious, Nankeke is an utter asshole God of this world who made all these wonderful things just to fuck with everyone.

Yet even he's not the worst…

R & R people.

Until next time, stay awesome!