Data and Magic

He gripped the dagger tightly, his fingers wrapping around the worn hilt, feeling the cold steel against his palm. He focused on the charging wolf, its eyes locked onto him, its jaws slavering, its body a blur of motion. He drew his arm back, ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg, ignoring the fear that threatened to paralyse him, focusing all his attention, all his will, on the single task at hand.

He threw.

The dagger flew through the air, a silver streak against the darkening forest, a projectile launched with all the force he could muster. It wasn't a perfect throw, slightly off-centre, lacking the power and precision he would have liked, but it was close enough. The blade struck the wolf in its front leg, just above the paw, piercing fur and flesh and muscle, sinking deep into the limb.

The wolf yelped, a sharp, surprised cry of pain, its momentum abruptly halted. It stumbled, its injured leg collapsing beneath it, sending it sprawling onto the forest floor, its charge turning into an ungainly tumble.

Edward, who had been about to charge the wolf himself, stopped short, his eyes widening in surprise, his sword still raised. Julia lowered her hands, her expression a mixture of relief and admiration, her magical preparations interrupted by William's unexpected action.

The wolf, now a whimpering, wounded creature, struggled to its feet, but it was clearly in no condition to fight, its leg badly injured, its movements hampered. Edward, with a grim nod of acknowledgement to William, a silent recognition of his quick thinking, advanced and dispatched it with a swift, merciful blow, ending its pain with a single thrust of his lightning-scarred blade.

Silence descended upon the clearing, broken only by the crackling of the fire, now dying down, and the ragged breathing of the three humans, the aftermath of the brief but brutal encounter. The adrenaline that had coursed through William's veins, that had fuelled his actions, began to fade, leaving him weak and trembling, his leg throbbing with renewed intensity, a fiery reminder of his injury. He slumped to the ground, leaning against a nearby tree, exhaustion washing over him in waves, a bone-deep weariness that settled into his very core.

He'd done it. He'd faced down a charging wolf, a predator honed by evolution, and he'd survived. And he hadn't just survived; he'd contributed, he'd played a crucial role in their victory, his quick thinking and surprisingly accurate throw saving him from almost certain injury, perhaps even death.

Edward sheathed his sword, the crackling of lightning fading as the blade slid into its scabbard, the magical energy dissipating. He walked over to William, his expression unreadable, his usual gruffness softened by a hint of something akin to respect.

"Not bad," he said, a hint of grudging admiration in his voice, a warrior's compliment. "For an outsider. You have a good arm, and a quick mind. You might just survive this after all."

Julia knelt beside William, her eyes filled with concern, her gentle touch a stark contrast to the violence they'd just experienced. "Are you alright?" she asked, her voice soft, laced with genuine worry. "Did it hurt you anywhere else?"

"My leg..." William began, wincing as he shifted his weight, the pain flaring anew. "It's... it's throbbing. But I think I'm okay, otherwise."

"Let me see," Julia said. She gently examined the bandage, her touch light and reassuring, her fingers probing carefully around the wound. "The bleeding has stopped, but the wound is still inflamed. We'll need to clean it again and apply a fresh poultice when we reach Sharwood. The citrusroot is working, but it's not a miracle cure."

Edward, meanwhile, had turned his attention to the dead wolves. With practiced efficiency, a hunter's skill honed by years of necessity, he began to butcher one of the smaller carcasses, using his sword to skin and dismember the animal, separating flesh from bone, hide from sinew. "Waste not, want not," he muttered, his voice devoid of any sentimentality, any hint of squeamishness, a simple statement of practicality. "Wolf meat isn't the best, it's tough and gamey, but it's better than nothing. And the pelts will be useful, for warmth, for trade, for protection."

William watched him, a strange mixture of disgust and fascination churning in his stomach. He'd never seen an animal butchered before, let alone a creature that had just tried to kill him, a creature that looked so much like a dog, a domesticated animal he'd always associated with companionship and loyalty. But he knew it was necessary. They needed food, and they couldn't afford to be picky, not in this harsh, unforgiving world. Survival demanded pragmatism, a willingness to do what was necessary, however unpleasant.

After a few minutes of silence, punctuated only by the sounds of Edward's work and the crackling of the remaining embers of the fire, they gathered their few belongings, Edward carrying the butchered wolf carcass slung over his shoulder, its weight a testament to his strength. They set off again, moving east, towards the promised safety of Sharwood, a beacon of hope in the encroaching darkness.

William limped along beside Julia, his injured leg slowing him down, a constant reminder of his vulnerability, but he refused to complain, refused to show any weakness. He was alive, and he was with people who had saved his life, people who seemed to know how to survive in this dangerous world, people who, despite their own hardships, had shown him kindness and compassion.

He had so many questions, a thousand unanswered mysteries swirling in his mind, a torrent of inquiries clamouring for attention. He wanted to ask about the magic he'd witnessed, about Julia's "magic missiles" and Edward's lightning-charged sword, about the nature of these powers, their source, their limitations. He wanted to know more about the Dark Legion, about the resistance he'd glimpsed in his dream, about Dark Lord Neverus. He wanted to understand how magic worked, what its rules were, whether it was something he could learn.

But for now, he kept his questions to himself. He was exhausted, injured, and overwhelmed. He needed to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, on reaching safety, on surviving the night. The questions could wait. The answers, he hoped, would come in time. He glanced at Julia and Edward, their faces grim and determined, their eyes constantly scanning the forest around them. He was a stranger in a strange land, caught in a conflict he didn't understand. But he was not alone. And for now, that was enough.