Alex tilted his head. “What’s a dog doing in a place like this? And it doesn’t look like a Crup.”
Before Alex could ponder further, the "dog" spoke. “I’m not a dog, you idiot. I’m a wolf.” The voice was weak but clear, startling Alex. He leaned closer, wondering if he’d imagined it, but the husky’s sharp gaze confirmed it.
“What are you staring at?” the wolf growled. “Are you one of the merchants those mangy werewolves brought here? Let me guess—they’ll let you pick your goods, take your gold, and then rip you apart.”
Despite its injuries, the husky’s tone was biting, even sarcastic. It sat up slightly, wincing in pain but refusing to look defeated. Alex blinked, caught off guard by the husky’s intelligence and attitude. "Are you a werewolf? Or an Animagus?" Alex asked curiously after confirming the husky could speak.
“What’s it to you? Planning to buy me? Go ahead, but I promise the second I’m free, I’ll rip your throat out—” The husky began to chuckle darkly but broke into a fit of coughing, clearly too injured to maintain his bravado.
“You’d better take it easy,” Alex said, raising an eyebrow. “Judging by your attitude, you don’t get along with werewolves. Let me share some good news—those werewolves are dead. Care to explain your connection to them?”
“Dead?” the husky scoffed, narrowing its sharp eyes. “You’re telling me you killed them? Just like that? Who do you think you are?” His voice was laced with sarcasm, but his hatred for the werewolves was unmistakable.
Alex, unimpressed, left without another word. He returned a moment later, carrying a severed werewolf head. He tossed it in front of the cage with a dull thud. The lifeless eyes on the head still bore a look of shock, as though it hadn’t processed its own demise. The husky stared in stunned silence, its defiance momentarily shattered. Then, with surprising speed, it scrambled to the cage door, biting at the severed head through the iron bars. Growling viciously, it tore into the flesh, gnashing and swallowing raw chunks of fur and meat.
Alex wrinkled his nose in disgust. “That’s just unhygienic,” he muttered, turning his head away. Even he wouldn’t have touched the bloody thing with his bare hands. Kicking the remains of the head aside, Alex crouched down and fixed the husky with a cold gaze. “Now, will you answer my question?”
“You really killed them?” the husky asked, still panting. His voice trembled with a mix of disbelief and relief. “You’re not lying?”
Alex sighed. “Do I look like I’m lying? Fine, let me spell it out for you: I killed four werewolves here in the cave, one guarding the tunnel, and ten last night. That’s fifteen in total. The only one who got away was Fenrir. Happy now?”
The husky’s eyes widened as Alex casually counted off the werewolves he’d killed, as if he were talking about eggs at breakfast. “It’s them. It’s really them,” the husky whispered. His sarcastic demeanor disappeared in an instant, replaced by a flood of emotions. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he collapsed onto the ground, covering his face with his paws as he began to sob uncontrollably.
Alex watched silently, feeling a faint twinge of sympathy. Whatever had happened between this husky and the werewolves, it had left deep scars. Once the husky’s sobbing subsided, Alex leaned closer. “Now, can you finally answer my question?”
The husky nodded, his voice hoarse but sincere. “Ask away, benefactor. I owe you everything now. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” He coughed again, his body clearly weakened from his injuries and the emotional outburst.
Alex frowned, pulling out a small bottle of restorative potion. “Here,” he said, carefully levitating the potion to the husky and helping him drink it.
Though the husky seemed harmless and even grateful, Alex wasn’t about to let him go without answers. The risk of him being a werewolf or some other dangerous magical creature was too high. After drinking the potion, the husky let out a deep sigh, his strength slowly returning. “Alright,” Alex said, his tone firm but calm. “Let’s start with the basics. Who are you, and why can you talk?”
The husky sat up, his posture slightly more dignified. “My name is Fang. I’m fourteen years old, and I’m not a werewolf or an Animagus,” he began. “I’m not even a magical creature in the usual sense. My parents were both wizards who were bitten by werewolves. They suffered from lycanthropy.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “You mean… they conceived you during a full moon?”
Fang nodded. “Exactly. They were both in their wolf forms when I was conceived, and I was the result.” Alex sat back on his heels, stunned. He’d read about this rare phenomenon in old texts but had never imagined he’d encounter it.
Werewolves, when transformed under the full moon, were known to be highly contagious and dangerous. If two lycanthropic werewolves mated in their wolf forms, they could produce offspring—not humans, not traditional werewolves, but actual wolves with human-level intelligence. “Your case… it’s extremely rare,” Alex murmured. “I thought it was just a myth.”
“It’s not,” Fang said with a humorless chuckle. “I’m living proof.”
Alex gestured for him to continue, and Fang began to recount his story. “My parents didn’t abandon me or my siblings, even though we weren’t human. They took care of us, raised us in the forests far from human society. Over time, some of my siblings didn’t survive. In the end, it was just me and my brother.”
Fang’s voice softened as he spoke, his eyes distant. “We lived simple lives. My parents tried to shield us from wizards and humans, but every so often, they’d take us to villages to see the wizarding world. I didn’t really understand it then, but they wanted us to know what we were missing. Because I’m the child of wizards,” he continued, “I inherited some of their magical abilities. Even though I don’t have a human form, I have enough intelligence and magic coursing through me. When my parents realized this, they were thrilled and started teaching us how to speak.”
"It must have been difficult, considering your vocal structure," Alex remarked, his curiosity piqued.
Fang nodded. "It was. Our anatomy is very different from humans, but we learned to use magic to adjust our vocalizations. I had a knack for it, more so than my brother, which is why I can speak as clearly as I do."
"That makes sense," Alex mused. "So, how did you end up in the hands of these werewolves?"
At this, Fang’s expression darkened. "It’s all because of that werewolf wizard!" His voice trembled with anger, and hatred flickered in his eyes. "We lived far from wizard society, in peace, until one day that cursed werewolf and his pack found us." He took a shaky breath, his voice cracking as he continued. "At first, he wanted my parents to join him—to help launch a war against wizards. My parents refused and tried to leave peacefully, but we didn’t realize how vile he was. When we let our guard down, he attacked us."