16

Briven

Bery was angry and could not find a place for himself. And he himself could not understand with whom he was more angry, with Deya, for having run away, or with himself. Or furious because he was horrified by a possible loss. The man imagined that Leverius was touching her, and he shuddered. A dry branch crunched underfoot.

The werewolf more conveniently intercepted a simple, leather-covered bow, delving into the forest. He didn't like to hunt in human form, but now he needed to think and be alone.

When he reached a suitable tree, the man strapped the weapon on his back and jumped lightly, pulling himself up and climbing onto one of the thick lower branches of an old pine tree. He pressed his back against the rough, resin-smelling bark. Bare feet confidently stood on a branch, feeling only a slight chill.

Beria closed his eyes and sensitive ears immediately distinguished many sounds. The rustle of leaves receded, subsided, replaced by other sounds. The werewolf heard a distant s