Chapter 11: The Language of the Wild （荒野的密语）

　　The gloom of Silverpine was profound. The tall, dark pine trees grew close together, their interlocking branches creating a perpetual twilight even at midday. The air was cool and heavy with the scent of pine resin and damp, rotting needles. Silence reigned, but it was a watchful, pregnant silence, broken only by the occasional drip of moisture from above. It was a forest that demanded reverence and promised peril.

　　银松森林的幽暗是深沉的。高大黝黑的松树紧紧靠拢，枝桠交错，即便正午也如同永恒的黄昏。空气凉爽，弥漫着浓重的松脂和潮湿腐烂的松针气味。万籁俱寂，但这是一种充满警觉、山雨欲来的寂静，只偶尔被上方滴落的水滴声打破。这是一片要求敬畏、也预示着危险的森林。

　　Iris moved with a new level of caution, her every sense stretched to its limit. She was no longer just avoiding immediate danger; she was reading the forest itself. Leon, trying to mimic her, found himself constantly lagging, his human senses dull in comparison. He stepped on a dry twig, and the resulting snap echoed like a gunshot in the hush. Iris froze, shooting him a look that was more exasperation than anger. It was a language he didn't yet speak—the language of the wild.

　　艾莉丝的行动带着一种新的谨慎级别，她的每一种感官都绷紧到了极限。她不再仅仅是躲避眼前的危险；她是在解读这片森林本身。里昂试图模仿她，却发现自己总是落后，他的人类感官相比之下显得迟钝。他踩到了一根枯枝，发出的咔嚓声在寂静中如同枪响般回荡。艾莉丝僵住了，投给他一个更多是无奈而非愤怒的眼神。这是一种他还不懂的语言——荒野的密语。

　　"Watch where you place your feet," she whispered, her voice barely disturbing the air. "The ground tells stories. Look." She pointed to a patch of soft earth. There, clear as print on a page, was the track of a large wolf, the claws sharp and distinct. But beside it, partially obscuring the paw print, was another mark—a three-toed, heavy impression. Leon's blood ran cold. It was identical to the print they'd seen by the river. The orc scout was not just a memory; it was here, in this very forest, and recently.

　　“注意你下脚的地方，”她低语道，声音轻得几乎不扰动空气。“大地会讲述故事。看。”她指向一片松软的土地。那里，清晰得如同纸上的印刷体，是一个巨大的狼类足迹，爪尖锋利分明。但在它旁边，部分覆盖了爪印的，是另一个印记——一个三趾的、沉重的压痕。里昂的血液都凉了。这和他们在河边看到的脚印一模一样。那个兽人斥候不只是一个记忆；它就在这里，就在这片森林里，而且是最近留下的。

　　Iris studied the tracks, her brow furrowed. "The wolf was following the orc. Or... the orc was following the wolf." She looked up, her eyes scanning the dense trees ahead. "They are not allies. They are hunting the same ground." The implication was clear: the prey they were both hunting could very well be them.

　　艾莉丝仔细研究着足迹，眉头紧锁。“狼在跟着兽人。或者……兽人在跟着狼。”她抬起头，目光扫视前方茂密的树林。“它们不是盟友。它们在同一个地方狩猎。”言下之意很清楚：它们都在狩猎的猎物，很可能就是他们。

　　They changed direction, giving the trail a wide berth. The simple act of walking became a complex negotiation with the environment. Iris taught him without words: to step on rocks and roots where possible, to avoid soft ground; to pause and listen for a full minute before moving into a clearing; to use the wind, keeping it in their faces so their scent wouldn't travel ahead of them. It was exhausting, mentally and physically. Leon's legs ached, and his head throbbed with the concentration.

　　他们改变了方向，远远绕开那条踪迹。简单的行走变成了与环境复杂的协商。艾莉丝不用言语地教导他：尽可能踩在石头和树根上，避开松软的地面；进入林间空地前要停下来倾听整整一分钟；利用风向，让风迎面吹来，这样他们的气味就不会飘到前方。这无论在精神上还是身体上都令人筋疲力尽。里昂的双腿酸痛，脑袋因高度集中而阵阵抽痛。

　　Hours passed. The light began to fade from grey to deep purple. They needed to find shelter for the night, and they needed water. Their skins were already half-empty. Iris led them towards the sound of running water—a smaller, gentler stream than the one that had carried them here. As they approached, she dropped to a crouch, signaling for Leon to do the same.

　　几小时过去了。天色由灰转深紫。他们需要寻找过夜的庇护所，也需要水。他们的水袋已经空了一半。艾莉丝带着他们朝流水声走去——一条比带他们来此的河更小、更温和的溪流。靠近时，她蹲伏下来，示意里昂照做。

　　There, by the stream, was a sight that made Leon's heart leap with a mixture of fear and excitement. A large stag, its coat a magnificent russet brown, was drinking from the water. It was a creature of breathtaking beauty and power. For a moment, they simply watched, mesmerized by the wild grace of it.

　　在那里，溪边，一幕让里昂心跳加速、既恐惧又兴奋的景象映入眼帘。一头高大的雄鹿，毛皮是华丽的赤褐色，正在饮水。它是一个拥有惊人美丽和力量的生物。有一刻，他们只是静静看着，被其野性的优雅迷住了。

　　Then, Iris's hand tightened on his arm. Her gaze was not on the stag, but on the opposite bank. A massive wolf, its fur grey and matted, emerged from the shadows. It was larger than any wolf Leon had ever seen, with intelligent, hungry eyes fixed on the stag. This was no ordinary wolf; this was a worg, a creature of sharp intelligence and ferocity that orcs sometimes rode into battle.

　　接着，艾莉丝的手紧紧抓住了他的胳膊。她的目光不在鹿身上，而在对岸。一头巨大的狼，毛皮灰暗纠结，从阴影中现身。它比里昂见过的任何狼都大，聪明而饥饿的眼睛紧盯着雄鹿。这不是普通的狼；这是一头座狼，一种具有高度智慧和凶残性的生物，兽人有时会骑着它们上战场。

　　The stag sensed the danger too late. It lifted its head, water dripping from its muzzle, just as the worg launched itself across the stream in a powerful, silent leap. The chase was brutal and short. The forest echoed with the stag's terrified bleat and the worg's savage snarls. It was over in moments. The law of the wild, enacted before their eyes.

　　雄鹿察觉到危险时为时已晚。它抬起头，水从口鼻滴落，就在这时，座狼强有力且无声地跃起，扑过溪流。追逐是残酷而短暂的。森林回荡着雄鹿惊恐的哀鸣和座狼凶残的咆哮。片刻之间，一切就结束了。野性的法则，在他们眼前上演。

　　Iris didn't flinch. Her face was a mask of grim acceptance. She waited until the worg had dragged its kill into the deeper shadows, then she moved. Not towards the kill site, but upstream, to where the water ran clean. "We drink quickly," she said, her voice low. "And we do not sleep here tonight. The worg will return to its pack. Others will come for the scraps."

　　艾莉丝没有畏缩。她的脸上是严峻的接受。她等到座狼将猎物拖入更深的阴影后，才行动起来。不是走向猎杀地点，而是向上游水流清澈的地方走去。“我们快点喝水，”她低声说。“今晚不在这里过夜。座狼会回到它的狼群。其他动物会来吃残羹。”

　　They filled their skins and drank their fill, the water cold and pure. As they turned to leave, Leon's foot kicked against something half-buried in the soft bank. It was a antler, freshly shed, from a younger deer. It was smooth and white, with a perfect, sharp point. On an impulse, he picked it up. It was light but sturdy.

　　他们灌满水袋，喝了个饱，水冰冷纯净。当他们转身离开时，里昂的脚踢到了半埋在松软岸边的某个东西。那是一支刚脱落不久的鹿角，来自一头年轻的鹿。它光滑洁白，有一个完美锋利的尖角。一时冲动，他捡起了它。很轻，但结实。

　　Iris looked at the antler in his hand, then at his face. She gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. It was not a tool, not a weapon. But it was a resource. It could be used for digging, for carving, for prying. It was a gift from the forest, a small counterpoint to the savagery they had just witnessed.

　　艾莉丝看了看他手中的鹿角，又看了看他的脸。她缓缓地、几乎难以察觉地点了点头。这不是工具，也不是武器。但它是一种资源。可以用来挖掘、雕刻、撬东西。这是森林的馈赠，是对他们刚刚目睹的野蛮行为的一个小小对应。

　　As they moved away from the stream, seeking a safe place to spend the night, Leon clutched the antler tightly. He was beginning to understand. The wild wasn't just about danger. It was about reading signs, adapting, and sometimes, accepting the harsh gifts it offered. He was learning the language, one brutal, beautiful lesson at a time.

　　当他们离开溪流，寻找安全的过夜地点时，里昂紧紧抓着那支鹿角。他开始明白了。荒野不仅仅是危险。它还关乎识别征兆、适应环境，以及有时，接受它提供的严酷礼物。他正在学习这种语言，一次一课，残酷而美丽。