Saved by the Sun (edit)

After some time of wandering around the forest, Amukelo's exhaustion caught up to him. He found a small niche in a cliff and decided that it was the best place he could find to get some rest. He sat next to the edge of the cliff, and tried to cover himself, as he sat there, he exhaled heavily, and said to himself, "I can't sleep, but if I can at least let my body still for some time, maybe I can get some of my strength back." 

However, his injuries didn't allow him to relax. Whenever he would lean on the cliff's wall, his shoulder would remind him about his vulnerability. As he tried to assess his situation, the rustling sounds multiplied, breaking the eerie silence of the night. Amukelo forced himself to focus, scanning his surroundings with wide, frantic eyes. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to move, to flee, but his exhaustion and the pulsing pain in his limbs rooted him to the spot. Then came another rustle, louder this time, closer. Amukelo's heart lurched in his chest. He froze the pounding of his heartbeat like thunder in his ears. 

"Move!" he whispered harshly to himself, but his legs refused to obey. Fear clung to him like a shroud, suffocating and paralyzing. 

The sound grew louder. Leaves crunched underfoot, and his breath caught in his throat. He stepped forward cautiously, his sword trembling in his grip. The night stretched on endlessly, and every shadow seemed to warp and shift. Just as he convinced himself it might have been a stray animal, the underbrush exploded with movement.

The stillness of the forest shattered as the underbrush exploded with feral movement. A black, hulking figure surged forward, its claws gleaming under the faint moonlight. Amukelo barely had time to react, instinct yanking him into a desperate leap to the side. He hit the ground hard, rolling to his feet as the werewolf landed in the space he had occupied seconds earlier, its claws carving furrows into the dirt. 

The creature turned toward him with unnatural speed, its glowing eyes locking onto his trembling form. Its snarl was deep and guttural, vibrating through the air and into his chest. Amukelo's heart pounded like a war drum, each beat louder than the last. His sword trembled in his grip, slick with sweat and fear.

But the nightmare wasn't over. A second growl sounded from behind him, and his stomach dropped. He turned his head sharply, spotting another werewolf emerging from the shadows. Its movements were slower but deliberate, its hunched frame bristling with malice. The second beast joined the first, flanking him, and then—another snarl. A third werewolf.

Amukelo's breath caught in his throat. His eyes darted between the three monsters encircling him. The oppressive presence of their snarls and the gleam of sharp claws left him frozen. His body screamed at him to flee, but the rational part of his mind knew he wouldn't make it far. His legs shook beneath him as the circle tightened.

The first werewolf lunged. It was fast—too fast. Amukelo swung his sword with all his strength, the steel connecting with the beast's shoulder in a resounding clash. Sparks flew as the blade sliced fur, but it didn't bite deep. The werewolf howled and swiped back, claws catching the edge of Amukelo's tunic and slicing the fabric as he twisted away. 

He staggered backward, chest heaving, just as the second werewolf pounced. Its speed was terrifying, its claws a blur. Amukelo parried with a desperate swing, the impact jarring his arm to the point of pain. The strength of the beast's attack forced him to his knees, his sword angled awkwardly above him as he fought to keep the weight off.

Before he could recover, the third werewolf closed in. A shadow of fur and fangs loomed over him. Amukelo barely rolled away in time, the creature's claws raking the ground where his head had been. The movement sent him sprawling. He tried to stand, but his foot slipped on the damp earth, and he fell onto his back. He watched in horror as the third beast loomed over him, saliva dripping from its gaping maw.

"No!" Amukelo gasped, throwing his hands up in a vain attempt to shield himself. But the werewolf hesitated. The other two beasts snarled and advanced. The three of them moved as one, their glowing eyes filled with murderous intent.

"I can't win this," he whispered hoarsely to himself, his voice trembling. "Not like this."

The first werewolf lunged again, and this time, Amukelo didn't meet it with a blade. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding its claws. His sword flashed upward in a blind counterstrike. The blade grazed its leg, eliciting a roar of pain. The werewolf recoiled but didn't fall.

The second beast rushed in. Amukelo ducked, parried, and swung wildly. His blade scraped the creature's ribs, but it retaliated with a quick swipe. The claws raked across his side, tearing through flesh. Amukelo stumbled back, gritting his teeth against the pain as warmth spread across his body. His hand pressed to his side instinctively, coming away sticky with blood.

The third werewolf lunged now, trying to pin him. Amukelo fell back, using his feet to kick it off as he raised his sword in a frantic upward thrust. The blade plunged into the beast's chest. It howled in agony, snapping its jaws at him even as its strength faltered. He twisted the blade, trying to finish it off, but its claws lashed out in desperation, raking across his thigh. 

The beast staggered and collapsed, the sword still embedded in its chest. But there was no time to retrieve it. The remaining two werewolves, bloodied but unrelenting, closed in. 

Amukelo drew his dagger, his last line of defense. He slashed wildly at the first werewolf as it lunged again, the blade carving a shallow cut across its muzzle. The beast snarled in fury but didn't falter. It swiped at him again, forcing him to leap back. 

As the second werewolf charged, Amukelo tried to dodge, but his injured leg gave way, and he fell hard onto the ground. His dagger flew from his hand, and he scrambled backward, unarmed and vulnerable. The werewolf loomed over him, its claws raised to deliver the final blow.

Then, as if by divine intervention, the first rays of sunlight pierced through the trees. The werewolf froze mid-attack, its growl faltering into a whimper. Dark smoke began to rise from its body, tendrils of black swirling in the light of dawn. The beast's form convulsed, its fur receding, its muscles shrinking. Amukelo watched in stunned silence as the other werewolf underwent the same transformation.

In moments, where there had been terrifying predators, now lay ordinary wolves. They collapsed, unconscious or stunned, their forms much smaller and less threatening. 

Amukelo lay still, his chest heaving, his body wracked with pain. Blood oozed from his wounds, staining the dirt beneath him. He stared at the wolves, unable to believe what he had just witnessed. 

The sun rose higher, its warmth bathing the forest in golden light. Amukelo closed his eyes, the adrenaline fading and leaving him with nothing but exhaustion and pain. Yet, despite everything, he had survived.