The sun was already dipping low when the distant sound of shouts echoed across the clearing.
"they're back! the hunters have returned!"
The call came from the top of one of the watchtowers flanking the entrance to the wooden wall. In moments, more voices followed, spreading through the settlement like wildfire.
From within the caves carved deep into the rock face, people began to pour out men, women, and children all drawn toward the gates. Their footsteps thudded softly on the dirt path that led to the entrance, where smoke from the central fire pit still rose lazily into the golden air.
And then, from the shadowed edge of the forest, figures appeared thirteen in total. At their front was Torya, his expression tired but composed, his halberd strapped across his back. Behind him, Daren and the others carried their spoils: four large boars, bound with vines and dragged across the ground. The largest among them a massive male was nearly the size of a wagon, its tusks sharp and yellowed from age.
The air filled with cheers.
"They did it!"
"Food! finally!"
The children ran forward first, laughing and shouting as they surrounded the returning hunters. Some tried to touch the boars in awe, while the mothers hurried to pull them back before they got too close.
But as the crowd's excitement rose, a sudden hush rippled through them.
Someone pointed. "What's that?"
At the end of the line, half-dragged and half-walking, was a figure bound in thick vines and blindfolded with woven grass. His skin was pale almost gray with faint streaks of black that looked like soot. He stumbled, tripped, then was shoved forward by Daren's boot.
Gasps filled the air. The older Emberkin froze where they stood.
"An Ashkin…" someone whispered.
Faces that had been bright with joy turned grim. Mothers gathered their children closer. The memory of the Ashkin tales of blood raids and burning villages was not easily forgotten.
Two old men stepped forward from the crowd, both moving with the slow but steady confidence of those long respected. Varin, his white hair tied in a simple knot, leaned on his wooden staff. Beside him was Saran, older still, his voice deep and roughened by age.
"Torya," Varin said, his eyes narrowing, "what have you brought into our walls?"
Torya stopped before them and dropped the end of his spear into the dirt. "A survivor," he said. "One of the Ashkin. His pack was across the river when we found them. Only this one lived."
Daren gave the prisoner a hard shove, forcing him to kneel. "We caught him after the fight. He was still breathing."
The Ashkin groaned, then let out a low, bitter laugh. "Still breathing," he rasped. "For now."
Varin frowned. "Speak, creature. Why are your kind so deep in these woods?"
The Ashkin tilted his head, the blindfold shifting slightly to reveal a flash of red beneath. His voice was sharp but weary. "Because the west burns," he said. "The tribes devour one another for scraps. The strong take, the weak fall."
Murmurs spread among the gathered Emberkin.
Saran stepped forward, his tone measured. "What do you mean by burns?"
"The forest," the Ashkin answered, grinning now despite the dried blood on his lips. "The Lapinfolk holes filled with corpses. The scaled ones of the marshes drowned in their own rivers. All the mortal races within the forest are fighting. The war spreads. Conscription from the holy war took the warriors, and now the beasts among us rise."
He paused, then tilted his head toward Torya's voice. "And you your kind what are you now? The Emberkin, still clinging to your dying flame?"
The tribe fell silent.
Torya stared down at him, his voice calm but cold. "You speak much for one who is bound."
The Ashkin's grin widened. "Because words are sharper than your sticks, Ember boy. Your tribe will fall soon enough. A fodder tribe like yours is destined to fall. The Ashkin will come. They'll find your caves, your walls, your..."
Before he could finish, Torya drew his blade and drove it straight through the Ashkin's chest.
The sound was quick, clean wood and bone splitting in one motion. The laughter stopped. Blood bubbled from the prisoner's lips before his body went still.
No one spoke. Only the faint crackle of the nearby fires broke the silence.
Torya withdrew his weapon and looked up at the tribe, his expression unreadable. "Burn the body," he said. "Let his ashes join his kin."
Two young men stepped forward immediately and dragged the corpse toward the pyre outside the wall.
Torya turned to the others. "The women and elders prepare the meat. Smoke what you can. Hunters, clean your weapons and rest. When the moon rises, gather by the central fire. We need to talk."
That evening, the clearing before the cave glowed with the warm light of torches. The smell of smoked boar filled the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of burning sap. Sparks drifted upward, disappearing into the night.
The Emberkin sat in a circle Torya, Varin, Saran, Daren, and the rest of the hunters. Behind them, deeper in the caves, the younger ones laughed softly as they worked, cutting strips of meat to hang over the fires.
Saran was the first to speak. "So it's true. The west is burning."
Varin nodded grimly. "And if the Ashkin's words are right, it won't be long before the chaos spreads here."
Daren leaned forward, his tone skeptical. "And what do we do? We barely finished the wall. The food stores are half full, and the young ones tire easily. We can't fight a war."
Torya stared into the fire. "Then we make sure the war doesn't reach us. We fortify. We train. And we learn what's happening beyond our forest."
Another hunter Leron, quiet and sharp-eyed spoke next. "The wall helps, but it won't stop everything. If they come in force…"
Varin raised a hand. "We can't rely on defense alone. We must know the land—its paths, its hidden places, its enemies."
Torya nodded. "Agreed. We need scouts."
"Scouts?" Daren frowned. "We can barely keep hunters fed."
"Then we use who we have," Torya replied. "Small groups, light and quiet. We map the nearby woods, mark the safe routes, and look for any movement west of the river."
Saran sighed. "And if we find trouble?"
"Then we report it before it finds us."
The old man studied him carefully. "You speak like one who has already decided."
"I have," Torya said. His gaze swept the firelit faces of his people. "We've hidden long enough. If the forest truly burns, then the Emberkin must be ready to rise or be consumed."
Varin tapped his staff thoughtfully. "Perhaps it's time to reach out. The Lapinfolk to the north might still remember our trades of old. They are not fighters, but they hear much beneath the roots."
"The Lapinfolk?" Daren muttered. "They burrow and hide. You'd trust them?"
"They survive," Varin said simply. "And in times like these, survival is wisdom."
The circle fell silent.
Varin talked, his voice filled with sadness. "I do not want the children's be involve, but it seems we have no choice."
Torya said. "sacrifices are needed."
For a long moment, only the crackle of fire filled the air. Then Varin nodded solemnly. "Then it is decided. We strengthen our walls, train our young, and prepare for the worst. Tomorrow, the scouts begin their work."
Later that night, as the tribe retreated into the caves, Torya remained outside. The air was cool, carrying the scent of wood smoke and fresh earth. He stood near the entrance, his gaze lifted toward the vast night sky.
Two moons shone brightly above the larger one white as snow, the smaller tinted faintly blue. Their light spilled over the forest canopy, painting the leaves in silver.
Lera approached quietly, her bare feet making no sound on the ground. She stopped beside him, glancing upward. "You're awake again," she said softly.
Torya smiled faintly. "Too much noise in my head."
She followed his gaze to the moons. "They're beautiful," she whispered.
"They are," he agreed.
Lera was silent for a while, then asked, "Do you think the Ashkin was telling the truth?"
"Yes," Torya said after a pause. "And if the forest truly burns, then the Emberkin must decide will we be the flame that endures, or the ash left behind?"
She nodded quietly, eyes glowing faintly with reflected moonlight. "Then we'll endure. All of us."
Torya looked toward the distant treeline, where shadows danced beneath the twin moons. Somewhere beyond, the chaos was spreading wars between tribes, hunger, fire, and death.
He exhaled slowly. "Then tomorrow," he murmured, "we begin to prepare."
And under the silver-blue light of the two moons, the Emberkin's embers burned quietly on small, but unyielding.