They had all crawled out from piles of dead bodies. If their legs had been weak, they wouldn't have survived until now.
Fear couldn't defeat her, because her brother was right in front of her!
By the time the white wolf reacted, the boy had already regained his footing. He had swapped the broken rattan basket for the sickle in his hand, which meant he chose not to run but to fight.
He knew very well that he couldn't outrun it earlier. To turn and run at this distance would mean certain death, especially without a second rattan basket to save his life.
One could only say this person truly had nerves of steel to calmly think, keenly observe his surroundings to make a decision under such circumstances, and possess the guts to gamble.
But standing before him was absolute power.
Among the Barbarian Tribes, humans possessed no moral concepts, let alone wolves. Wolves instinctively preferred the weak, as they were less likely to fight back and cause injury.
