"The journey was nearly over, but the hardest part remained: convincing the rest of the tribe that the beasts at their heels were now their brothers-in-arms."
And the story continues...
Earlier, from their high vantage point, the guards had spotted the returning hunters despite the dimming sun over the horizon. Relief washed over the watchtower... until they focused on the vanguard.
Leading the human column, moving with predatory ease, was a pack of beasts. "Wolves!" someone shouted, voice sharp with alarm. "Look!" Sentries spun, weapons snapping toward the tree line. A few young guards took involuntary steps back, fear etched on their faces.
"God help us..."
"Are our hunters their captives?"
"Is this some trick?"
The guards froze, recognizing the returning men but baffled by the wolves leading them. Bows were gripped tighter, ready to fire at any moment.
"What... what happened?" one whispered, eyes wide. "Our hunters were captured!" The other replied, voice tight with fear.
Unable to comprehend, they did the only thing they could. The lead guard barked orders. "Sound the alarm! Call the Elders! Call the Defense Team!"
The ringer's hands shook as he pulled the bell rope. The alarm sounded frantically, not a welcome song, but a warning: beasts are approaching their gate. And within minutes, the news cascaded through the underground village.
Panic ignited like wildfire as people digging outside the perimeter scrambled behind the incomplete barricades of sharp-pointed stakes, shovels, and picks, clutching them like desperate weapons. Fear etched their faces, eyes darting toward the treeline as if expecting the forest itself to unleash its wrath.
Elder Lena, inspecting the progress of the ongoing works, froze, her gaze locked onto the approaching horde. The defense force, already taut with tension, grabbed spears and bows, rushing to the makeshift walls—remnants of subway cars, heaps of rubble, anything to shield them, ready to face a nightmare they'd prepared for.
They held their breath, hearts pounding in unison, facing Barik's bizarre procession like a grotesque mockery of a triumphant return. The air thickened with dread as the returning hunters approached, the wolves padding alongside like spectral guardians. The villagers' eyes widened, hands tightening on weapons, as the unthinkable took shape before them: the enemy walking in, not with swords and fire, but with an unspoken understanding that the rules had changed.
Barik's team moved slowly, weighed down by heavy carts and exhaustion. Finally, Haven Below. Almost home. The cliff beckoned, their shelters, a tunnel deep in the mountain.
They reached the edge of the trench, beyond is the makeshift gate. The massive steel Main Gate loomed closer, shielding their home from the poisoned world.
The defense group stood frozen outside, unwilling to approach. Defenders waited, frozen, as humans peered down from the half‑built barricades, terrified.
Behind the trees, Jag's pack halted as one, silent, watchful, very much aware that the ground ahead was a different territory now.
Barik raised his fist, and the party halted short of the trenches. He rode forward, dirt-streaked and exhausted, shouting up to the ramparts, "Open the Gate!"
But the gate didn't budge. Guards shifted, crossbows angled down, spearpoints glinting. No laughter. No cheers.
Barik stood, bewildered as the rest of his group, silence stretched like a taut rope about to snap. The villagers should be cheering, offering warm embraces, not gripping their spears like lifelines. Why weren't they welcomed as heroes? Hadn't they brought back the meat, the hides, the proof of their bravery?
Then it hit him, like a cold wind off the mountain—the wolves. Leading them. Eyes fixed on the villagers. Barik's fatigue-addled mind replayed the scene: the pack's eerie calm, Jag's silver gaze, the way the villagers' faces had drained of color.
His eyes widened, horror creeping in. Oh no. They think... they think the beasts are here to attack!
The weight of it crushed him. Barik turned, instinctively stepping toward the wolves, as if to shield them from the arrows, the fear, the misunderstanding. His boots scraped against the stone, a desperate lunge forward. "No, wait!" he shouted, voice hoarse, cutting through the charged air like a knife. "They're harmless!"
He froze, hands outstretched, a man pleading for the lives of beasts. The villagers' bows trembled, fingers twitching on triggers. The wolves, sensing the tension, stood motionless, guardians in the eye of the storm.
Barik's gaze darted to Elder Lena, imploring. Explain. Tell them. But her eyes were fixed on the wolves, her face a mask of wary confusion.
He turned back to the pack, his voice cracking. "They... they helped us. Protected us." The words felt hollow, inadequate. How do you explain an alliance forged in blood and silver to people who'd been taught to fear the woods?
Eris felt a spike of agony behind his eyes at the sound of the bells. To the others, they were noise; to him, they were a psychic hammer. The sound waves clashed with the humming frequency of the pack, creating a discordant shriek in his mind.
They're afraid, he thought, his pulse racing. They don't see the meat or the miracle. They only see the fangs.
He glanced at Jag. The Alpha lowered her head, a low growl vibrating in her chest. The pack was confused; the were bells a challenge, a territorial roar from the human "den." Eris felt like a glass bridge under pressure.
The wolf pack dropped to the ground as one, snouts on paws, a clear posture of peace, yet alert. The display only heightened the guards' fear. A low murmur spread across the wall. Tension snapped taut.
Again, Barik's voice stayed low but cut through the air. "Stand down. They're under truce."
"Truce?" the Lead Guard barked. "With wolves?"
Eris stepped forward before Barik could answer. "They are friends. They escorted us. Held the forest while we moved wounded and slow."
"I'm not asking you, Silver-Vein," the Lead Guard retorted.
Barik snapped, "Don't you ever speak to Eris like that! He saved us all!"
The guard flailed, caught off guard by Barik's anger. Thin, brittle silence stretched tight between fear and disbelief on his face. Yet he stood firm.
Haven Below wasn't sure it wanted them back.
***
"Silence!" Finally, Elder Lena spoke, her voice a weighted stone cutting through chaos. The bells faltered, then stopped. She stood beside the Captain of the Guard, face a map of wrinkles and ancient knowledge.
Atop the wall, she looked down at the weary group, Barik leading, Joeren tall, Renzo and Tonovan pale in the cart, wolves statuesque.
"Barik!" Elder Lena's voice cut through the tension, stone-like authority ringing in every syllable. "What have you brought to Haven? The wolves... why are the beasts with you?"
Barik stepped forward, palms open, words spilling out in a rush. "We had a truce with the pack... they're friends!" He pointed behind him, voice hurried. "We accomplished our tasks. Rescued the wounded, the rest of the hunting team!"
The villagers didn't move, eyes fixed on the wolves like they were nightmare creatures. Elder Lena's gaze narrowed, analyzing the scene.
Barik's voice grew louder, desperate to break the spell. "The pack escorted us on our travel." He shouted, "We crossed the Red Zone without challenge! We have the meat and hides."
The Captain of the Guard hesitated, then stepped aside as Great Elder Ruvio approached, gnarled staff in hand. Elder Faren and Elder Rhys flanked him, with Elder Mishal and the rest of the elders behind.
The Great Elder's ancient eyes locked onto Eris and Jag. He didn't cower from the wolves; instead, he stood with serene gravity, commanding the air.
His gaze swept the scene: wounded, hunters, wolves, carcasses, meat, hides. He walked past trembling archers, eyes finding Jag.
The Alpha's hackles lowered; there was no malice in the old man.
The crowd hushed. Torches hissed in the dusk. The forest loomed, watchful.
The Great Elder lifted his staff, planted it with a thud, and commanded, "Stand down!" The villagers hesitated, then slowly lowered their weapons.
He turned to the crowd, eyes grave. "People of Haven Below... you see before you not only those who returned, but those who were returned."
Murmurs rippled through the air like wind.
"These hunters walked home under the forest's protection. Wolves ran before them, friends, not foes. They stood between our people and death."
He turned to the pack, a quiet reverence in his voice. "Wolves of the northern pack," the Great Elder called, "Haven Below gives thanks."
A stir passed through the trees. Eyes caught torchlight. Shapes moved, slow and deliberate.
The crowd shifted, uneasy.
Beneath his voice, Elder Ruvio sent a thought: You've done more than return our sons. He bowed to the pack. You've given us bodies of your fallen to sustain ours. Haven acknowledges this debt. By blood and silver, we're bound.
Jag didn't step forward. We keep the old ways, came the reply, wordless yet clear. You keep yours.
The Great Elder inclined his head. Then, let the ground between us remain unbloodied. For now.
Only Eris felt the exchange, the weight of two minds touching. He realized: the Great Elder was part of it.
Elder Ruvio turned back. "Tonight... Haven Below doesn't stand alone." He commanded, "Open the gate."
The gate swung inward. The cart passed through. In the dark beyond the trenches, Jag's pack melted into the ruined land, watchful, acknowledged, no longer unseen.
***
As the cart rolled forward, the crowd parted, some in relief, some in unease. Kaylah walked close beside Renzo and Tonovan, eyes sharp, ready to steady them if the cart jolted. Joeren followed closer behind. Barik stayed near the front, posture rigid, ready for anything.
Eris nodded to Jag, walked beneath watchtowers, and crossed the threshold. He looked up at people peering down and felt the weight of change.
The pack turned as one and melted back into the trees, keeping their distance, their vigil unbroken. They acted not like wild animals seeking entry, but like loyal, weary hounds waiting for their master's command. Wounded wolves and cubs joined them. No restlessness, they were tired, sated, focused on Jag.
The escort was over, but the alliance had been sealed in the sight of the tribe.
The bells' echo still lingered in his ears long after the sound had ceased.
He looked up at the towers, at the people peering down from behind stone and wood, and felt the weight of what they carried home, not just meat and hides, but change. The world beyond the gorge had shifted.
"Outside, wolves were unseen but present. Inside, Haven Below braced itself."
***