The path leading back to the Avas Tree house was dappled with the long, golden shadows of the setting sun, but the warmth of the light did not reach Ava or Kael. They walked in a heavy, suffocating silence, the weight of the stranger's revelation pressing down on them like a physical burden. Every rustle of the undergrowth felt like an omen, and every birdsong sounded like a dirge.
Their grim procession was interrupted when a tall, familiar figure stepped out from a side trail. It was Amon. He stopped, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his calm, Grey eyes washed over Ava with a warmth that felt painfully out of place given their current state of mind.
"Ava," Amon greeted, his voice a soothing baritone. He held up a small woven satchel, the earthy scent of fresh flora clinging to him. "I was actually just on my way to your hut. I spent the morning in the deeper parts of the forest and managed to find those wild star-anise herbs you love to use in your cooking. I remember you saying you were running low."
He paused, his smile faltering as he took in the rigid set of her shoulders and the haunted hollows beneath her eyes. He glanced at Kael, finding the same expression of suppressed stress mirrored there.
"Is something wrong?" Amon asked, his tone shifting from casual to concerned. "The two of you look as though the world is coming to an end."
Ava felt a bitter laugh bubble up in her throat, though she suppressed it. It isn't the world that's ending, Amon, she thought fiercely. It's our tribe. Our lives. Every bit of peace we've bled for is about to be burned to the ground.
She looked at Kael. They needed allies, and they needed them fast. Amon was not just a capable warrior; he was the son of Chief Morris. If they were to convince the village elders of the looming catastrophe, having Amon as a bridge was their best hope. Kael seemed to read her thoughts instantly, giving a sharp, solemn nod of approval.
Ava turned back to Amon, her voice low and trembling with the gravity of her words. She didn't hold back. She narrated everything—the stranger's warning, the treachery of Mara and Emily, and the shadow of King Darius's Hippo Tribe looming over their borders like a tidal wave of iron and meat.
Amon listened, his grip tightening on the strap of his satchel until his knuckles went white. He was visibly taken aback. The rivalry between Emily and Ava was well-known; a petty friction of personalities and status but the idea that it could escalate into a full-scale war seemed impossible.
"A war?" Amon whispered, the herbs forgotten in his hand. "Over a grievance between females? Darius is a tyrant, yes, but to mobilize an entire army against us..." He shook his head, trying to process the scale of the betrayal. "If Emily has truly been feeding information to her father to facilitate an invasion, we are in more danger than I dared imagine."
He straightened his posture, the softness in his eyes replaced by the cold clarity of a tactician. "We cannot act solely on suspicion, but we cannot afford to be idle. Ava, we should send our fastest scouts to the borders of the Hippo Tribe immediately. If there is any suspicious movement; any gathering of warriors or unusual logistical shifts; they must report back to me directly. In the meantime, I will see to it that patrols are doubled around our own perimeter. We need to know the moment an enemy foot touches our soil."
The trio continued their hurried pace toward Ava's home, discussing the logistics of the defense, when a frantic figure emerged from the brush ahead. It was George. He was unnervingly calm, and his face was that of a person bearing bad news.
He stopped before them, doubling over as if to catch his breath before looking up with eyes that held no hope.
"Gronk is gone," George spoke, his voice resentful. "I scouted their home from the high ridge. I stayed hidden for hours, masked my scent, and watched. Not once did I see him come out. Not once did I hear his voice. I waited, thinking perhaps he was out on a long hunt, but then I saw them—two males from the salt cave guards. They arrived to drop off fresh kills at the hut. I overheard them talking... it appears Emily has been promising to mate with them in exchange for their loyalty and silence."
The silence that followed was absolute. The final piece of the puzzle had clicked into place. With the tribe's males still recovering from the previous attack, the tribe was like a toothless wolf. Emily hadn't just invited an invasion; she had systematically chosen the tribe's moment of weakness to invite in an Enemy.
Ava felt a surge of cold fury. She looked at Amon, her eyes hard as flint. "What do we do now? If we wait for the scouts to return, Darius might already be at our gates. We have to seize Emily and her mates now. We have to take them as hostages to hold over the King's head."
Amon looked toward the Chief's hall, his jaw tight. "I think your idea is sound, Ava, but we must be careful. If we arrest them publicly without the Chief's word, we risk a civil split within the tribe. Emily still has her supporters—clearly, she has the salt cave guards in her pocket."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Here is what we do: we don't arrest them yet. Instead, I will hand-pick a group of loyal males to quietly monitor their every movement. They are to ensure neither Emily, Mara, nor their mates leave the village perimeter. While they are under surveillance, we will go directly to my father and the Shaman. We present George's findings and the stranger's warning. Once we have the Chief's blessing, we bring them all in for questioning. If they resist... then we treat them as the traitors they are."
Ava nodded slowly. The plan was measured, but the clock was ticking. The "annoyance" they had felt earlier had evolved into a sharp, jagged edge of survival. It hadn't been long since the stray attacks had decimated their numbers. They had lost so many fathers, brothers, and sons. To face an empire like the Hippo Tribe now, while still mourning their dead, was a nightmare made real.
"Go," Ava said to Amon, her voice steadying. "Talk to your father. Kael and his men will watch the paths. If Darius wants this land, he'll have to step over every one of us to get it."
As Amon turned to run toward the longhouse, Ava looked up at the darkening sky. The war was no longer coming; it was already here, hidden behind the smiles of "backstabbing tribe members"
The Tribe leaders tree house stood not too far from the shamans tree house which was close to the Tribe Square, as a silhouette against the deepening indigo of the twilight, its heavy wooden trunk smelling of ancient cedar and dried moss. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of tallow candles. Chief Morris sat upon a raised dais covered in thick furs, his weathered face etched with the lines of a hundred small wars and the recent, deeper grooves of grief for the men they had lost to the strays.
Amon entered without the usual rhythmic knock of a son, his footsteps heavy and urgent. Behind him, the Shaman Lazur, whose dull eyes were clouded with years of wisdom and sharp with intuition, stirred from the shadows.
"Father," Amon began, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. "The peace we've been clinging to is a mirage. We have been betrayed from within."
Chief Morris looked up, his grey brows knitting together. "Betrayal is a heavy word, Amon. You've been spending too much time listening to the whispers of the fearful. We are still rebuilding. We need stability, not trouble."
"This is no stability," Amon countered, stepping into the circle of firelight. "Ava and Kael have received word from a strange beastman; one whose claims have already been verified. Gronk is missing. Not out on a hunt, not visiting the northern ridges. He is gone, and in his absence, Emily has been seen bribing the salt cave guards with promises of mating in exchange for information about the salt cave and their silence. She is obtaining information for her father."
The mention of King Darius's daughter caused the Shaman to sit upright, his beaded necklaces clattering softly. "The Hippo King," Lazur whispered. "A man who views mercy as a defect of the weak."
Chief Morris stood slowly, his joints popping in the silence. The weight of his leadership seemed to pull at his shoulders. "Emily is a tribe member now, Amon. One with a powerful backing. If we move against the daughter of the Hippo Tribe without absolute proof, we don't just invite a war; we guarantee one. We are still weak from the stray attacks. We lost forty percent of our fighting males. Another conflict now..." He trailed off, looking at the empty seats around the council fire where his friends once sat.
"That is exactly why she chose now!" Amon's voice rose with a rare flash of temper. "She knows we are bleeding. She knows our claws are fewer and our defenses are cracked. If we wait for Darius to crest the horizon with his heavy vanguard, we won't be fighting a war; we'll be presiding over a massacre. George has already confirmed the movements at the hut. The guards are compromised. The border is porous."
Amon stepped closer to his father, lowering his tone to a desperate urgency. "Ava suggests we take them hostage. Use Emily as a shield. If Darius truly loves his daughter, he will halt his march. It is the only leverage we have left that doesn't involve more of our brothers dying a useless death."
The Shaman reached out a strong but aging hand, touching the Chief's arm. "Morris, the wind has changed. I smell the metallic tang of blood on the southern breeze. The girl, Emily... she carries the scent of her father's ambition. She has never truly been one of us."
Chief Morris closed his eyes, a long sigh escaping his chest. The silence in the room stretched, agonizingly tense. Outside, the village was quiet, the unsuspecting families settling in for a night that might be their last in peace. Finally, the Chief opened his eyes, and the weariness was gone, replaced by the cold, hard flint of a leader who had made a choice.
"I will not see our tribe erased because I was too polite to see a snake in my garden," Morris stated, his voice booming with renewed authority. "But we must be precise. If we cause a scene in the village square, Emily's bought guards might start a riot before we can secure her."
He looked at Amon. "Take five of your most trusted scouts—men who will not work at the salt caves tonight. Surround the traitors quietly. I want Emily and Mara brought here, to this hall, under the cover of darkness. Do not harm them unless they resist, but do not let them speak to anyone on the way. If her mates interfere, subdue them. Shaman Lazur, prepare the Wildtongue Medicine; if they won't speak the truth to me, they will speak it to the herbs."
Amon felt a surge of relief, followed immediately by a cold spike of adrenaline. "And the guards at the salt cave?"
"Strip them of their rank and lock them in the punishment pit," the Chief ordered, reaching for his heavy obsidian spear leaning against the wall. "They chose a female's favor over the lives of their kin. They are no longer part of this pack."
Amon disagreed "We can't send them away, they might share the secret of the cave with the outside world, moreover we need men for this upcoming battle" he added in "Why not leave them in the punishment pit and later put them at the forefront of the battle?"
The Shaman and the Tribe leader nodded their heads in agreement
Amon nodded, turning toward the door. "I'll coordinate with Ava. She's already watching the southern trail."
"Amon," his father called out. Amon stopped and looked back. The Chief looked older than he ever had, the firelight casting deep hollows in his cheeks. "If the King is already on the march... if this hostage play fails to hold them back... may the spirits forgive us for what comes next."
Amon didn't answer. He couldn't. He stepped out into the night, the cool air hitting his face. The plan was in motion. The time for strategy was over; the time for the hunt had begun.