Will snapped out of his rage. The werewolf closest to him on the opposite bank was already almost at the stream.
He could even see the creature's protruding canines, the blood threads between its teeth, and its cold beast eyes.
"Come on, my lord!"
The servant's shout pulled him back to reality. Although the daze had lasted less than half a second, in a life-or-death moment it was enough to decide everything. Will scrambled up the slope without caring about dignity. His water-soaked boots had never made him regret leaving the camp—where he had felt nothing but humiliation—so much.
Fortunately the distance wasn't far, and the wolf pack still needed some time to reach him.
Will ran with all his might. He saw the servant pulling the horse's reins, struggling to control the panicked mount. Hope seemed to bloom right in front of him.
They weren't far from the camp—only two or three miles. Because he didn't want ordinary soldiers and civilians to see his sorry state, Will had deliberately run a bit farther, but he wasn't stupid enough to wander too far alone in unfamiliar territory.
He never expected these beasts would dare come this close!
He had to get back and warn those careless bastards!
In his panic Will found a reason that could let him salvage a little dignity and humiliation—provided he could make it back to camp.
Just when Will was one step away from hope, the horse suddenly neighed as if whipped and scattered in all directions. The servant was caught off guard, dragged to the ground, and pulled along.
"Sigmar!"
Falling into the abyss took only an instant. A group of horned beast bastards had somehow circled to the other side of the river and already blocked the fastest route back to camp.
Besides, without horses now, trying to break out on foot alone—unless Will Julius was Sigmar's Chosen.
In just a dozen steps he reached the spot where he had dismounted. He looked around. The world was vast, yet only those beastmen stood out so glaringly.
Will's lips trembled. He rushed down again toward the corpse of the arrow-struck servant, picked up the short sword from beside his hand, and gripped it tightly. He heard fierce splashing. The moment he raised his head, a swift figure pounced and knocked him to the ground.
Stinking breath sprayed across Will's face. A powerful werewolf stepped on the hand holding the sword while another claw pressed down on his chest, pinning him completely.
Its sharp fangs hovered right in front of Will. The young man's mind went blank. Shame, struggle, faith—all vanished without a trace. There was only the werewolf's foul, hot breath.
He could almost hear the beast's heartbeat!
The werewolf sniffed at Will, then pressed down harder on his arm. Claws extended and sank into flesh.
Will screamed. His hand loosened and the short sword fell away.
Then the werewolf tossed him aside and chased after the servant being dragged by the horse.
Several horned beastmen carrying spears and short bows surrounded him. Without a word they tied Will up, dragged him out of the stream, and took him into the forest.
An old beastman holding a staff, wearing a cloak, and bearing the All-Things Shepherd emblem of vines entwined around a moon on his chest swept a cold gaze over Will, then turned and walked deeper into the dense woods. The other beastmen followed. Only a small number of wolves were sent to finish off the servant.
"Vile beasts, wait in your filthy caves! The righteous wrath will not be long in coming!"
Perhaps the second dip in cold water had cleared Will's mind a little. He gritted his teeth, gathered his courage, and provoked: "Sigmar's children will burn every one of your nests, cut off your heads, slaughter your cubs, and light holy flames with your evil totems."
The horned beastmen escorting Will all showed hostile expressions. After converting to the All-Things Shepherd and breaking free from corruption, most beastmen, though still highly wild due to their primitive lives, were no longer the blindly foolish race that only knew destruction, eating, and mating.
With wisdom and tribes came simple distinctions: them and us.
For Shepherd believers, "them" sometimes meant the corrupted ones who had once been their kin, sometimes elves, humans, or other races.
As Shepherd-worshipping beastmen, they rarely killed each other internally because there were few fundamental conflicts of interest, and those could usually be resolved through duels between champions, shaman debates, magical contests, or inviting third-party arbitrators.
Civilized beastmen easily received help from veteran kin and were willing to treat new kin the same. In colonial cities there were often entire districts packed with large numbers of beastmen. These hoofed ones who had broken away from Chaos, though often discriminated against or exploited by humans and elves, knew that dividing strength by appearance only weakened them. Only by banding together could all horned and hooved Shepherd believers maintain this hard-won stability.
This was also an important reason their numbers were steadily increasing—unity.
The shaman slightly curled his fingers. A foul-smelling yellow wasp flew out from his wide robe and instantly landed on Will's mouth.
The young man's legs went soft. He almost cried out but didn't dare open his mouth, because the wasp was desperately trying to crawl inside.
"Our ancestors include humans, and are even older than humans. Now, called by the All-Things Shepherd, we have broken free from Chaos's prison."
"The right to freedom and survival belongs to us alone. Only nature can take it away, not your steel and gunpowder, human."
The shaman pressed his staff against Will's mouth and slowly pried it open. The wasp seized the chance and crawled inside.
Will's face changed drastically. He couldn't stop dry-heaving, but the wasp seemed to have latched onto his throat and refused to let go. No matter how hard he retched, feeling like his guts were about to come out, he couldn't expel the insect.
"Tell me, why have you come?"
The shaman lightly placed his staff on Will's head. The young man trembled, still wanting to say something. The shaman saw through his thoughts and spoke: "If you want to spend the rest of your life with them, have them lay eggs and build nests inside your body, watch their larvae crawl out of your cock and into your eye sockets—and stay alive for a very long time—then refuse to answer."
The heavily battered young man let out his last breath and collapsed powerlessly to the ground.
Thar stood up from the ground, expression complicated.
He thought of that seemingly kind boy who was just a bit more lively than most cubs.
In Thar's understanding, Al was Zharkhan's son, merely confirming the dark prophecy Zharkhan had received.
So in Thar's eyes, Al belonged to the tribe.
But because of Alina's existence…
"We head straight to the old site."
Thar leaned on his staff and glanced down at Will, whose bonds had been loosened but who now looked ashen-faced and completely hopeless.
"Bring him."