Like every morning, he woke up holding Elua tight.
She was still asleep, so distant, feeling so distant to him. The female's fur brushed against his hard scales every time their breath met.
Outside, the cold dew covered the camp. It filtered in, to the mat, to the pelts and blankets, to the cushions they lay on. Even in the warm season the top of the hill felt fresh. Rumors of work had yet to start, kobels still slowly awakened.
The only true noise was that birds and of the captives in their pens.
Elua shook herself out of sleep, in a loud sneeze, turned around and saw that majestic muzzle press against hers.
"Good morning." He whispered at her ear.
His hand, out of habit, had started to caress her shoulder, right where the three jade stones carved the flesh. She nestled against him, answered with the same chirpy tone he had.
Once again she had awakened in the arms of the most beautiful, most powerful male of the entire tribe. A mate no kobel could even dream of. Once again her heart went wild just feeling his so warm and his rough touch.
His eyes on her were too much to take.
She slipped out of his grasp, got up and stretched.
"I'll get breakfast."
She rang the copper bell. A minute passed, then a fawn showed up bringing them plates. Two more behind carried a wooden basin already filled with cold water. It filled almost all the space left in the tent, but they didn't mind.
He was watching her draping herself and picking new jewelry. She knew he was looking and made it a show.
Hot stones took a bit to get the water tepid, then decently warm. During that time Tunu had got up in turn and they still cuddled, picking from the offered plates, exchanging lovely words.
Screams broke out. Cries from the sentries.
An alert.
The fawns got fearful, fell back and crouched in corners of the tent. Elua then held on to Tunu's arm, not wanting to let him go.
"Don't leave me!" She pleaded.
He only mocked her, touched her soft muzzle: "Silly you."
Once clothed the scaled kobel got out and joined the confusion. People ran around, asked and looked for weapons. The warriors were already converging to the lower plateaus. He ran in that direction, but to a small cliff from which to look below.
At the base of the hill, where the woods ended he could see the attackers.
They were still assembling in front of the trees, some dozen of them but despite the distance he could make them out. His heart leaped of joy at their sight. A challenge! He had recognized minotaurs and knew immediately that the tribe may not survive the day.
They had to flee.
Like fawns, like kobels, minotaurs were tribesmen. But those were strong. Two meters tall still felt small to them. Those bulls had nothing but muscles, large smooth horns sharp as spearheads and sturdier. A single one of them could have wiped half of the kobels.
He jumped down to join the warriors that stretched from the camp down to the last piles of stones where future houses were erected. Here with little to hide behind they had only the height to take refuge and did not know where to make their stand.
They saw their champion, regained courage.
"What do we do?" One asked. "Those must be minotaurs!"
"They are." Tunu was confident. "I bet they think we are easy prey!"
"Aren't we?! Those are iron weapons in their hands! Iron!"
Iron was about the strongest metal the tribes knew of. There were tales of bronze ones but none knew what it took, just as few knew how to handle iron.
So that warrior was right. Those beasts were not just much stronger, at a whole other level that even Tunu knew was past him; they held axes, maces and wore cuirasses against which all the kobels had would break.
A few more bulls were emerging from the trees.
That was what delayed the attack. The minotaurs were still assembling. Which meant more even would appear. Fifteen, sixteen.
He could feel it. The scaled kobel could feel his heart beat madly. His tongue lick against his teeth with blind excitement.
"We can't stay here!" Another warrior warned. "We need to flee!"
"Stay put!" Another warned. "Follow our champion!"
"Champion, if we stay everyone dies! We need to save the tribe!"
They were still scattered at different heights. Were the bulls to attack now, it would have only been minutes to form a coherent defense. In the grey morning all still waited, fearful and indecisive, for the order to retreat.
Then the chief appeared. Warriors followed him as he walked down toward the champion.
"Leave? Flee? Abandon everything and go back to walking in shame?! What happened to your blood! We are kobels! We claimed this hill! This is our home!"
He approached Tunu and forced himself not to look at the bulls assembling down afar.
The chief, too, was tense. His eyes betrayed fear, the knowledge of death coming that he was trying to cover with false bravery. The moment he stopped talking, he clenched his teeth.
"Tunu, what do you reckon?"
And the kobel felt it. He could say one word for the entire tribe to turn heel. Their fate at his lips.
So he smiled. Offered his fist.
He turned to the warriors forming around them.
"Can you feel it?! This fear, wrapping us. We are so used to be weak, fleeing is all we can think of! But we are not weak anymore! We are strong! You are strong now!"
They looked at him and believe not a word of it. They looked at him and wanted to believe every single word.
"Who would have imagined standing there today?! Imagine what awaits us tomorrow! All you see is your frail skin but you have wyvern blood! We have wyvern blood! So fight! Fight for it! Follow me and let's claim our scales together!"
"Are you ready to enter the legends!?" The chief screamed after him.
His booming voice was echoed by that of his warriors. Up above from the camp the rest of the tribe heard their warcry, answered in turn. Everyone felt it, the moment passed and the thought of fleeing waned.
They would make a stand, regardless of the odds.
"Buy us time, I'll form a spear wall for you to fall back behind. Once in place we'll break their assaults and pick them up one by one."
"You can count on us!" Tunu assured, almost too eagerly.
There was still some shades of a child left in those words. But he had said us and that alone gave heart to the old kobel. They shook arms then each went to prepare for battle.
Twenty-three, no, twenty-seven.
The minotaurs, after a short quarrel among them, turned fully to the hill and advanced.
All around, in the woods, the kobels pointed to silhouettes hidden. Fawns, but also Wulvers and Wéréns. At that distance only Tunu could truly identify their shapes in the foliage.
He didn't quite know what to make of it, but in truth the hill was surrounded. Those were the minotaurs' tributaries, pressed into arms to guard all escapes. There had never been a choice for the kobels, but to fight.
So he rallied his warriors against the approaching beasts.