Outside the elder's home, the settlement had already shifted into motion.
The turtles waiting there were not the same ones Aric had seen carrying tools or moving between the structures. These were different. He could feel it immediately.
They stood with purpose—weapons ready, bodies still, eyes sharp.
Hunters.
Aric slowed as he stepped into the open space beside Luma and Brenok. No one said anything at first, but every gaze settled on him all the same—measured, curious, skeptical.
There were five of them waiting.
The first was leaner than the others, taller in a narrow, drawn-out way that made him seem longer than he should have been. His shell was smoother, darker, and his eyes moved constantly, never staying in one place for long. He watched the tree line, the rooftops, the ground, then Aric—all in the same breath.
Scout.
That was the first word that came to mind.
"Reth," Luma said quietly.
Reth gave a short nod. Nothing more.
Next to him stood the exact opposite—broad, thick, heavy. This one looked like he had been carved from the same stone used in the settlement walls. His shell was massive, his arms thick with muscle, his stance planted so firmly it seemed like it would take an earthquake to move him. He carried a long-handled hammer, nearly as tall as Aric.
"Dren," Brenok said.
Dren glanced at Aric once, then away, as if the matter had already been decided.
A third stood slightly apart. Smaller than Brenok. Slimmer than Luma. Calm. Her movements were so precise they almost disappeared if he didn't watch carefully. She was stringing a bow, fingers moving with practiced ease.
She looked up. Held his gaze for a moment. Then returned to her work.
"Sira."
No response.
The fourth was easier to read. Taller than Luma, lighter than Brenok, with a restless sharpness to him. A curved blade hung at his side, and one hand rested on it loosely.
He looked Aric up and down.
"So that's him."
"Keth," Luma said.
Keth's mouth curved slightly.
The last stood nearest to Brenok. Older—not like Korran, but experienced. His shell was scarred, edges chipped, his presence quiet but heavy. He didn't stare. He simply looked once—and that was enough.
"Varok."
He dipped his head slightly.
Aric swallowed.
Seven.
This was the group.
And he was part of it.
Somehow.
No one spoke after that. The silence wasn't awkward. It was deliberate—a held breath before movement.
Luma's gaze shifted—not to his face, but to his arm.
Aric noticed it a second too late.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stepped closer, focusing on the dried blood and the way he held it.
"You're injured."
"…It's fine," Aric said.
It wasn't.
Luma didn't argue. She simply reached into a pouch at her side and pulled out a strip of cloth.
Brenok's gaze followed the motion—sharp, observant.
"Hold," Luma said.
Aric hesitated, then extended his arm.
Her hands were firm as she adjusted his sleeve and exposed the wound just enough to work. The cloth wrapped tightly around his arm in practiced layers—secure, efficient.
It hurt.
But less than before.
"…Thanks," Aric said quietly.
Luma pressed the bandage once, testing it.
"Don't rely on it," she said. "But it will hold."
Aric nodded.
Brenok shifted slightly beside them. Not interrupting. Not approving. Just watching.
Then he looked away.
As the group shifted into position, Aric became aware of something else.
Everyone was armed.
He wasn't.
The difference felt obvious. Dangerous.
His gaze moved over their weapons—long spears, heavy tools, built for bodies that could actually use them.
Not for him.
He didn't say anything.
Someone else noticed.
Sira.
She had already moved ahead—but stopped. Turned. Looked at him.
Then, without a word, she walked to a low rack near the edge of the settlement. Larger weapons rested there. She ignored them.
Reached lower.
Pulled something free.
A spear.
Shorter. Lighter. Worn. The tip not fully sharpened.
For training.
She walked back and held it out.
"For you."
Aric looked at it. Then at her.
"…This is for kids, isn't it?"
"Yes."
No hesitation.
Aric let out a quiet breath.
"…Better than nothing."
He took it. The weight settled into his hand—lighter than expected, but balanced enough.
He adjusted his grip, testing it. It felt wrong—but not useless.
"Distance," Sira said. "Keep it."
"I will."
Behind them, Keth snorted.
"Try not to stab yourself first."
"Noted."
Reth didn't react. Dren glanced once, then away. Varok said nothing, but his eyes lingered slightly longer this time.
Brenok's gaze shifted briefly toward the weapon, then to Aric.
Still unconvinced.
But not dismissing him anymore.
Luma said nothing.
She only watched.
"He doesn't look like much," Keth said.
"No," Brenok replied.
Blunt.
Sira spoke next.
"He survived."
That changed something. Small, but noticeable.
"He will learn," Luma said.
Aric glanced at her. She didn't look back. She was adjusting her gear.
Brenok shifted slightly closer to her without thinking, positioning himself between her and the others. Luma reached out and tightened a strap along the edge of his shell.
A small movement.
Familiar.
Brenok didn't react.
Keth noticed.
"Try not to slow her down this time."
Brenok's eyes narrowed.
Luma ignored it completely.
Varok exhaled slowly.
"Enough."
The word ended it.
"Reth. Front."
"Sira. Left."
"Dren. Center."
"Keth. Right."
"Brenok—with me."
"Luma. Rear watch."
Then Varok's gaze settled on Aric.
"You move where Luma moves."
"Understood."
Brenok didn't look pleased.
But he didn't argue.
The group began to move—not yet into the forest, but into formation.
Reth ahead. Sira drifting left. Keth to the right. Dren steady in the center. Varok and Brenok near the front. Luma slightly behind.
And Aric—
with her.
He adjusted his pace to match hers as they crossed the edge of the settlement. The sounds of the village faded behind them, replaced by the quiet of the trees.
The bandage held.
Barely.
No one spoke now. Weapons shifted. Steps softened. Even the air felt different.
The forest stood ahead—dark, still, waiting.
Aric took a slow breath.
Then stepped forward.
And the hunting party entered the forest.