Argo was crouched near a tree as he watched a Sabertooth Tiger chasing a bunch of Mountain Goats, pouncing on the biggest male. He witnessed the two long fangs pierce its neck, blood bursting everywhere as the beast died. Just then, Artemis appeared beside him, letting out a low growl.
'That thing will give Aslan a good fight,' she revealed, crouching nearby. 'Maybe both of us can win but we'd be seriously injured.'
''Don't worry,'' he answered, waving her away. ''We're not fighting it, let it eat while we harvest the Ironthorne Trees.''
Following that, Argo continued watching the tiger dragging the goat back to its home in the opposite direction. When the creature vanished, he stood up and approached the closest tree, which was surprising. It was white and had blueish leaves; it didn't look like any tree he'd ever seen.
When standing in front of the Ironthorne, he was confused as he didn't know how to cut a strip of wood from it, prompting him to leap up and grab hold of one of the branches before bending it toward him. Now Argo was bouncing up and down, making Athena giggle. 'Arg, what are you doing?'
''Trying to break this!'' he snapped.
Just then, Artemis jumped up, biting down on his branch and pulling it down with him, causing a loud crack to echo out. It crashed down minutes later, allowing Argo to pick it up and study it. He moved it around and soon nodded. ''Perfect for my new spear, but now we need some obsidian to make the tip.''
'Not gonna jump on any boulders, are you?' the Nightclaw teased.
Argo glanced at his beasts with a mock offended expression as he replied. ''What's with you two and teasing me?'
They laughed once again, causing him to move on to look for some Viperthorne Resin, which he saw at the base of the mountain. Argo carried the branch down the path, dodging any predators thanks to Aslan and Artemis's presence, which was a deterrent to keep most things away.
By the time his boots scraped the valley floor, his breath came in pulls, each exhale clouding in the cooling air. The sun had already slipped behind the western ridge, painting the sky in bruised purples and molten gold. He paused, wiped sweat from his brow, and tilted his head toward the darkening heavens.
Athena wheeled overhead, her wings carving silent arcs against the fading light. ''Hey,'' he called, voice rough from the climb down. ''Any chance you can scout us a flat patch to crash tonight?''
The Grey Owl dipped a wing in acknowledgment and banked sharply, vanishing beyond the treeline. He watched her silhouette flicker against the last sliver of sunset, then turned to follow the faint trail she'd left in the air, a shimmer of displaced mist that only his eyes could track.
Minutes later, she reappeared, gliding low over the ridge. A single tilt of her talons pointed him left, toward a narrow gap between two moss-covered boulders. He shouldered his pack higher and pushed through. The clearing opened like a secret kept by the valley itself and would keep him safe at night.
A perfect circle of soft grass no wider than a small house, ringed by ancient willows whose branches drooped to form a living curtain. A thin stream threaded through the center, its water so clear it looked like liquid glass under the first stars. The air smelled of damp earth and crushed pine needles, cool and clean.
He let the pack slide from his shoulders and exhaled, long and slow. ''Secluded enough for everyone?'' he asked the darkness.
Athena landed without a sound on a low branch, folding her wings with the satisfied air of someone who'd just won a bet. Her golden eyes caught the starlight. 'Secluded enough for all of us,' she seemed to say.
He knelt by the stream, cupped a handful of water, and drank. It tasted of stone and distant snow. Then he unrolled his bedroll in the grass, the clearing's quiet so complete he could hear the faint rustle of Athena preening her feathers. Somewhere far off, an owl called once and fell silent.
By the time the moon cleared the ridge, the fire was no more than a palm-sized glow of embers, just enough to keep the chill off. He lay back, one arm behind his head, and watched the stars wheel overhead through the willow's lace. ''Tomorrow we search for obsidian and materials for a dagger,'' he murmured.
Athena nodded as Aslan and Artmies slumped near the entrance, keeping the night predators at bay. While lying there getting comfortable, a horrifying roar echoed across the sky, rattling his bones and making him tremble as his head snapped to the north as Athena's head popped up.
'The northern monsters!' she hissed, fear welling up in her voice.
Argo glanced at the Grey Owl, asking. ''Northern monsters? They're a myth told to scare the Varna children.''
'No they're not, Arg,' she replied. 'Beyond this valley the world is even more dangerous, monsters roam the wilds, mystic peoples who practice strange stuff and worship evil gods.'
''Huh? Mother only mentions the monsters, not the other tribes,'' he muttered in response.
Just then, Artemis commented from the clearing's entrance. 'She's speaking the truth, my parents came from the outside world, the beasts there are something else.'
Argo opened his mouth to speak, but a sharp rustle snapped his head toward the willow curtain, two footsteps, soft-soled, human. The sound scraped along his nerves like flint on steel. He snatched the dagger from his belt, its edge nicked almost to uselessness, and surged to his feet.
Aslan's growl rolled out first, low, seismic, rattling the leaves. The footsteps died mid-stride. Athena flared her wings from her perch on the leopard's back. 'Night People!' she barked, voice cutting the dark like a bell. 'Guard the master!'
The American Lion moved in a blur of shadow and muscle, planting his bulk at the entrance. Artemis flowed up beside him, pressing her smaller frame against his foreleg, hackles raised, teeth glinting white. The two beasts formed a living gate, eyes glowing bright. His pulse hammered in his ears.
Argo spun toward the Grey Owl, her silhouette perched between Aslan's shoulders like a pale, feathered wraith. ''What are Night People?'' he questioned, voice barely above the crackle of dying embers.
Her head swiveled, blue eyes in the dark. 'Cannibals from the far north,' she whispered, the words slithering in his mind. 'They were born a lifetime ago. Once human. Now they hunt only after the sun goes down, and they eat anything warm: beasts, men, children. Whatever bleeds. Above all, do not listen when they speak. Their voices crawl inside your skull and hollow you out.'
Argo's grip tightened on the dagger. A cold sweat prickled his spine. Then something came, sending a chill down his spine; it was a voice from beyond the clearing, soft as a lullaby and twice as wrong.
''Little Varna,'' it sang, syllables dripping like honey over broken glass. ''Come outside. We're so hungry. Just a taste of your warmth, that's all we need.''
The words curled into the clearing, threading through the grass, brushing his ears like spider silk. His knees weakened; the dagger trembled in his fist. 'What the fuck is this? A horror movie from Earth!'
Moments later, the voice kept crooning as though it spoke from inside his own mouth. ''Such tender meat on the boy, such a frightened little heart.''
His legs buckled as he'd never encountered or heard of such creatures. The dagger slipped from numb fingers and stuck point-first in the soft earth. He couldn't look away from the willow curtain, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Then the curtain exploded inward as four shapes burst through, tall, rail-thin, skin the color of old parchment stretched over bone.
Their eyes were milk-white and full of hunger. Rags of hide and hair clung to their frames; elongated jaws yawned open, revealing rows of needle teeth. They moved with a sickening grace, bare feet silent on the grass. Aslan met them mid-leap; the lion's roar was a physical blow. He crashed into the first creature, jaws clamping around its throat without giving it a chance to react.
A wet crunch, a spray of black blood. The second Night Person slashed at him with claws like iron hooks; Aslan twisted, raked with hind legs, and the thing's ribcage peeled open like wet paper. Artemis darted beneath the chaos, hamstringing a third with a snarl, dragging it down so Aslan could finish it with a single crushing bite to the skull.
Four bodies hit the ground in less than three heartbeats, limbs twitching, mouths still working soundlessly. The voice laughed, low, delighted, drifting from everywhere and nowhere. ''Oh, brave beast, but we are many, little Varna, one boy, two beasts, such a delicious meal.''