"The trail was fresh, blood dark against the stone, sharp on the wind. Every heartbeat pressed the hunters closer to the ruin where the beast waited, wounded but far from broken."
Late that night, the alarm's clang faded into the darkness, leaving a tense silence. Kaylah's eyes snapped open.
A thousand questions crossed her mind. This was not a small beast or a scavenger, but something large and aggressive enough to test their defenses. Beside her, Eris slept soundly, undisturbed by the noise that had shaken Haven's stones.
Warriors ran toward the Main Gate, their boots thumping against the stone floors before a sudden quiet took over the night. The elders exchanged grave glances, feeling the threat pressing against their perimeter.
The beast's size stretched the limits of the stories told around the campfires. Its silhouette loomed over the gate, showing a thick coat with spine-like bristles and eyes that glowed amber. Its roar broke the quiet, sending vibrations through Haven's foundations.
By dawn, the event was already a rumor whispered over thin breakfast broth. A lone glass-back wolf, larger than any they had seen before, had battered the outer gate. The beast had a matted, silver-streaked coat and a deep wound in its side, as if it had been gored by something much larger. Though the night watch had driven it off, a wounded animal was dangerous, and the hunters knew that desperate things rarely left the area until they were dead.
The hunting team gathered near the exit under the first gray light of morning.
"Check your gear and line up!" Barik barked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Scars crossed his face and arms from past fights in the waste, and his harsh shout made the others stand straighter. He turned his glare toward the tunnel entrance. "Where are the other two?"
Near the doorway, Elder Faren and Elder Rhys stood watching the preparations. Rhys leaned heavily on her cane, her brow furrowed as she looked at the small group.
"This team is too small, Faren," Rhys whispered, her voice low. "We're sending a handful of hunters against a glass-back. If the rumors are true, that beast is larger than anything we have faced since the fall."
"We have no choice," Faren replied flatly, his hands tucked into his heavy robes. "The Main Gate is damaged from the attack last night. We must keep our main force here to secure the perimeter. Barik is experienced. He will track the blood early, kill it, and bring them back before the storm hits."
Rhys grunted, shaking her head. "I don't like the cousins joining this. They are boys chasing glory. They don't understand that out in the waste, one mistake can bury a whole line."
Right on cue, Joeren and Renzo came running down the corridor. The two cousins had pushed their way onto the hunt, using their grandfather's influence as an elder to gain field experience.
"You're late," Barik growled, stepping into their path. "The sun is already hitting the ridge. If you hold us back again, I will leave you in the bunkers."
"We're ready, Commander," Joeren said with a swaggering grin, holding his head high. He adjusted the heavy bolt-launcher on his shoulder. Kaylah and her team had spent a winter building the weapon from rusted pipes and a salvaged piston. Joeren had paid well for it in meat, but Kaylah knew its faults; the mechanism would jam if a single drop of dirt found its way inside.
"With this launcher, that wolf won't even make it past the first tree line," Renzo bragged, smiling wide as he patted his cousin's shoulder. "We'll pin it to the rock before it even sees us coming."
Beside Barik stood Dara, a thin outlander who had earned the tribe's trust after saving her team members multiple times. Her quick eyes scanned the cousins, entirely unamused by their boasting.
"The beast is wounded and desperate," Dara said quietly, her voice cutting through their laughter. "It won't stand still for your launcher."
Barik grunted, turning toward the heavy outer doors. "Listen to the tracker. We are only seven strong, the bare minimum for a hunt of this scale. The elders are keeping the main force behind to protect the gate. We track the blood early, we kill it, and we come back before it has time to heal. Clear?"
The hunters nodded, the joking fading instantly.
Kaylah tightened her grip on her pack, her gaze shifting to the heavy bolt-launcher in Joeren's hands. She knew its power, but she also knew how easily it could fail them out in the dirt.
The heavy doors groaned open, and the line moved out into the cold morning air.
The massive steel frames of Haven slowly slammed shut behind them, the heavy iron deadbolts sliding into place with a hollow thud. The sound cut off the last bit of warmth from the underground settlement, leaving the seven hunters alone on the rocky slope. As the group adjusted their packs and fell into a single-file line behind Barik, Dara stepped off the main path to inspect the perimeter fence.
The elders' instructions had been clear, carrying the weight of a promise: "Find it. A wounded beast is a threat to us all. Kill it, but protect yourselves first, and return home safe."
Dara repeated those words in her mind, trying to anchor herself with their certainty. But other, quieter expectations echoed beneath them—obligations she carried from people who had never set foot in Haven.
The ones who had sent her spoke constantly of duty and legacy, but she had never seen their faces soften with grief, nor had she ever heard them speak of mercy.
Dara had her own reasons for joining this hunt. It was not just to protect the walls they slept behind or the lives depending on this team's survival. Distant secrets and old warnings were pulling her further into the waste. Perhaps she was not here only to slay a beast.
Return home safe, the elders had said. But which home? The question lingered.
"Dara."
Barik's voice broke her thoughts. He walked slightly behind her, his gaze steady on the path ahead. "What do you think of this setup? This team was put together too fast. The Walkers should be the ones handling this—"
"I know," Dara cut him off. "Faren already explained it to me. They're out on a mission, and the rest had to stay behind to guard the gates." She adjusted her hood, glancing back at him. "Besides, we have you. With your blade, we have a fighting chance."
"Blades don't matter if the hands holding them are shaking," Barik muttered, shifting his grip on his weapon. "Joeren and Renzo are dead weight. Keep your distance from them out here. Observing is safer than belonging."
His words struck a chord, making her secret mission even harder to carry. She was supposed to stay detached from people she had started to care about.
The main gate of Haven creaked open. It was an uneven patchwork of scrap metal and salvaged beams, welded together into a crude but sturdy barricade. Deep dents marred its surface—scars from the wounded beast's violent assault the night before.
The team stepped out in silence. Most wore grim expressions, their boots crunching over ash and gravel as the reality of what awaited them pressed into every step. Only Joeren and Renzo moved with a swagger, strutting ahead like heroes in a tale not yet written. They shouted to no one in particular, their voices echoing off the cliff walls.
"We'll bring back the monster's head!" Joeren yelled, as if he were the group's leader.
Renzo raised his blade with a flourish. "Try not to fall behind!"
No one back at the gate cheered or reacted to the noise.
The air outside was dry and acrid, sharp against the throat. The wind carried a heavy chill, signaling that a storm was brewing on the horizon. It was coming soon.
Dara caught Barik's eye and gave him a subtle nod. He understood the silent message. They could not afford to linger out in the open. Barik signaled with his hand, beckoning the entire line to move forward faster.
Dara pulled her hood low, shielding her face, her eyes wide and sharp as she scanned every shadow. The air tasted of rust and wet earth—the typical scent of the ruins—but today it was laced with the beast's blood.
Her boots made no sound on the wet, cracked pavement. She moved with a practiced quiet that the hunters of Haven had never seen. The tracks were completely clear to her, even if the others struggled to see them. She knew they needed to move fast, but a wounded beast was highly unpredictable. They needed caution.
This beast was not fleeing; it was dragging itself forward. Each step was heavy and uneven, yet the trail showed no signs of panic.
The clear trail was disrupted; boot prints marred the dark blood markings on the ground.
"Hold it, you two!" Barik called out, his voice low and firm. "Your tracks are confusing Dara if you're that far ahead of us."
"The tracker is slowing us down," Joeren grumbled, kicking a loose stone into the dirt.
The two cousins were young and eager to prove their worth. They squinted into the rain, impatient to find the beast rather than waiting for Dara to check the ground. They could ignore the outlander, but they could not ignore Barik. His reputation as a warrior preceded him, and his loyalty had been proven in countless hunts since he joined the colony. When Barik glared back at them, the cousins stopped and begrudgingly waited for Dara to lead.
Dara ignored their muttering. She kept her eyes on the trail. The claw marks left on the stone were strange—thin streaks of a silver residue rather than normal blood.
She reached into her pocket, her fingers brushing the hidden lodestone. The small object buzzed softly against her skin with a rapid, frantic vibration.
"Barik, look at the residue," Dara said, stopping to point at the glowing marks on the stone. "This isn't a normal glass-back. What we are tracking has been altered by the impure silver of the waste."
Barik crouched beside her, his jaw tightening as he examined the silver streaks. "The energy has fused deep into its marrow. It's going to be heavier than the ones we usually hunt."
"It's worse than that," Dara warned in a low voice. "The silver is hardening the hair and skin along its spine into sharp, glass-like plates. Standard weapons won't be able to pierce its hide."
Barik rose to his feet, his face grim as he looked toward the narrow ravine ahead. "Then we don't strike the back. We look for a soft spot, or we don't swing at all."
A cold drizzle began, blanketing the rocks in a grey sheet. A faint, unnatural film shimmered on the stone under the wet air.
The team descended into a narrow stretch of the gorge, a tight ravine walled by shattered concrete and rusted metal. The path was a maze of dead ends and deep alcoves that smelled of damp rot and wet iron. Ahead lay a dark, jagged cave mouth, half-hidden by a tangle of exposed rebar.
Dara pointed toward the opening and looked at Barik. "It's in the cave," she whispered.
Barik raised his hand, halting the group. "Don't go in. We'll flush it out."
He ordered the men to collect dry wood from the brush and lit a small, smoky fire near the entrance. The hunters stood at the ready, watching the gray smoke drift into the darkness of the cave.
But the hours dragged on. The fire crackled and burned down to embers, but the beast did not move.
"This is a waste of time," Joeren sneered, lifting his bolt-launcher. "It's probably already dead inside. The prize is ours."
"Joeren, no!" Barik shouted.
The warning came too late. Fueled by impatience, the two cousins ignored the command and ran into the cave mouth. They had not gone ten feet when a guttural roar shook the stone walls. It was an explosive sound of rage.
***