By the time the first faint gray of dawn touched the sky, smoke still curled upward from the burned beast bodies. The scent clung to the tribe, heavy and bitter. Hunters sat with hollow eyes, staring at the wall as if waiting for the night to rise again and strike them.
The chief had not slept.
He stood near the wall, hands resting loosely at his sides, feeling the dull ache in every muscle. The warmth in his chest pulsed with slow rhythm. His breath came controlled, even in exhaustion.
The night attack had shown him something.
Not fully. Not clearly.
But enough to feel the edge of understanding.
Beasts did not attack without order.
Beasts did not test walls.
Beasts did not watch like that wolf.
The world moved in patterns he could almost see.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
The rival approached, breathing heavily as if he had run. "Hunters ready to speak with you."
"Yes," the chief said.
His legs felt heavy as he walked back toward the center of the tribe.
Children peeked from inside the huts. Women cleaned blood from the ground. Elders whispered with long tired faces. No one smiled. No one laughed. The world had shifted for them.
Now they knew fear fully.
The rival cleared his throat as they reached the fire pit. "Hunters gather by fire. They want hear plan for next attack."
The chief nodded.
When they reached the pit, hunters sat in a tight circle. Many carried fresh bruises. Some had bandages around their legs. The youngest stared at the ground, pale from lack of sleep.
His brother sat closest to the fire, poking it with a stick. "Fire smell like rotten things now," he muttered.
"Yes," the chief said.
The rival addressed the group. "We survived night. But beasts test wall again. And again."
One hunter clenched his fists. "What we do when wolf comes."
The chief spoke softly. "We not fight wolf now."
The hunters looked confused.
His brother frowned. "Why not. You strong. I strong. Rival strong. We kill small beasts. We kill wolf too."
"No," the chief said.
His brother scowled. "Always no."
The chief lowered himself to sit beside the fire. He picked up a stone and placed it on the dirt. "Wolf like this stone. Strong. Hard. Sharp."
He placed a small twig beside it. "We like this twig now."
Some hunters snorted. Some looked ashamed.
His brother rolled his eyes. "Then we become stone."
"Yes," the chief said. "But not now."
He pushed the stone slightly. It barely moved.
He pushed the twig. It slid easily.
"Strong fight when ready," the chief said. "Weak die when blind."
Silence settled over the hunters.
Slowly, they nodded.
Even his brother lowered his gaze.
The rival looked at him with quiet respect.
The older warrior appeared at the edge of the circle. He stood with arms crossed, face twisted in disgust.
"Listen to chief," he said mockingly. "Listen to fear. This tribe become prey because chief afraid to fight."
Hunters stiffened.
The older warrior stepped forward. "Wolf attack us because chief show fear. Beast test us because chief hide behind sticks. You think wall save you. Wall only slow death."
The tribe murmured nervously.
The older warrior continued. "If chief strong, he lead hunt. Kill beasts. Take forest back."
The rival took a step forward. "You talk big. You hide in hut while we fight."
"You know nothing," the older warrior spat. "Chief weak. Tribe weak under him."
The chief looked at the older warrior calmly. "You want lead."
The older warrior paused.
He had no intention of leading. Only of breaking what he feared.
But the tribe waited for his answer.
"Yes," he said finally. "I lead better."
"Then go hunt wolf now," the rival said.
The older warrior's mouth twisted. "I hunt when time right."
Coward.
The hunters saw it.
The women saw it.
Even the children saw it.
The older warrior stepped back, eyes narrowing into cold slits. He would not win with shouts. He would try something else.
He disappeared into the crowd.
The chief watched him go, not with anger, but with stillness. A dangerous stillness.
The older warrior was becoming the second threat inside the tribe.
The wolf was the first.
Later, the tribe began cleaning the remains of the attack. Hunters dragged beast bodies beyond the wall. Women washed the ground with water from the river. The blacksmith woman hammered new points into broken logs. Children gathered discarded sticks to sharpen into toys, pretending to fight monsters.
It was the most silent morning the tribe had ever lived.
The chief examined the beast corpses. Small ones. Twisted ones. Wrong ones. Their bones were too strong for their size. Their claws too sharp. Their eyes too bright even in death.
He crouched beside one of the corpses and placed a hand on its hide.
It felt warm still.
Alive in memory.
He closed his eyes.
Why did beasts change first.
Why did they grow faster.
Why did wolf watch instead of kill.
He breathed.
He felt his heart beat.
He felt the ground shake faintly.
He felt wind shift.
Patterns formed in his mind.
Loose ones.
Unclear ones.
But real.
His sister approached quietly. "You look like you think too much."
"Yes," the chief said.
"You scare me when you look like that."
"Why."
"You not here," she said softly. "Your mind go far away."
"World big," he said. "Must see far."
She knelt beside him. "But tribe here. See close too."
He looked at her and nodded.
She touched his arm gently, reminding him that the tribe depended on more than his strength or instincts. They needed his presence.
Near midday, the older warrior gathered several young hunters behind one of the huts. He spoke in whispers, but anger sharpened every syllable.
"Chief weak. He make tribe weak. You see beasts come. You see death. You see fear. He lead wrong way. He bring danger close."
One of the young hunters looked uncertain. "But chief save us."
"Save you from beasts he bring," the older warrior snapped.
Another hunter rubbed his bruised arm. "Wall help."
"Wall help for one night," the older warrior said. "Next time beasts bigger. Stronger. Wall break. Chief not know real fight. He know breathing and strange moves. That not save your life."
The older warrior leaned closer, eyes burning. "Join me. Learn real kill. Learn real hunt. I show you how tribe survive."
They hesitated.
Fear made them listen, but doubt made them slow.
The older warrior saw this and smiled. He would break the tribe piece by piece.
Meanwhile, the chief walked to the perimeter again. He studied the ground as if reading a story written in soil.
He followed prints.
Beasts had come from every direction. Their patterns made little sense.
Except one.
The wolf's prints were separate.
He traced them with his fingers.
One set.
Not many.
Close to wall.
Not attacking.
Watching.
The wolf moved like him.
The thought startled him.
But felt true.
He stood and faced the forest.
Leaves shifted. Birds remained silent. The trees swayed with slow breath.
He whispered, "You wait."
A faint breeze touched his face, cold and sharp.
The wolf did not answer.
Not yet.
In the afternoon, the rival trained a group of young hunters. He corrected their stance the way the chief had taught him. He grunted in annoyance when they moved wrong. He praised them when they improved.
The chief watched from the distance.
A small sense of pride touched him.
Humans learned.
Humans changed.
Humans grew.
But danger grew faster.
His brother approached with a bundle of sticks. "We hunt small beasts today. We need meat."
"No hunt alone," the chief said.
"Why not."
"Beasts move in packs now."
His brother sighed loudly. "World go crazy. Hard to think."
"Yes."
His brother tossed the sticks to the ground. "Then we kill crazy world."
The chief placed a hand on his shoulder. "Not kill world. Learn world."
His brother stared at him blankly, not understanding.
But one day he would.
Near evening, the sky darkened again. Clouds rolled in thick layers. The air held heavy weight.
Hunters gathered torches earlier than the night before.
The rival said, "We keep watch in shifts."
"Yes," the chief said.
"Tonight worse."
"Yes."
His sister approached with a nervous expression. "Many beasts come again."
"Yes."
"Will we live."
"Not know."
"But you think we live," she said, trying to hold onto hope.
The chief looked at the forest.
"I think we fight."
She nodded sadly.
The older warrior appeared again, a shadow between huts. He smirked at the chief, then vanished. He was planning something.
Danger outside and inside.
The chief breathed deeply.
He would face both.
As night fell, the tribe gathered near fires. Torches lit the wall. Hunters tightened grips on weapons.
The rival approached the chief. "You feel it."
"Yes."
"Something come."
"Yes."
His brother stepped beside them. "Good. I want fight."
The chief did not correct him this time. Some part of him felt the truth.
A fight was coming.
Not to test.
Not to scare.
To harm.
To break.
To push the tribe to its limit.
He nodded.
The hunters took their positions.
The wind shifted.
The grass bent.
The night breathed.
The forest waited.
And the chief felt something new in the air.
Something larger than small beasts.
Smaller than wolf.
Fast.
Hungry.
Near.
He lowered his stance.
The rival gripped his stick until his knuckles turned white.
His brother let out a low growl.
The first beast of the second night stepped from the grass.
And the world held its breath.