The first beast stepped from the grass with slow, padded steps that barely disturbed the earth. Its body was lean, twisted like the ones before, but larger. Its eyes glowed with a deeper yellow, brighter than torchlight.
The tribe froze.
Hunters held their sticks tighter. The rival inhaled sharply. The chief lowered his stance slightly, feeling his heartbeat match the rhythm of the night.
Two more beasts emerged behind the first.
Then three.
Then more.
They moved strangely.
Not in the wild, scattered way of last night's pack.
Not in the frantic hunger of ordinary predators.
Their steps matched each other. Their breathing seemed unified. Their eyes reflected the same cold instinct.
The forest had taught them something.
The beasts moved together.
The chief whispered, "They learn."
His brother cracked his knuckles. "Good. I want harder fight."
The rival frowned. "Not good. This different."
The older warrior stood at the back of the tribe, half hidden in shadow. His eyes gleamed with something like satisfaction.
The beasts spread out, forming a loose arc around the wall. Their movements slow. Deliberate. Testing. They paced just outside the glow of the torches.
The chief raised his hand.
"Wait."
Hunters held their breath.
The beasts continued their slow pacing.
The chief watched their feet. Their shoulders. The way muscles shifted under hide. The way their eyes tracked movement around the camp.
Patterns.
Patterns he had not seen yesterday.
Patterns he had not known to look for.
Patterns that told him these beasts were not acting on instinct alone.
Something guided them.
Something pushed them.
The older warrior muttered loudly enough for several hunters to hear. "See. Chief make beasts smart."
The rival whipped his head toward him. "Shut mouth or I shut it for you."
But the older warrior only backed away, smirking.
The chief ignored him.
The beasts stopped pacing.
Every head turned toward the wall.
His chest tightened.
"They test again," the chief said softly.
"Then fight," his brother growled.
"No," the chief said. "Wait."
The rival nodded.
The beasts crouched low.
The grass shivered around them.
The torches flickered as if the night exhaled.
One beast lunged.
The hunters braced.
But it did not strike the wall.
It leaped sideways, drawing eyes with it.
A second beast slammed into the opposite side of the wall.
Then a third leaped high, aiming to clear the pointed tops.
The rival shouted. "They split us."
The chief moved first.
He sprinted to the left, where two beasts charged together. His feet struck the ground with newfound strength. His bones vibrated with power he did not fully understand.
He was moving faster.
Much faster.
He reached the wall in seconds. A beast was already halfway up, claws digging into the logs.
He thrust his stick forward, striking the beast under the jaw.
The creature's head snapped back. It fell and hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Another beast lunged at him.
He ducked, feeling the wind of its breath pass over his shoulder. His body moved on its own, finding balance with ease. He struck the beast's ribs with precise force.
A loud crack echoed.
The beast collapsed.
His brother roared and charged toward two beasts attacking the right side. His swings were wild but powerful, sending one beast rolling into the grass.
The rival kicked a beast away from a weak point in the wall, then slammed his stick down on its spine.
The hunters fought in scattered bursts of panic and bravery.
But the beasts moved with increasing coordination. One would feint. Another would attack from the opposite angle. A third would circle behind.
The chief saw it all.
Patterns everywhere.
Patterns that meant death if not broken.
He sprinted toward the center, where two beasts jumped together, one high and one low. A hunter froze, unable to decide which to block.
The chief reached him in time.
He smashed his stick into the lower beast's skull. Then he used his shoulder to block the leap of the second beast, letting it crash into him.
Pain shot through his body.
But something inside him held firm.
He grabbed the beast's jaw with both hands and twisted. Bone cracked. The beast fell limp.
The hunter stared at him in shock. "Chief move like fire."
"Move," the chief said. "Fight."
The hunter nodded quickly and ran to reinforce the wall.
The older warrior, still hiding behind huts, clenched his fists. He hated how the tribe watched the chief now. With respect. With awe. With trust.
The beasts regrouped.
They shifted positions again.
Three stood near the left flank.
Four near the right.
Two paced directly ahead.
The chief inhaled.
"They change. They adapt."
His brother shouted, "Then kill faster."
"No," the chief said. "Kill smarter."
His brother rolled his eyes, but obeyed.
The rival moved beside the chief. "What you see."
The chief pointed to the ground. "Footprints. Lines. They follow lines. Move in pattern."
The rival squinted. "Not see."
"Watch shoulders. Watch breath. They move same."
The rival widened his eyes. "They hunt together."
"Yes."
The beasts began creeping forward again.
The chief felt something ignite inside him.
A warmth.
A spark.
A shift.
The world sharpened.
Edges became clearer.
Sounds became distinct.
Breath became deeper.
He felt strength rise from his legs into his chest, then flow into his arms.
Body Forging.
Middle Stage.
Early level.
He did not understand the words yet.
But his body understood the change.
He tightened his grip on his stick.
"Fight together," he said.
Hunters nodded.
"Not chase. Hold line."
They nodded again.
"Strike after beast move. Not before."
They hesitated, but nodded.
"Move with breath."
The rival smiled faintly. "You speak strange again."
"Learn fast," the chief said.
The beasts charged.
This time, the tribe did not break.
They formed two lines.
The rival and the brother held the front.
The blacksmith woman and two elders held the middle.
Young hunters held the back with torches.
The beasts collided with the wall.
One broke through a weak point and leapt toward a child hiding nearby.
The chief was already moving.
He crossed the distance in a heartbeat. The world slowed around him. His body felt light. His breath aligned with his movement. He swung the stick upward, catching the beast mid leap.
The impact cracked through its ribs.
The beast flew back and did not rise again.
The child screamed and ran to hide.
More beasts broke through.
Hunters met them with renewed focus.
The rival struck with precision, guided by what he had learned from the chief.
The brother fought like a storm, reckless but deadly.
The blacksmith woman stabbed a beast with a sharpened stick, surprising everyone with her strength.
The older warrior watched with narrowed eyes, seeing the tribe follow the chief. Seeing them believe.
Seeing himself fade.
The chief fought like he had never fought before.
He moved between hunters.
He blocked attacks before they landed.
He guided the tribe with simple words.
He placed himself between danger and the weak.
The beasts fell one by one.
Five.
Seven.
Nine.
Their bodies piled near the wall.
The last beast fled into the grass, limping and bleeding.
The tribe stood panting.
No one cheered.
No one felt victorious.
But they lived.
The rival dropped to one knee, exhausted. "This not normal. They think like us."
"No," the chief said softly. "They think like wolf."
His brother wiped sweat from his face. "Wolf teach them."
"Yes."
The sister approached, trembling. "Will wolf come next."
"Not tonight," the chief said.
"How you know."
He looked at the forest.
He felt the wolf's presence far away.
Watching.
Learning.
Waiting.
"It not ready," he said.
The older warrior stepped out of the shadows at that moment. He paced forward slowly, eyes gleaming with hatred.
"Two nights of beasts," he said. "Two nights of danger. Tribe bleed. Tribe fear. All because of chief."
Hunters turned tired eyes toward him.
The older warrior jabbed a finger toward the chief. "He bring danger. He call beasts. He make tribe weak."
The rival took a threatening step forward. "One more word."
But the chief raised a hand.
"No," he said.
He faced the older warrior directly.
"You fear world. I do not," the chief said.
"You fear change. I learn it."
"You talk of strength. But when beasts come, you hide."
The tribe murmured.
The older warrior's face twisted into an ugly snarl.
"You think you see world," he spat. "But world crush you. Wolf crush you. Tribe die because you dream too big."
The chief stepped closer.
His voice was low.
Steady.
Certain.
"Then leave."
The older warrior blinked, stunned.
"Leave tribe," the chief said. "Go where beasts not follow you."
The older warrior's mouth opened and closed.
He could not leave.
He would die alone.
He needed the tribe.
He needed to break the tribe from within.
"You weak leader," he hissed. "One day tribe see truth."
He stormed away into the dark.
The chief watched him go.
The rival whispered, "He dangerous."
"Yes," the chief said.
His sister asked, "What happen next."
The chief looked at the forest.
Something whispered beyond the trees.
Winds shifted.
Grass bent.
Night breathed.
"Tomorrow," he said, "wolf prepare."
His brother grinned, but the chief did not.
Because the forest had begun moving as one.
And soon, humanity would face something far worse than small beasts.
The world was waking.
And watching.