In the face of true starvation, suspicion meant nothing.
Caution meant nothing.
The moment the dried meat appeared, the survivors surged forward like starving wolves. Hands tore, teeth gnawed, throats trembled with suppressed, desperate sounds of relief.
They devoured.
Not caring who gave it.
Only that it existed.
Only that they could eat.
Goff did not join them.
The old hunter simply picked up a small strip and chewed slowly. His clouded eyes never left Colin—not for a single moment.
He recognized the meat.
Black-Haired Wild Boar.
Carefully smoked.
Not just preserved—but refined. The heavy, gamey stench was gone, replaced with a clean, rich aroma.
That kind of preparation required patience.
Skill.
Experience.
Not something a random survivor could manage.
Goff looked at Colin again.
The boy—no, the youth—stood calmly, watching the others feast. His expression did not change. No pride. No relief.
Only observation.
Like a hunter watching animals feed.
His stance was low, balanced. One hand rested lightly near the dagger at his waist, never straying far.
Ready.
Always ready.
This was not the weak, shrinking boy Goff remembered.
This—
Was something that had crawled out of hell.
—
"It's not safe here."
Colin's voice cut through the sounds of chewing.
Quiet.
But clear.
Every word reached its mark.
"Human patrols may return at any time. And these corpses…" his gaze flicked briefly over the ruins, "…will soon bring disease. And scavengers."
The survivors froze.
The brief comfort of food shattered instantly.
Fear returned.
"Then where do we go?" a one-armed youth demanded, desperation breaking through his voice. "If not here… where?"
"Follow me."
No hesitation.
No softness.
"I have a hideout in the Blackwood Forest. It's safer than this."
Murmurs spread.
The forest?
That place was death.
"You expect us to trust you?" The one-armed youth—Ralph—stepped forward, forcing bravado into his tone. "You just show up out of nowhere. Who knows what you want?"
Colin looked at him.
Just a glance.
Ralph's voice died in his throat.
Cold.
Empty.
Like staring into something already dead.
"Because the meat you ate was hunted by me," Colin said flatly. "And because I survived—while you hid here waiting to die."
The words struck harder than any blow.
No one could refute them.
"I won't force anyone," he continued. "Come if you want. Stay if you want."
Then he turned—
Not to the crowd.
But to Goff.
Only him.
The only one worth measuring.
Silence lingered.
Then Goff stood.
He walked to the little girl at his side—Lena—and rested a hand lightly on her head.
"We'll go with you," he said.
He understood.
Staying here was death.
Following this changed youth…
Might not be much better.
But it was something.
One by one, a few others rose.
Hesitant.
Uncertain.
In the end, seven.
The rest stayed behind.
Including Ralph.
Clinging to ruins instead of risking the unknown.
Colin didn't argue.
Didn't persuade.
Didn't care.
He simply nodded, lifted the iron pot onto his shoulder, and said—
"Stay close. Don't fall behind."
Then he turned and walked.
The others followed.
Into the forest.
—
The journey was harder than they imagined.
But what truly unsettled them—
Was Colin.
He moved through the forest like he belonged to it.
Like it whispered to him.
Hidden snakes were avoided before they were seen. Tracks—barely visible—were read instantly. Even the wind seemed to guide him, steering them away from unseen dangers.
They never crossed open ground.
Never made unnecessary noise.
Every step—
Deliberate.
Measured.
Precise.
Goff watched in silence.
A lifetime of hunting—
And he couldn't match this.
This wasn't just experience.
It was instinct sharpened by something else.
Something deeper.
—
"Stop."
Colin's hand rose.
Everyone froze.
He pointed.
A vine lay across the ground.
Ordinary.
Unremarkable.
"Don't touch it," he said. "Noose Vine. It'll bind your legs the moment you step on it. The thorns carry paralytic toxin."
Goff's eyes narrowed.
He hadn't seen it.
Not at all.
Cold sweat crept down the others' backs.
Trust grew—
Quietly.
Firmly.
—
At last, they reached the hollow tree.
"This is it."
Colin pushed aside the ferns.
The space inside was crude—but dry. Hidden. Safe enough.
Remnants of herbs still lingered where he had once treated himself.
He didn't pause.
"Lena, help process the meat."
"Goff, keep watch. Gather firewood."
Orders.
Clear.
Efficient.
No hesitation.
No one questioned him.
They moved.
Immediately.
Colin turned away, already working.
He set traps around the perimeter—simple, but effective. Vines stretched between trees, linked to hollow bones filled with pebbles. A single disturbance would trigger noise.
Then camouflage.
Mud.
Rotting leaves.
Layer by layer, the entrance vanished into the forest.
From the outside—
It was nothing.
Goff watched it all.
Silent.
Stunned.
This wasn't hunting anymore.
This was survival—
Refined into a system.
—
By evening, a fire burned softly inside the hollow.
The iron pot simmered.
Rabbit meat and roots boiled together, filling the air with warmth and scent.
For the first time since the massacre—
They felt something close to safety.
Lena held her bowl carefully, sipping in small gulps. Her wide eyes drifted toward Colin, who sat in the corner, methodically wiping his dagger clean.
In her gaze—
He was no longer the boy others bullied.
He was…
Reliable.
—
"From today on, we follow rules."
Colin's voice broke the fragile peace.
All eyes turned to him.
"First. Food is shared equally. Until we secure a steady source, nothing is wasted."
"Second. No one leaves more than fifty paces from here without permission. Waste is buried."
"Third—"
His eyes sharpened.
"—you obey my orders. Always."
Silence followed.
No resistance.
No challenge.
In this world—
Strength made law.
And Colin had proven himself.
But as he looked at them—
He felt nothing like pride.
Seven people.
In a forest filled with death.
They were a candle in the wind.
Fragile.
Temporary.
Not enough.
His gaze lifted—
Toward the deeper forest.
Dark.
Unknown.
Calling.
Somewhere in that darkness…
Was what he needed.
A place to grow stronger.
A place to stop running.
And when he found it—
He would return.
Not as prey.
But as the hunter.