The broth tasted like wild game and something bitter—likely the shimmer-leaves the shaman had used on his wounds. Robin swallowed it down, the heat spreading from his chest to his fingertips. He could feel the eyes of the silver-haired woman on him, watching the way his throat moved as he drank.
"Slowly," Lunara warned, her voice dropping that authoritative edge for just a second. "Your stomach isn't used to the vitality in our food. Eat too fast, and you'll lose it all over my furs, and then I'll have to make you scrub them in the river."
Robin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaning back into the softness of the bedding. "I think I can manage to keep it down. Thanks. For the food, and for... well, everything."
Lunara didn't offer a 'you're welcome.' She simply stood, her tall, athletic frame casting a long shadow across the yurt. She moved to a wooden rack where several spears and bone-handled knives were mounted. "Don't thank me yet. Being saved by a Lunawolf is often more taxing than being eaten by a Sable-claw. At least the beast is quick."
She turned back to him, her golden eyes scanning his face. "Tomorrow at dawn, you meet my father properly. And the tribe. You aren't just a guest, Robin. You're a curiosity. In the Lunawolf Clan, everyone has a place. The hunters hunt. The builders build. The elders advise. Those without a place... they are a drain on the pack's spirit."
"And what's my place?" Robin asked, his voice a bit steadier now.
"That's what we're going to find out. Sleep. You'll need your strength."
She didn't leave the yurt. Instead, she moved to a smaller pile of furs on the opposite side of the hearth. She didn't disrobe; she simply unbuckled her chest-plate, laying it carefully beside her spear, and lay down. Robin watched the slow, rhythmic flick of her tail as she settled in. It was a bizarre, surreal sight—a powerful warrior woman who could snap his neck with one hand, sleeping ten feet away from him.
[BOND LEVEL: LUNARA 2.0% (INTERESTED OBSERVER)]
[CURRENT OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE THE MORNING ASSEMBLY.]
Robin didn't need an alarm clock. The sound of a deep, resonant horn blowing through the camp woke him. It was a low, vibrating note that seemed to rattle his teeth.
He sat up, his body feeling surprisingly limber. The wounds on his side had closed into thin, pink scars—a feat of healing that should have taken weeks back on Earth.
Lunara was already up. She was standing in the center of the yurt, tightening the leather straps on her forearms. She looked at him over her shoulder. "Get up. Put these on."
She tossed a bundle of clothes onto the bed. They were made of a soft, sueded leather, much more durable than his shredded windbreaker. There was a tunic, trousers, and a pair of boots made from a dark, pebbled hide.
"My old hunting gear from when I was a yearling," she said, her ears twitching. "You're about the same size I was then. It'll have to do."
Robin changed quickly, feeling a bit self-conscious, though Lunara didn't seem to care. To her, he was clearly just a biological entity that needed covering. The leather was warm and smelled of woodsmoke.
"Follow me. And Robin?" She paused at the tent flap, her expression serious. "Keep your head down. Don't speak unless my father speaks to you. My people are... skeptical of anything that doesn't have claws."
They stepped out of the yurt, and Robin's breath hitched.
The village was a sprawling circle of massive tents and wooden structures built into the roots of the gargantuan trees. In the center was a wide, packed-earth plaza. Hundreds of wolf-kin were moving about. Some were huge, towering over seven feet with thick, grey fur covering their shoulders; others were leaner, more like Lunara, with silver or brown coats. Pups tumbled in the dirt, growling playfully, while elders sat on carved stumps, smoking long pipes that let out blue-tinted smoke.
The moment Robin appeared, the bustling noise died down.
A hundred pairs of golden, amber, and blue eyes turned toward him. The air grew heavy with a collective scent—the musk of predators. Robin felt his legs want to shake, but he forced himself to stand straight. He wasn't on a city street anymore. He was in a den of wolves.
"Make way for the Alpha's blood!" Lunara called out, her voice carrying across the plaza.
The crowd parted. At the far end of the plaza, sitting on a throne carved from the skull of some ancient, colossal beast, was the Chief.
Fenris was a mountain of a man. His fur was a grizzled charcoal grey, and he bore scars across his chest that looked like they had been earned in battles against gods. He held a massive greataxe across his knees.
Lunara walked to the center of the plaza and knelt. Robin followed her lead, his knees hitting the hard earth.
"Father," Lunara said. "The stranger is recovered."
Fenris leaned forward, his eyes like two burning coals. "The star-fall. He looks fragile, Lunara. Like a reed in a storm. Why have we brought this fragility into our heart?"
"He has a spirit that does not match his frame," Lunara replied. "He faced the Sable-claws with a stone. He did not run."
A murmur went through the crowd. A tall, male warrior with a jagged scar across his eye stepped forward, his lip curling into a sneer. "Spirit doesn't fill bellies, Lunara. He will eat our meat and offer nothing in return. He cannot hunt. He cannot track. He is a burden."
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: NEW CHALLENGE DETECTED]
[THE SKEPTICISM OF THE PACK]
[OBJECTIVE: PROVE YOUR UTILITY TO CHIEF FENRIS.]
Robin felt a surge of adrenaline. He knew he couldn't outfight these people, but the System flickered in his vision, showing him something he hadn't noticed before: a small icon labeled [Observation].
"I can work," Robin said, his voice ringing out clearer than he expected.
Fenris raised an eyebrow. The crowd went silent. "You speak out of turn, human."
"I apologize, Great Chief," Robin said, remembering Lunara's warning but pushing past it. "I know I don't have your strength. But I have eyes that see things differently. Give me a task. Any task. If I fail, you can cast me out."
Lunara looked at him, her tail twitching in what might have been surprise or irritation.
Fenris rumbled a low laugh. "Any task? Very well. The South Fence was damaged in the boar attack. The leather bindings are fraying, and the iron-oak posts are shifting. Go with Lunara. Fix the breach before sundown. If the fence is not secure, you will sleep outside it tonight."
The South Fence was less of a fence and more of a massive fortification made of 'iron-oak'—trees that were as hard as stone and twice as heavy.
Lunara walked in silence for a long time as they headed toward the edge of the territory. When they were finally out of earshot of the village, she stopped and turned on him. She didn't look angry; she looked perplexed.
"You have a big mouth for someone who nearly died to a glorified dog three days ago," she said, though her ears weren't flattened. "Do you even know how to bind iron-oak? It requires a specific knot-work with sinew that takes years to master."
"I don't," Robin admitted. "But the 'fence' isn't just about the knots, is it? It's about the foundation."
[SYSTEM PING: QUEST ACTIVE - REPAIR THE SOUTH BREACH]
[REWARD: +5% BOND WITH LUNARA, +10 TRIBE REPUTATION]
When they arrived, the damage was worse than described. A section of the massive wooden pillars had tilted, creating a gap large enough for a predator to squeeze through. Several of the thick leather straps holding the pillars together had snapped under the weight of a falling tree.
Lunara began to heave at one of the pillars, her muscles bulging, her breath hitching with the effort. Even with her incredible strength, the iron-oak barely budged. It was anchored in soft, muddy clay that had been loosened by the recent rains.
"It's no use," she grunted, stepping back and wiping sweat from her brow. "The ground is too soft. Even if I pull it straight, it will just slide back once I let go."
Robin walked up to the pillar, looking at the base. He noticed the way the water was pooling. "We don't need to just pull it. We need to leverage it."
"Leverage?" Lunara tilted her head, her silver hair falling over her shoulder.
Robin looked around. He saw a fallen log nearby—long, sturdy, and relatively dry. "If we use that log as a fulcrum and a long branch as a lever, we can lift the base while we pack stone into the gap. We don't need to fight the weight; we need to make the earth do the work."
Lunara watched him as he scrambled around, gathering smaller stones and positioning the log. She looked skeptical, but she didn't stop him.
"Here," Robin said, pointing to the end of a long, thick branch he'd wedged under the pillar. "You're the strength. Push down on this side while I shove the stones into the hole."
Lunara gripped the branch. "If this snaps and hits me, Robin, I will throw you into the river."
"It won't snap. Just... push."
She leaned her weight into it. The branch groaned, but the principle of the lever was universal. The massive iron-oak pillar, weighing thousands of pounds, began to rise.
"It's... it's moving," Lunara whispered, her eyes wide. "It's so light."
"Keep it there!" Robin yelled, diving toward the base. He began jamming flat river stones into the muck, creating a solid, reinforced foundation. He worked frantically, his hands getting coated in mud and grit, his breath coming in short bursts.
After an hour of back-breaking labor, they moved to the next pillar. Then the next.
As the sun—the pale silver one—began to dip behind the mountains, the fence stood straighter and firmer than it had in years. The pillars were locked into stone beds, and Robin had used his knowledge of basic scouting knots to double-bind the leather straps.
Lunara stood back, looking at the work. She looked at the fence, then at Robin's mud-stained face and shaking hands.
"You didn't use magic," she said quietly. "You just... used the world."
"Physics," Robin muttered, wiping his brow. "It's a different kind of magic where I'm from."
[SYSTEM ALERT: QUEST SUCCESS!]
[BOND LEVEL INCREASE: LUNARA 7%]
[REWARD: SKILL UNLOCKED - 'BASIC ARCHITECTURE']
[INFLUENCE GAINED: THE PACK IS WATCHING.]
Lunara walked over to him. She didn't say anything at first. She reached out and plucked a piece of mud from his cheek. Her touch was lingering, her thumb brushing against his skin.
"You're a strange creature, Robin," she said, her voice soft. "My people value the arm that swings the axe. We rarely think about the hand that builds the wall. But tonight, you saved us a week of labor."
She turned away, but not before Robin saw the slight wag of her tail. "Come on. We have to show my father. And then, we eat. You've earned more than just broth tonight."
They walked back to the village as the crimson moon rose, casting a bloody glow over the forest. The atmosphere in the camp had shifted. As they passed the warriors' fires, the murmurs weren't quite as sharp.
"Did you see the South Fence?" one hunter asked another. "The human and the Princess straightened the iron-oaks. They didn't even use the kodo-beasts to pull."
They reached the Chief's yurt. Fenris was waiting outside, his massive arms crossed. He looked at the mud on Robin, then at the satisfied expression on his daughter's face.
"The fence stands," Fenris rumbled. "I sent a scout. He says the foundations are stone-set. How?"
"He has a clever mind, Father," Lunara said, stepping forward. "He sees the way things balance. He is not a hunter, but he is a builder."
Fenris grunted, a sound like grinding rocks. "A builder is useful. But a builder who cannot defend his walls is just a target. For now, he stays. He will continue to work under Lunara's supervision."
He turned to go back inside, then paused. "And Robin?"
"Yes, Chief?"
"Wash yourself. You smell like a swamp. It's offending the pups."
Robin let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He looked at Lunara, who was watching him with a faint, amused smile.
"You did well," she said. "But don't get comfortable. Tomorrow, we go to the Elder's Grove. The shaman needs someone with 'clever eyes' to help identify a blight that's killing the spirit-trees. And the Grove is... less safe than the fence."
"Is there ever a safe place here?" Robin asked with a wry smile.
Lunara stepped closer, her height making him tilt his head back. She leaned in, her ears brushing against his hair. "Safe is boring, Robin. Don't you think?"
She turned and headed toward her yurt, her tail flicking playfully. Robin followed, his mind already racing. He had survived the first day, and his bond with Lunara was growing. But as he looked out at the dark forest, he saw a pair of glowing eyes watching the village from the shadows—eyes that didn't belong to a wolf.
Something was coming. And it didn't care about his fences