The smell of cooking meat pulled Arin through the village. She followed the scent between rows of huts until she reached the center, where fires burned bright against the darkening sky. The massive creature lay across several fire pits, its meat slowly turning golden brown.
A young warrior tended the nearest pit, flipping meat with a long stick. A fresh scar ran down his jaw, still pink and healing. He glanced up as she approached.
"First time seeing a Direbear up close?"
Arin stopped. She could understand him perfectly. The words should have been foreign, but they translated themselves automatically in her mind.
Her stomach growled loud enough to make her wince. She hadn't eaten all day, and the smell made it worse. Moving closer to the fires, she studied what remained of the creature. Muscles bunched thick beneath blue-tinged hide. Claws longer than her hand. Teeth that could tear through stone.
'They hunt these things regularly?'
The hunt leader's voice carried over the crackling fires. "Another successful hunt! The spirits blessed us with this mighty beast!"
Warriors emerged from between the huts. Some had bandages wrapped around limbs, others showed fresh bruises across their faces, but they all moved with easy confidence. They gathered in small groups around the fires, already trading stories.
"The chief's not wrong about the spirits helping." The young warrior tested a piece of meat with his knife. "That bear almost got us. Would've too, if Karak hadn't stepped in."
The crowd split apart. The warrior beside her quickly moved back, lowering his head in deference.
'This must be Karak.'
A bulky warrior jumped up from his spot by the fire, waving a chunk of meat. "You should've seen it! Right when the bear charged, I got my spear in its side." He jabbed his free hand forward, demonstrating. "Thing nearly took my head off, but I rolled away just in time."
"Bah, lucky strike." A scarred warrior sitting across the fire pit snorted. He pushed up his sleeve, revealing a fresh wound that ran from wrist to elbow. "Try getting this close to those claws. Felt the wind from its swipe brush my face."
The firelight made the injury look deeper than it probably was. Other warriors crowded around to examine it, some whistling in appreciation.
"How'd you get away?" A younger hunter leaned forward, eyes wide with admiration.
"Pure instinct." The scarred warrior grinned. "Dropped flat on my back. Claws went right over me." He mimed falling backward, drawing laughs from the group.
Arin shifted closer, curious despite herself. Each warrior wore marks from past hunts—some old and white, others still healing. They displayed them openly, each scar accompanied by its own tale of survival.
"That's nothing." Another hunter pulled down his collar, revealing three parallel lines across his chest. "Got these from last season's hunt. Direbear caught me sleeping during watch."
"Yeah, and you screamed like a child when it happened!" Someone called out, causing more laughter to ripple through the group.
A deep voice cut through the chatter. "Save your bragging for after the meat's distributed."
The warriors quickly settled down, their attention turning to the hunt leader. But Arin noticed they didn't stop grinning, still riding high on their victory.
The hunt leader called out names, his voice carrying across the gathering. Warriors stepped forward one by one, receiving cuts of meat sized according to their role in the hunt. Arin watched from the edge, noting how the portions grew smaller with each group called.
Her own portion came last—a modest cut, but still enough to satisfy her empty stomach. She found a log near the edge of the firelight and sat down, letting the shadows hide her from curious eyes.
The meat tasted different from anything she'd tried before. Tough and wild, carrying the essence of the beast it came from. She chewed slowly, watching the hunters work. Their movements were efficient and practiced as they carved up what remained of the Direbear.
"Have you ever seen one up close?"
Arin turned to find a young girl perched on the other end of the log, clutching a wooden toy. Her curly hair caught the firelight, giving it an almost copper glow.
"The Direbear? No, not until today."
The girl nodded seriously, then held up her toy—a crude carving of a warrior. "I'm going to hunt them when I grow up. Watch!" She made the figure leap and spin through the air. "Take that, mighty beast!"
"Mira, don't bother the stranger." A woman appeared behind them, though her stern tone didn't match her gentle smile.
"But Mama, I'm showing her my warrior!" Mira bounced on the log.
The woman's laugh was soft. "Just like you'll be someday, little one. The strongest warrior our tribe has ever seen."
A crash near the fire pit snapped her attention away. Plates clattered to the ground as two men squared off, their shadows stretching long against the flames.
"Back off, Tor!" A bearded warrior shoved forward, pointing at the meat clutched in Tor's grip. "You've taken more than your share!"
Tor's lips pulled back. "I tracked the beast for three days! This portion insults my skill." He raised the meat higher, out of reach.
The crowd pulled back, forming a circle around the two men. No one stepped in to stop them. Even the hunt leader watched silently, arms crossed over his chest.
"The hunt leader decides portions, not you!" The bearded man lunged forward.
Tor sidestepped, letting the larger man stumble past. The bearded warrior recovered quickly, throwing a wild punch. Tor ducked under it, driving his elbow up into the man's ribs. A sharp crack echoed across the clearing.
Arin watched carefully, analyzing their movements. Tor was clearly the more skilled fighter—his movements swift and economical. His opponent, while larger and stronger, was slower and clumsier in his attacks.
The bearded warrior threw another wild swing. Tor ducked again, this time driving his fist into the man's kidney. As he landed the blow, something caught Arin's attention.
Lines on Tor's arms—tattoos she hadn't noticed before—began to shine with a soft silver light.
'What the...'
She leaned forward, squinting through the firelight. The glow pulsed brighter with each strike Tor landed. His moves got faster, more powerful. The big warrior couldn't keep up anymore.
The glow intensified as the fight reached its peak. Tor's tattoos blazed bright as he delivered a final devastating strike to his opponent's jaw. The larger man crumpled to the ground, unconscious, and the crowd erupted in cheers.
Tor stood victorious, blood trickling from a cut above his eye, but grinning fiercely as he basked in his win.
"The spirits favor Tor!"
"Did you see that light?"
"A true warrior!"
Arin couldn't take her eyes off those glowing marks. 'There's more to these people than just hunting skill. But what kind of power makes tattoos shine?'
The crowd's chants echoed off the huts, filling the village center with noise. Tor stood in the middle of it all, chest heaving. The silver light from his tattoos faded pulse by pulse until only black lines remained on his skin.
The hunt leader approached Tor, handing him an extra portion of meat with a nod of respect. The gesture seemed to restore order to the feast. The excitement gradually died down as people returned to their meals.
As the feast began to wind down, Arin decided to explore the village further before retiring. She walked slowly through the rows of huts, taking in every detail of her surroundings. In the flickering firelight, she could see intricate carvings on many of the structures, depicting scenes of hunts and battles with strange creatures. Some of the carvings seemed to glow faintly, pulsing with energy that made her skin tingle.
She paused in front of one particularly detailed carving, tracing her fingers over the rough wood. It depicted a group of warriors facing off against a creature that looked like a cross between a bear and a wolf, but far larger than either.
'The Direbear.'
The carving seemed to come alive under her touch. For a moment, she could almost hear the roars of the beast and the shouts of the hunters.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
The voice made her jump. Arin turned to find an elderly man, his face lined with deep wrinkles and his hair white as snow. He leaned on a gnarled wooden staff, his eyes bright and knowing.
"It's incredible. I can almost see it happening."
The old man chuckled, a warm, raspy sound. "The carvings have that effect. They keep our history alive, reminding us of the strength and courage of our ancestors."
He stepped forward to stand beside her, his hand reaching out to trace the lines of the carving. "Each mark tells a story. A story of bravery, of sacrifice, of the bond between our people and the spirits that guide us."
Arin studied the carving more closely, taking in the unique features and expressions of each warrior. She could see the determination in their eyes, the tension in their muscles as they faced the beast.
"Thank you for sharing this with me."
The elder returned her smile, his eyes crinkling with warmth. He nodded once, then turned and walked away, his staff tapping against the packed earth.
Eventually, her wanderings brought her back to the orphan's shelter. She entered quietly, not wanting to disturb the children who were already asleep. She found a vacant spot in a corner and settled down, letting the soft murmur of breathing and the crackle of the dying fire wash over her.
As she lay there, staring up at the thatched roof, Arin's mind buzzed with thoughts and impressions from the day.
The sounds of the night washed over her. The chirping of insects, the distant howls of wild animals, the soft snores of the sleeping children. She listened intently, finding them oddly comforting, as if some part of her had always known this world.
Slowly, her eyes grew heavy. The exhaustion of the day finally caught up with her, pulling her down into darkness.