The pack didn't understand the direction and relied on the path of the cosmos. The sun and the stars, which seemed to have a fixed direction, were their compass.
Hence, when Kael wanted to head into an unknown direction, the tribesmen couldn't help but feel skeptical.
To them, the South meant nothing. Just what made Kael decide to head South?
Even so, with growing skepticism and unrest, the pack followed the words of its leader.
The pack had faith in their leader, and Kael had faith in his god. Following the trail left by the light particles, Kael moved undeterred.
When questioned, he would only say, "We must keep moving. Trust me."
And they did, at least for now.
But Kael could sense their growing restlessness. He could tell that if something happened, he would lose the trust of his tribesmen.
Even so, stopping wasn't an option, nor was changing direction.
The forest thickened as the days passed, and the terrain became rugged. Even so, the scent of prey was scarce.
Every now and then, a rabbit-like creature or a flock of bird-beasts would drift into their path, but nothing big enough to sustain them. Their meager catches barely kept the children from crying out at night.
Due to the scarcity of food, the pack was getting even more restless. Whispers had begun to form behind his back.
"This path leads to death."
"We should've just followed the sun."
"I believe in Kael… but does Kael know where he's going?"
The north star pointed in a different direction, the sun rose in a different direction, and the direction they were headed had nothing in it.
Without proper guidance, these folks who believed in the natural guidance couldn't bring themselves to accept the direction Kael led them.
Even so, the two elders of the pack remained silent. However, their eyes told a different story. Even Thran found his loyalty wavering under the influence of hunger.
Ethan, who was observing the tribe from the chamber, couldn't help but pity Kael. Leaning forward with his knuckles tight against the edge of the screen, he muttered, "Hang in there, Kael."
Though he wanted to help Kael, he couldn't, for he was powerless.
The expedition continued, and the unrest in the pack continued to grow. Conflicts and arguments became a common sight as the pack struggled to secure food. Hope dwindled along the way.
Then, on the seventh day, just before dusk, a roar shattered the tense silence of the forest trail.
Thran, the sharp-eyed warrior, had ventured ahead to search for a water source. The roar had come from his direction.
"Thran!" Lira screamed as she heard a scream.
Her pointed ears twitched, and her expression was overcome with fear and concern, her complexion pale.
The scream was faint, but she could tell she had heard one.
Kael became alert just as he heard Lira's scream. He didn't waste time and darted in the direction of Thran.
In just two seconds, Kael's figure vanished, leaving the tribe members shocked. Where did Kael disappear? He was here just now.
The tribe members looked around them in horror and confusion, searching for Kael. But he was nowhere to be seen. Even the sharpest of vision couldn't locate him.
The folks had seen him rushing in the direction of Thran. But that's it.
Chaos broke in the pack, and panic surged forth. The tribe members looked around in panic, their hearts racing, their complexion pale.
Since Kael had decided to act, something must have happened. Before long, they heard a loud thud, adding more to their horror.
"What's that noise?"
"It came from the direction where Thran is…"
Murmurs spread through the crowd as the members of the pack gasped. The children started weeping while the adults consoled the weeping children.
Having heard the scream, Braka, who was nearest to Thran, had rushed to check.
Upon arriving, he skidded to a halt.
Before him loomed a colossal beast, taller than two grown men, its obsidian-black scales glinting in the fading light. Molten lines traced across its body like veins of fire. Its eyes glowed with a furnace-like heat, and jagged fangs jutted from its maw like crude, forged blades.
"Ravager!" Braka whispered, his throat dry.
A Scorchhide Ravager.
Braka's pupils dilated, his muscles coiling. Before one such beast had ravaged their village. It had taken the combined efforts of eight excellent warriors of the tribe, stronger than him, to drive the beast away.
And even then, they had barely managed to survive.
But now, one such beast was before him.
Braka's legs went numb for a moment, and his expression contorted in horror. For a moment, his body screamed for him to run.
But seeing Thran, whose legs had been crushed under its huge tail, wincing in pain, he subdued his fear. He clenched his fist tightly, and from within his claws emerged.
With a guttural snarl, thick bone-like claws burst from his knuckles with a fleshy snap, extending several inches.
The transformation was violent yet natural as if the beast inside had been waiting to be unleashed. The claws shimmered faintly under the light, their edges curved and pointed.
"COME HERE, YOU FUCKING BEAST!" Braka yelled, attempting to draw its attention to him.
He knew that he wasn't a match for the beast, and he knew what he was attempting was a suicide. Even so, he had to do it. He didn't have other options. He couldn't reach the beast in time. Hence, drawing its attention to him was the best decision.
The Ravager raised its head, fire glowing deep in its throat. Then it turned around to glare at Braka, who had challenged it.
The fierce molten glow in its eyes intensified as it glared at Braka.
The beast looked even more intimidating. Even just staring at it evoked a sense of fear in Braka. However, he gulped his saliva as he glared back at it.
The beast then lunged at him, attempting to shred him into pieces.