The return to the White Tiger village was not a diplomatic mission. It was a slaughter.
Vara and Carik walked out of the forest line just as the sun was setting, casting long, twisted shadows across the ground. Vara had cleaned herself up as best she could, walking tall and proud, her chin lifted in defiance. Carik walked beside her, still stark naked, covered in dried blood and dirt, looking like a demon summoned from the deep earth to punish the living.
The sentries at the gate—two young, terrified tigers—didn't even have time to scream. Carik moved with terrifying speed for a man of his size, snapping their spears and then their spines with sickening ease before tossing them into the bushes like discarded dolls.
They walked into the central clearing.
The remaining clan members froze. They stared at the nightmare duo. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of looming violence.
