The woven door sealed, muting the chaos outside. Elara stood frozen in the center of the room. Adrenaline still hummed in her veins like a trapped insect.
The challenging roars had ceased abruptly. An uneasy quiet now blanketed the settlement. This silence felt more ominous than the previous noise.
She slowly lowered herself onto the bed of furs. Her body ached with a deep, unfamiliar fatigue. The air remained thick with the scent of alien pollen and tension.
Time became difficult to measure. The light through the walls faded from amber to deep blue. One of the twin suns had clearly set.
The forest's nocturnal chorus began. It was a symphony of shrieks, chirps, and resonant hoots. The sounds were far more active than any Earth night.
A low scrape sounded at the door. Elara's heart leapt into her throat. The organic lock disengaged with its soft, wet click.
Kaelen slipped inside. He moved with a predator's silent grace. The door closed seamlessly behind him.
He carried a wooden platter. On it were rough chunks of dark meat and strange, iridescent fruits. The meat was raw, glistening under the faint bioluminescent moss light.
He placed the platter on the floor near her. He then sat back on his haunches, observing her. He seemed uninjured, but his energy was different.
"Dinnertime," he stated simply. He gestured toward the food with a claw-tipped finger.
Elara stared at the offering. The metallic scent of blood reached her nostrils. Her stomach turned, but not from hunger.
"I can't eat that," she said, her voice quiet but firm. She met his gaze. "It's raw."
Kaelen blinked slowly. His head tilted in genuine confusion. "It's fresh. Killed it myself this afternoon. Best part of the catch."
"It needs to be cooked," Elara explained, pushing the platter gently away with her foot. "My body can't process it like this. I'll get sick."
"Cooked?" he repeated, as if the word was absurd. "You mean, burn it? Why would you ruin good meat?"
"To kill parasites. To break down proteins," she said, invoking science as a shield. "It's how my people eat."
Kaelen let out a short, incredulous huff. He picked up a piece of the meat himself. He tore into it with obvious relish.
"Your people are missing out," he said between bites. "This is life. Straight from the hunt. Cooking steals the essence."
He watched her as he ate. His eyes reflected the dim light. She wrapped her arms around her knees, feeling the vast distance between their realities.
"Suit yourself," he said, finishing his piece. He nudged the platter back toward her with his foot. "The fruits won't fight you. They're sweet."
Hesitantly, Elara picked up one of the iridescent orbs. Its skin was smooth and cool. She took a small bite. A flavor like honey and citrus exploded on her tongue.
It was astonishing. She couldn't help but take another, larger bite. Energy seemed to seep into her tired limbs.
A faint, approving rumble came from Kaelen. "See? Not all of our food is out to get you."
For a few minutes, only the sounds of the night forest filled the space. Elara ate two more fruits, avoiding the meat entirely. Kaelen finished the rest.
"What happened?" she finally asked, unable to bear the silence. "With the scouts."
Kaelen leaned back, wiping his hands on his thighs. "Stone-Hoof morons. They caught your scent on the wind. Came to see if the rumors were true."
"And?" Elara pressed.
"And they saw," he said with a sharp grin. "I dropped down, gave their leader a little show. Told him if he wanted a closer look, he could challenge me on the branch. He declined."
His tone was dismissive, but Elara heard the underlying tension. "Will they be back?"
"Oh, they'll be back," Kaelen confirmed, his grin fading. "But not with scouts. Next time, it'll be Boran himself. With a real war party. He's stubborn like that."
He stood up abruptly, his movement fluid. He began to pace the small room, a caged force of nature. "We need to move you. This spot is too exposed now."
"Move me where?" Elara asked, a new thread of fear winding through her.
"Deeper into the territory. Higher up. There's a grove the elders use. It's more defensible." He stopped pacing and looked at her. "We leave at first light."
The finality in his voice was absolute. Elara felt the walls of her world constrict further. She was being transferred from one cage to another.
"You're weak," Kaelen stated, not unkindly but with blunt fact. "The journey will be hard. You need to sleep."
He walked to the door. He placed his hand on the woven surface. It rippled, recognizing his touch. "Don't try the walls again. They're keyed to my essence. They'll just squeeze you."
He looked back at her one last time. His golden eyes gleamed in the low light. "You're fragile, but you're not a coward. I'll give you that."
Then he was gone. The lock clicked back into place. Elara was alone with the echoing night sounds and her thoughts.
She lay back on the furs. They were surprisingly soft and carried a clean, musky scent. The bioluminescent moss provided a soft, shifting glow.
Her mind replayed the day. The terrifying journey through the canopy. The staring eyes of the Beastkin. The raw, terrifying power of Kaelen's world.
She thought of the raw meat, the uncooked reality of survival here. She thought of the elders' warnings. She was a catalyst. A beacon.
A particularly loud screech echoed from just outside the wall. It was followed by a frantic scrabbling sound. Then a sharp, final squeal.
Silence returned. The forest had just enacted its own justice. A reminder of its endless, hungry cycle.
Elara shivered, pulling a fur over herself. The air was growing cooler. She stared at the intricate weave of her ceiling.
Her scientific mind tried to analyze the cellulose structure. It tried to categorize the scents and sounds. But the primal fear was too strong.
She was a trespasser here. A fragile, scent-marked trespasser in a kingdom of tooth and claw. The first night stretched before her, vast and unknown.
Sleep eventually claimed her, but it was thin and fitful. She dreamed of golden eyes in the dark and the deep, grinding roar of the Stone-Hoof. She dreamed of roots tightening around her wrists.
She awoke with a start much later. The moss-light had dimmed. Something was different. The nocturnal symphony had stopped.
A new sound replaced it. A slow, deliberate scraping against the outer wall of her dwelling. It was not the random scratch of a creature.
It was methodical. It was searching. It moved along the curve of the woven wood, pausing, then scraping again.
Elara sat up, her blood turning to ice. She held her breath. The scraping stopped right outside, opposite where she sat.
Silence hung for three heartbeats. Then, a low, unfamiliar whisper seeped through the living wall.
"Little spark… we smell you…"
It was not Kaelen's voice.