Three days of peace were shattered when a scout ran into the village, breathless.
"Wolf Clan raiders! A dozen, armed!"
The village scrambled. Echo joined the defense, spear in hand.
He used his modern knowledge to suggest traps — pits with sharpened stakes, tripwires with falling logs. The villagers listened, adapting quickly.
At dusk, the wolf-kin struck.
Echo fought beside them, his Feline Grace letting him dodge and strike with precision. His Error-Sight showed him weaknesses — a glitch in a raider's grip, a crack in another's armor.
He spotted the captain, a massive wolf-kin with a glowing eye-patch. The eye-patch flickered — a system error. Echo feigned a retreat, lured the captain onto loose ground, then cut the strap of his breastplate. The armor fell, and the captain stumbled.
Leyla, from the shadows, struck his leg with a sharp stone. He roared, retreated.
The raiders fled, but not before the captain locked eyes with Echo and growled, "You are marked, outworlder."
A faint red symbol glowed on Echo's forearm briefly before fading.
Afterward, Mira treated his minor cuts. Her touch was gentle, her gaze lingering.
"You fight like you've been here forever," she said.
"I adapt," Echo replied.
She smiled. "That may be your greatest power."
That night, around the fire, Elder Gareth spoke. "The wolf-kin will return. And they will bring more. We must prepare — or leave."
Echo looked at Leyla, at Mira, at the worried faces of the tribe.
He'd found shelter. Now, he had to help defend it.