Ragnar trudged through the undergrowth, boots sinking into damp earth. The forest smelled of wet iron and rot.
Then he saw it, dark, glistening smears on ferns and low branches. Blood. Too much blood.
Thick ropes of it dragged across moss and fallen leaves, as though someone had been hauled away still fighting.
He stopped. Breath caught.
'That's not a scratch. That's someone bleeding out.'
His hand drifted to the chipped knife at his belt. The trail curved ahead, fresh enough that droplets still gleamed wetly.
A wounded tribesman? A hunter dragged off? Or something worse, something that did the dragging and then kept walking, leaking?
Ragnar's stomach twisted. He knew the rule everyone whispered: never follow a blood trail alone. Especially not one this heavy.
He stared at the crimson path for a long moment, jaw tight.
*If I turn back now… whoever left this dies slower. If I follow… maybe I die faster.*
He cursed under his breath and started walking again, following the stain.
Half a mile later the trail simply stopped.
No body. No drag marks continuing. Just blood-soaked leaves and then nothing, like the ground had swallowed whoever made it.
Ragnar crouched, touched the last smear. Still tacky.
*This isn't right.*
A chill crawled up his spine. He stood quickly, scanning the trees. Nothing moved but wind.
*Stop it. You're jumping at shadows. Get home.*
He forced his legs forward, leaving the vanished trail behind.
When the wooden palisade finally appeared through the trees, relief hit him like a slap. The tribe's fires glowed faintly in the dusk. Smoke curled lazy against the purple sky.
At the gate stood the guard, Lila.
The strongest woman warrior in the tribe. The one who had never taken a partner, not once.
Most hunters were weak next to her, and they knew it. Yet she had never looked down on Ragnar the way the others did.
Not with pity, not with scorn. Just… acknowledgment. Quiet. Curt. Enough that he remembered it.
Her body was a study in raw, feminine power, curves that spoke of strength rather than fragility.
Full, heavy breasts strained against the thin strips of leather and cloth that barely contained them, rising and falling with each steady breath.
A narrow waist flared dramatically into wide, rounded hips and thick, powerful thighs that could crush bone or sprint for miles without tiring.
Her arms were corded with muscle, yet still softly feminine in their shape; her belly bore the faint ridges of hard-earned definition beneath smooth, sun-darkened skin.
She stood with hips cocked, spear planted, exuding the kind of effortless sensuality that came from knowing exactly how lethal she was.
Lila's eyes flicked to him as he approached. She said nothing.
Ragnar slowed. Remembering the blood trail he saw earlier.
He stopped in front of her.
"There's a heavy blood trail out there," he said quietly. "Half a mile far from the gate.
It was thick. Fresh. Then it just… vanishes. No body. No continuation. Be cautious tonight. And warn others."
Lila studied him for a long beat. Then she gave a single, firm nod.
"Noted."
That was all. No questions. No dismissal.
Ragnar walked past without another word, the knot in his chest loosening just a fraction.
Inside the walls the huts hunched low and crooked, roofs patched with whatever could be stolen from the forest.
Children's laughter clashed with the crack of splitting wood. Same as always.
Ragnar ducked into his family's hut.
Val, his brother, looked up from the small fire, face lighting instantly.
"Ragnar! You're back early."
The aunt, stooped, grey streaking her braid, turned from the pot she was stirring. Worry lived permanently in the lines around her eyes.
"You're fine?" she asked, voice thin.
"Yeah." Ragnar forced a nod. "I'm…Ok"
He dropped to the low stool near the fire. The warmth felt like a lie.
Val scooted closer, earnest as always. "You look tired. Did something happen out there?"
Ragnar rubbed his face. The blood trail flashed behind his eyelids.
"…There's something bad in the woods," he said quietly. "Heavy blood trail. Too much. Then it just… disappeared."
The aunt's spoon froze mid-stir.
Val's smile faltered. "Disappeared?"
"Gone. Like the ground drank it." Ragnar met their eyes. "I don't know what did it. But whatever it was, it's strong. And it's close."
Silence pressed in, broken only by the fire snapping.
The aunt set the spoon down with shaking fingers. "We should tell the elders, "
"No." Ragnar's voice came sharper than he meant. "They won't listen to me. You know that."
Val frowned, confused. "But if someone's hurt, "
"I'm not saying do nothing." Ragnar leaned forward. "I'm saying don't leave the walls. Not tomorrow. Not the next day. Not until we know more."
The aunt searched his face. "You're frightened."
Ragnar looked away. "I'm not frightened. I'm realistic."
Val reached out, touched his arm, trusting. "We'll stay. If you say it's bad, we stay."
The aunt exhaled slowly. "Both of you… promise me you'll be careful and stay inside"
"I promise," Val said at once.
Later that night, after the fire died and the hut grew still, Ragnar lay awake.
*Quest deadline in three days. Fail and the system kills me. Succeed… maybe I evolve. Maybe I stop being nothing.*
*Aria. The goblin chief's daughter. Cold. Logical. She might listen to my words.*
Tomorrow he would go to her. Bargain. Beg if he had to.
The next morning, Ragnar slipped outside at first dawn.
A crowd had gathered near the gate, low, tense voices.
But with no body.
Instead, Lila stood near the entrance, alive, spear in hand, speaking quietly to two other guards.
Her posture was alert, watchful. When her gaze landed on Ragnar, she broke off mid-sentence.
She walked straight to him.
Her nod was curt, but different this time, respect edged into it.
"Your advice saved us," she said, voice low. "The trail came again. Closer. We were ready. We couldn't see it clearly in the dark… but it backed off when it saw three spears waiting."
Ragnar exhaled slowly. "Good."
Lila tilted her head, studying him. "Where are you going this early?"
He hesitated for a moment. Weighting the option of telling her or not.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Ragnar."
He glanced around, no one close enough to hear.
"You don't tell a soul," he said. "Not one."
She nodded, "I promise on my pride as a warrior"
"I'm going to the goblin village."
Lila's expression didn't change, but something flickered behind her eyes.
For a moment she was silent.
Then she turned, raised two fingers toward another guard near the gate. The woman jogged over.
"Take my post," Lila said. "I'm stepping away."
The replacement nodded and moved into her position.
Lila turned back to Ragnar. "I can't let you walk into that alone."
Ragnar's jaw tightened. "If you come, we risk war. If they see a warrior with me, they might kill us both on sight. Or worse, use it as reason to raid."
"I'm too stubborn to yield," she replied flatly. "I'm coming. And I'll respect your demand, no one will hears where we went."
He stared at her. She stared back, unblinking.
"You're serious."
"Deadly."
Ragnar exhaled through his nose.
"Fine. But if it goes wrong, it's on both of us."
Lila only shifted her spear to her other shoulder.
They turned together and walked toward the forest, side by side, the outcast and the tribe's strongest warrior, disappearing into the green shadows.