It was Oudra who noticed first.
They were returning from a short hunt. The nights had been getting colder — winter arriving in small touches. Breath visible in the morning air, deer descending toward the valleys, the camp elders talking about provisions.
"Beren hasn't come to the hunt in days," Oudra said quietly.
Peter searched his memory. A young warrior — discreet, not yet twenty seasons. He used to follow Karg everywhere like a shadow. Used to. Peter realized he hadn't actually seen him in days.
"Did you see him leave?"
"No. Nobody did."
Peter looked at the line of warriors ahead of them. Karg at the front, as always, not turning around.
"You think he left alone?"
Oudra took a moment.
"I think someone told him to leave."
"Who?"
Oudra said nothing. His eyes moved toward one face in the group.
"No. You're wrong, Oudra. He probably left for something else entirely."
That night, Peter didn't sleep. He sat at the entrance of his cave, watching the stars, thinking about Beren.
---
Down in the village, everything was still. Everyone was asleep.
From the bushes nearby, a shadow emerged. It moved carefully through the camp — slipping between huts with the ease of someone who knew every corner by heart. It stopped in front of Karg's shelter.
Inside, nothing unusual. A few pieces of dried fruit and meat. Karg slept at the center, his spear beside him as always — as if he never truly put it down.
He was a seasoned warrior. The intruder didn't stand a chance of surprising him.
Karg opened his eyes slowly, picked up his spear without a sound, and rose to his feet. The moment the figure stepped inside, he lunged and delivered a sharp blow to the head.
"Wait — Karg. It's me. Beren."
Karg released him, stunned.
"You? What are you doing at my door at this hour? And where have you been? Do you have any idea how many patrols I ran looking for you? Your mother hasn't left me alone for a single day."
"I'm sorry," said Beren, scratching his head. "But I have something to tell you."
"Then speak."
Beren held his breath. Then let it out.
"The Rokar — the Northern tribe — are going to attack us."
"What? Are you certain?"
"Yes. They're in the forest."
"We have to warn the chief. The warriors need to prepare—"
"Wait. Calm down. I haven't told you everything." Beren paused. "They're here because of me. After you lost the duel, I went to find them — to ask for their help in killing Oonak. You know they hate him for killing their old chief. I made a pact with them. So that you could become our new chief."
Karg's eyes went wide. His jaw tightened until the muscles in his neck stood out. He raised his hand and struck the boy, who dropped to the ground.
"What have you done? Do you understand what you've just set in motion?"
"I did it for you. I thought you hated Oonak. I thought you wanted to replace him."
Karg shook his head, something between anger and sorrow crossing his face.
"I don't hate him. I wanted to be chief — that's different. You should have seen him during our duel. Whatever people thought of him, whatever state he was in — he had something in him. A fire to protect and to prove. I still plan to challenge him again someday. But I've made my peace with where things stand. And now you've gone and torn open old wounds."
He looked at Beren on the ground, crying.
"I think I influenced you badly. The way my parents influenced me." He sighed. "Get up. I forgive you. Let's go see the chief."
---
Peter was in his cave when he heard Karg's voice outside.
"Oonak. It's Karg."
What would bring him here at this hour? Peter stepped out immediately.
"Karg. What is it?"
"The Rokar are going to attack."
The blood drained from Peter's face.
An enemy tribe. Coming here. Tonight.
"Why?"
"I didn't tell you everything." Karg nodded toward the shadows. "Beren — come out."
The young warrior stepped forward and dropped to his knees, forehead to the ground.
"I'm sorry, my King. This is entirely my fault."
Peter looked at him for a moment without speaking. The boy didn't fully understand what he'd done. But Peter could use that — use what Beren knew about the Rokar.
"Stand up. You didn't know the full picture. And I'm still alive, so breathe. Karg — tell him what happened between our tribes. He needs to understand."
Karg sat down. So did the others. And he began.
"You've heard of the Calamity?"
Beren nodded.
"It was during the Calamity that our king killed the old chief of the Rokar. That's the source of their hatred — but it goes back further than that. Much further."
He paused, then continued.
"Before our village existed, there was a chief to the far north — said to be the most powerful warrior who ever lived. Strong enough to kill a mammoth with bare hands. He had many children, but only one of them had inherited his strength — his youngest. This youngest could bring back from a single hunt what ten hunters struggled to take down together.
When the father grew old, tradition demanded the eldest son take his place. The youngest accepted this without complaint — he planned to support his brother. But a rumor spread: the king was going to break tradition and name his youngest as successor.
The eldest heard. So did the other brothers. The king sent them away — told them that if enemies ever attacked after his death, what use would they be in their weakness? They didn't back down. They killed their own father.
The eldest became king. He gave positions of power to those who'd helped him. But public opinion favored the youngest — and so the brothers banished him. He wasn't in the village when it happened. When he returned and understood what had been done, his rage was absolute. He said that men capable of killing their own father deserved no mercy. He killed a number of them before he was forced to stop — they threatened the woman he loved.
He left. She followed. He wandered, survived, and eventually built his own tribe.
That tribe was the Woolak. That is why, among us, only the strongest leads. And that hatred — between what became the Rokar and what became us — never died."
Silence settled over the group.
"And the first Woolak chief?" Beren asked quietly. "How did he die?"
"He became stronger than even his father. No one could beat him fairly — so they used treachery. Civilians were used to weaken him, and then he was cut down. After that, the Woolak were pushed back steadily — until we ended up here.
Then came the Calamity. A great drought across all the plains. We were barely surviving — our water reserves nearly gone. The Rokar saw their chance. They hid near the water sources and killed anything that came to drink. Everyone believed it was the end.
But we had Oonak. He fought like something beyond human and drove an axe into their chief's heart. They ran."
The silence that followed was heavy. Everyone in the group understood what was coming.
Peter was the first to speak.
"So their new chief must be the old one's son. He wants me dead."
"Not just you," said Karg. "He wants us destroyed — as always. That's why I hit you, Beren."
He looked at the young warrior.
"You're the one who brought them here. They're waiting for you to come back and signal them — or bring me. As long as you don't return, they won't move. But if you take too long, they'll know something is wrong and attack anyway."
Peter stood.
"Karg — go down and wake the warriors. Quietly."
"And you?"
"I'll do the same."
He looked north.
"We hit them first."