War Beast

Book Four: Chapter 2

The night air carried the scent of wood smoke and roasted meat as Huntar, Zena, and Torag made their way through the bustling bear village, the Steel Axe Clan. Laughter and raucous cheers spilled from the tavern up ahead, guiding their steps after a hard-won victory against the Venom Spear Clan.

The Tree Elixir tavern became their favorite since they discovered it one cycle ago. It served the best honey ales and fresh meat for any adventurer whom the bears welcomed. Zena and Torag only enjoyed the honey ales, of course. Plant eaters hated meat.

Huntar grinned, the thrill of battle still coursing through his veins. He loved these celebratory nights when the clan could revel in their triumphs and drown their sorrows in honey ale. Zena matched his stride, her striped tail swishing each step, while Torag's heavy footfalls shook the ground behind them.

As they pushed through the tavern doors, a wave of noise and body heat enveloped them. Burly bear warriors bellowed drinking songs, tankards sloshing with each boisterous movement. Huntar swept his gaze across the crowded room, searching for an empty table.

"Over there," Zena called, pointing with her staff.

They wove between the revelers, Huntar's powerful frame clearing a path. Chairs scraped against the worn floors as they claimed a small, unoccupied table in the corner.

"What a fight!" Zena slammed her hands down, grinning. "You should have seen the look on that snake pig's face when I cracked his skull."

Torag grunted, the hint of a smile tugging at his leathery lips. "Torag."

"Easy for you to say." Huntar chuckled. "You just had to stomp on their bones."

A buxom bear waitress strutted over, her tray laden with mugs. "Celebrating again, I see?"

"Trina!" Zena looped an arm around the woman's waist, pulling her into a loose embrace. "Where else would we revel in our conquests?"

Trina laughed, her deep voice cutting through the din as she extricated herself. "I'll bring you the usual, then."

As she sashayed away, Huntar leaned back, basking in the familiar smells and sounds. His newly earned gem pouch felt heavy, jingling with the promise of restocking their supplies. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to imagine what life might be like without the endless conflicts, and the fear of not waking on the morrow.

The thought vanished as quickly as it came. Such dreams were for fools. The Clan Wars shaped their reality—they would fight or be crushed beneath the boots of their enemies. Better to accept the harshness of their world than to delude oneself with fantasies.

Trina returned, her tray laden with mugs of deep amber honey ale. She grinned as Torag wrapped his thick fingers around one, downing it in two gulps.

"Don't go too fast, big boy." She settled the remaining tankards on the table with a wink. "I'll be back with more before you know it."

As she disappeared into the crowd, Zena snagged her mug, raising it high. "To fallen enemies!"

Huntar clinked his tankard against hers, the familiar words spilling from his lips. "And reclaimed glory!"

They drank deep, the tartness of the sweet ale coating Huntar's tongue. He could already feel the warmth spreading through his limbs, easing the ache of their recent battles.

"Do you remember," Zena began, her eyes distant, "when we first met Jenny?"

A pang of sadness lanced through Huntar's chest. The memories came unbidden—the human woman, with her fearless spirit and strange magic, ripped from their world in a blinding vortex. He pushed them aside, stamping down the guilt that never seemed to fade.