Chapter 31: Returning Home With the New Group
Year 0002, IX Month: The Imperium
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The Cave
Erik maintained vigilant watch at the mouth of the cave, his lean form silhouetted against the fading daylight. Though weary from battle, he had volunteered to take first watch as the least injured of their small band of survivors. The cool mountain air carried the scent of pine and distant rainfall, a welcome respite from the metallic tang of blood that had permeated their earlier struggles.
Inside the cave, the others tended to their wounds by the flickering light of a modest fire. The father and daughter sat close together, their hushed conversation punctuated by winces as they dressed each other's injuries. Jonathan's massive hands, calloused from years of wilderness survival, worked with surprising gentleness as he applied herbal poultice to Angeline's wounded shoulder. Their reunion, forged in the chaos of battle, seemed almost surreal in the relative peace of their temporary shelter.
An hour passed, marked only by the shifting shadows and the occasional snap of burning wood. It was time for Bren to relieve Erik at guard duty. Just as they prepared to switch positions, a tremendous disturbance rippled through the forest below. Trees swayed violently, their branches casting erratic shadows in the dying light.
Erik tensed, hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his dagger. Through narrowed eyes, he spotted a massive shape being dragged across the forest floor—a Grimfang, one of the fearsome predators that had nearly claimed their lives earlier that day. Behind it walked a solitary figure, slight but determined in his movements.
"August," Erik breathed, relief flooding through him. "He's back."
The silhouette resolved into that of a boy, no older than twelve by appearance, yet carrying himself with the confidence of someone far beyond those years. He dragged the immense carcass of the Grimfang with apparent ease—a beast that would have required a dozen more or so grown men to move.
"Hey, Gus is back!" Erik called into the cave, his voice carrying a note of triumph. "He's just left that massive Grimfang down below us. Looks like he's searching for our position."
Erik stood and waved energetically, calling out to their returning companion. "Gus!" He pointed toward the location where they had stashed the other fallen beasts, a makeshift trophy collection of their unlikely victory.
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August Returns Victorious
August paused at the base of the rocky incline, his muscles aching pleasantly from the exertion of dragging the Commander Grimfang across the dense forest terrain. The creature's silver-gray fur was matted with dried blood, its massive jaws—capable of crushing bone with a single bite—now permanently fixed in a final snarl. He arranged the beast beneath the mountain cave where they had camped before, it was a testament to his ridiculous feat of strength.
The sound of Erik's voice drew his attention upward. He spotted his companion waving from the cave entrance, gesturing toward a specific direction with evident excitement.
*They made it, then,* August thought with quiet satisfaction. *Everyone survived.*
His heart lightened at the realization. The odds had been stacked against them from the beginning—a group of children and a group of wanderers facing the apex predators of the Lonelywood. Yet somehow, they had prevailed.
*I should check on their condition first,* he decided, noting the awkward way Erik favored his right side. *He may have wounds that may look worse than they appeared in the heat of battle.*
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New Faces And A Surprise
A minute later, August climbed into the cave entrance, ducking slightly to avoid the low overhang. The familiar scent of medicinal herbs and woodsmoke greeted him as he straightened.
"Hey, how is everyone doing?" he asked, scanning the assembled group for signs of serious injury.
Erik's face split into a knowing grin, mysterious and pleased. "See for yourself," he replied, gesturing toward the fire. "We have a bit of a surprise."
August stepped further into the cave, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The group huddled around the fire pit appeared largely intact—tired and bandaged in places, but alive. Betty sat tending to a small cut on her arm, while Gel—
August paused, surprise registering on his normally composed features. Gel sat beside a mountain of a man, her small frame dwarfed by his imposing presence. They were engaged in animated conversation, their matching expressions and mannerisms suddenly striking in their similarity. The man's weathered face bore the same determined set to the jaw, the same golden eyes as Gel, thay intensity of gaze that August had come to recognize in Gel during their months together.
A connection formed in August's mind, pieces falling into place.
"Gus! You're back!" Gel sprang to her feet with unexpected energy, rushing to meet him. Her keen eyes scanned him from head to toe, searching for injuries with the practiced thoroughness of someone they were intimately familiar with, the battlefield wounds that August would almost like usual have when he comes home from hunting.
Finding none, her face brightened with genuine relief. "Great, you have no injuries this time!" She offered him a thumbs-up, her smile radiant in the firelight.
August could feel the weight of scrutiny pressing upon him from across the cave. The large man was studying him with undisguised intensity, his gaze sharp enough to cut stone.
"Hey," August whispered, leaning slightly toward Gel. "Do you know him?"
"That's my father," she replied simply, as if the revelation wasn't earth-shattering.
*Father?* August's heart stuttered in his chest. The sudden understanding of the man's protective glare made his mouth go dry. No wonder the man looked ready to tear him apart with his bare hands—he'd been traveling along with the new group to find his missing family for months.
Cold sweat prickled along August's spine as he contemplated the misunderstanding that might be brewing.
Summoning his courage, August approached the imposing figure. Standing before him felt remarkably similar to facing the Commander Grimfang, though somehow more intimidating.
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The First Introductions
"He-hello, sir. My name is August," he managed, the words catching slightly in his throat.
The man's presence seemed to fill the cave, an aura of quiet strength radiating from him even as he sat motionless. His eyes—the same shade of gold as Gel's—bored into August's, searching for something known only to him.
August found himself standing straighter, acutely aware that he was being measured in ways he couldn't fully comprehend. How strange that this silent evaluation unnerved him more than the savage attack of the monstrous wolf he'd faced earlier.
"I am Jonathan Ross, Angeline's father." The man's voice rumbled like distant thunder, deep and resonant. He offered a slight nod, acknowledging August without warmth or hostility—merely assessment.
August forced a smile, the expression feeling brittle on his face.
Moving closer to Gel, he lowered his voice to a near-whisper. "Did you tell your father yet?"
Gel flinched visibly, understanding the unspoken question immediately. Her eyes clouded with pain, shoulders tensing with the weight of unshared tragedy.
"No, not yet..." she admitted softly, her normally confident voice reduced to a fragile thread.
August nodded in understanding. The loss of her mother to the very Grimfang attack the previous year wasn't news anyone should have to deliver. He wouldn't burden her with that responsibility.
After a moment of solemn silence, August moved through the cave, introducing himself to the other survivors. Among them were two children, barely old enough to wield weapons yet bearing the haunted eyes of those who had seen too much too soon.
Once pleasantries were exchanged, he addressed the entire group with the practical authority that had become second nature to him, despite being unaware of it himself. As the other children Gel, Erik, Betty and Bren have naturally been pushing him towards that role.
As they saw that it came as a natural outcome for him, where they may have relied instinctively for their own survival in this harsh environment. He was a true born leader, that had led them on the front scenes, to bring them their current secure and abundant life, even in the harsh forest.
"Right, I'm going to go back down and drag the other Grimfangs here. By the looks of it, we might need to camp another night in this place. We'll return to the village in the morning."
A chorus of exhausted agreements met his pronouncement:
"Sure..."
"Okay..."
"Got it..."
"No problem, boss man..."
Satisfied with their consensus, August prepared to depart. He left his bow and quiver behind—all his arrows have been spent with his recent battle with the Commander Grimfang—and motioned for Erik to join him.
As they reached the cave entrance, August turned to Bren. "Hey Bren, watch our backs, okay?"
The younger boy beamed with pride at being entrusted with such responsibility. "He he he... count on me, big bro."
*Big bro.* August suppressed a cringe at the title. Though only a year or so separated them, the honorific still felt strange after months of hearing it. He kept his expression neutral, however, unwilling to diminish Bren's enthusiasm with his discomfort.
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Retrieving Their Trophies
Back on the forest floor, they approached the enormous Grimfang carcass August had dragged earlier. In the twilight, the beast appeared even more fearsome than in daylight—its silver fur taking on an almost ethereal sheen, its massive frame dwarfing both boys.
"He looks pretty dead to me," Erik observed, prodding the beast with a stick. "You sure didn't save any arrows for him, huh, Gus?"
August merely shrugged, his mind already focused on the task ahead. The quiver of arrows embedded in the creature's hide told their own story of an epic and relentless fight.
They continued toward the site of their earlier battle where they first met Jonathan and his group, moving cautiously through the underbrush. Both remained vigilant, scanning the growing shadows for signs of other predators attracted by the scent of blood.
When they were certain the area was secure, they began the laborious process of retrieving the other two Grimfang carcasses.
Erik struggled visibly with his burden, teeth gritted with determination. The beast he attempted to drag stood as tall as he was—nearly seven feet from paw to shoulder—and weighed close to 250 kilograms of solid muscle and bone. By comparison, Erik's frame, though hardened by months of survival training under August's tutelage, seemed painfully inadequate for the task.
August watched his friend's efforts with quiet admiration, but he offered to help him with it and ease his burden, while he asked Erik to scout ahead. These creatures were no joke, they had been engineere by nature for speed and lethal efficiency—lean, powerful bodies capable of bringing down prey three times their size. Their bite force alone could shatter bone and sever limbs with terrifying ease.
*We were incredibly fortunate,* August reflected, studying the killing machines they had somehow defeated. *By all rights, we should be dead.*
The Commander Grimfang he had faced alone had been vastly more powerful than these two subordinates combined—larger, faster, smarter. It had taken every ounce of skill and strength he possessed to bring the creature down.
Erik, no longer struggling with his burden, couldn't help but wonder at the same question that had occurred to every survivor who had witnessed August fight: How had an eleven-year-old boy defeated such a monster alone? While they struggled with only the minions nonetheless.
Noticing Erik's struggle, August paused. "Are you good?"
"Ye...ah..." Erik panted, his arms trembling with exertion. "How...how are you so strong, Gus?"
August stopped, the Grimfangs he held seemingly and effortlessly in his grasp stopped on their tracks. He looked at Erik with an enigmatic smile. "Well, maybe I was a god back then."
The absurdity of the statement broke through their exhaustion, and both boys laughed—the sound strangely normal amid the abnormal circumstances of their lives. The idea that a deity would descend to their world, much less take the form of a village boy, seemed the height of fantasy.
Erik shook his head, still smiling, and August merely shrugged as they continued toward the Commander Grimfang's carcass. As they walked, August's mind turned to the practical matters of transporting their trophies back to the village, calculating the best approach for tomorrow's journey.
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The Northern Grimfang Pack of the Lonelywoods Forest
Deeper in the Lonelywood Forest, the remaining Grimfangs of the northern pack continued their nightly hunt, unaware that their Commander and two pack members had fallen. Relatively weak compared to the dominant packs that ruled the forest interior, they had nonetheless maintained their territory through the Commander's ferocity and cunning.
It would be weeks before they could track the scent of those responsible for their losses—the first week of winter, when the air grew still and cold enough to preserve lingering traces. By then, the perpetrators would long be gone beyond their reach, safely behind village walls and other Grimfang packs that ruled the area.
By then, it would be far too late for vengeance, as they would be facing with the very being that slaughtered their own.
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A Cozy Feeling Inside the Cave
That evening, the expanded group gathered around the fire pit, drawn together by warmth, hunger, and the peculiar bond formed by their earlier shared survival.
August had contributed a freshly killed Boarat to their evening meal—a young male that had wandered too close to their temporary shelter. The beast, though only Level 1, provided enough meat to satisfy them all.
He had offered to prepare the meal himself, but the women of the group had gently overruled him, insisting he rest after his exertions. Accepting their kindness, he settled back against the cave wall, observing the domestic scene with quiet attention.
Erik butchered the beast with practiced efficiency—displaying a skill he had honed during the months he had spent together with August and the others. Some portions were skewered for roasting, others added to a bubbling pot of soup, all seasoned with the precious remaining spices from their packs.
The tantalizing aroma filled the cave as a gentle breeze wafted through, causing more than one stomach to growl in anticipation. Several hands reached surreptitiously toward the cooking meat, only to be deterred by sharp glances from the women tending the fire.
When the meal was finally declared ready, they divided it equally among themselves and began to eat with the focused appreciation of those who understood hunger intimately.
Conversation flowed around August as he ate. The newcomers shared their stories—how they had traveled further down South, coming from the Village of Kirka a few hundred kilometers away from here. Detailing how Red had come across an information of Gel and her mother's last know whereabout and direction of it before their journey. And the subsequent battle that ensued to confront the acting village chief and their great escape away from the village that had banished Gel and her mother.
How they had previously been ambushed by a sole injured Grimfang, in which they mamage to kill at the price of Christopher being injured and slowing their progress. And how they think the Grimfang pack hand managed to follow their tracks throught its lingering scent.
How they had nearly lost hope before August's group came to their rescue.
August observed the scene with a bittersweet ache in his chest. The firelight illuminated animated faces, hands gesturing as stories unfolded, occasional laughter breaking through the tension of their circumstances. The temporary community reminded him painfully of evenings in his own village, before the fateful night of the slaughter...
His thoughts darkened, appetite threatening to vanish with the memory of all he had lost. Determined not to waste food—a lesson his mother had drummed into him relentlessly—he forced himself to continue eating.
*"Food is life, August,"* his mother's voice echoed in his memory. *"What dies to feed us deserves our respect. Clean your plate, or don't ask for it to be filled."*
A single tear threatened at the corner of his eye. He blinked it away quickly, unwilling to disturb the fragile happiness surrounding him. This wasn't the time for his grief. Tonight was for celebrating survival.
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The Night on The Cave
After their meal, the group prepared their sleeping arrangements, organizing the limited space to accommodate everyone comfortably. Discussion turned to the night watch rotation.
August moved to volunteer alongside Bren, but Red—one of Jonathan's companions—spoke first, offering to take the first shift with Christopher.
When the matter was settled, the others retired to their bedrolls while the first watch positioned themselves at the cave entrance, weapons close at hand.
When soft snores indicated their companions had fallen asleep, Red and Christopher spoke in hushed tones, unable to contain their amazement at the day's events.
"I can't believe we survived that encounter this morning," Red murmured, his gaze distant with remembered fear.
Christopher nodded slowly. "Yeah, and those children who came to help us... they managed to take down one of those beasts themselves, and another even helped us." He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. "But that August kid... he took down the strongest one by himself."
Red glanced back into the cave, confirming that their conversation remained private. "Right? How is that even possible? That creature was easily ten times stronger than the ones we faced before. The Commander Grimfang is legendary among the northern settlements—no hunting party has ever taken one down without massive casualties."
"And he came back without life-threatening wounds," Christopher added. "A few scratches, maybe a bit tired, but otherwise intact. And that beast down there—it must weigh at least five hundred kilograms. He dragged it back alone after the fight?"
"It defies explanation," Red agreed, "but the evidence is irrefutable."
Both men fell silent, recalling how August and Erik had later retrieved the other two carcasses—August effortlessly handling both while Erik scouted ahead. The display of strength seemed impossible from a boy of his size and age.
They maintained their thoughtful silence until the next shift relieved them, each man privately wondering what other surprises their young savior might reveal.
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The Break of Dawn
Dawn broke with gentle insistence, painting the eastern sky in watercolor hues of pink and gold. As was his habit, August woke before the others, easing himself from his bedroll without disturbing those nearby.
He stepped outside to perform his morning stretches, finding Jonathan and Erik on the final watch shift. Jonathan's surprise at August's early rising was evident, though he said nothing at first.
"Is that normal? But curiousity got the better of himashe finally asked Erik, nodding toward the boy methodically working through a series of exercises.
"Yes, sir," Erik confirmed. "Same time every day, without fail. Earlier in summer, even. He doesn't forcer or drag all of us to do it, but we saw how it had slowly improved us and as the days go by we naturally did it by ourselves, following him daily." A note of respect colored his tone. "It's his village routine," he says. He claims it's why he's so strong."
"I see," Jonathan replied thoughtfully, watching with newfound interest.
One by one, the other children emerged from the cave to join August—Erik would also be leaving his watch post joining them, then Bren, Betty, and finally Angeline. August led them through a structured routine of stretches, followed by a brief run around the perimeter of their temporary camp.
They concluded with weapon drills—practiced movements with their respective arms that spoke of months of dedicated training. By the time they finished their improvised sparring session, the sun had barely crested the horizon.
Returning to the cave, they efficiently packed their bedrolls, gear, and supplies, preparing for the journey ahead.
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Returning Home
When everyone had assembled at the base of the rocky outcropping, August outlined their travel plans for the day. The group listened attentively, respecting the natural leadership that seemed to emanate from the young leader.
"Alright, as planned, I'll drag the Commander Grimfang. The rest of you can manage the other two between you." He gestured to Gel and Betty. "You'll flank Auntie Theressa and the children, keeping them protected at all times."
Erik straightened as August turned to him. "Erik will be scoutin ahead of us, warning us of any potential threats before we encounter them."
With roles assigned and understood, they began their journey home, moving cautiously through territory they knew to be dangerous. Several aggressive Boarats charged them along the way, but the creatures were dispatched efficiently under August's guidance.
Unable to carry additional trophies while burdened with the Grimfang carcasses, they left the Boarat remains behind—unintentional gifts to the forest's other predators.
By the time they reached the outskirts of their village, night had fallen. The journey had taken longer than anticipated, requiring rest breaks and meals, as well as detours to avoid unnecessary confrontations with forest denizens.
As they passed through the village gates, a collective sigh of relief rippled through the group. Though unchanged in their absence, the familiar surroundings represented safety and normalcy after their harrowing adventure.
They had survived. They had returned.
They were home.