The brittle, parched leaves of the dead forest floor cracked and crunched beneath the faintest movement of a small creature scurrying about. No rger than a foot in length, the voruk—a mammalian, rat-like animal—had once flourished in the sprawling forests and wide pins of Orkungthar. But now, spotting one was a rarity, a fleeting sight in a world increasingly barren and desote.

  The voruk moved carefully, its tiny paws rustling softly in the dry earth as it dug through the withered soil, desperate for any scrap of nourishment it could find.

  Unbeknownst to the creature, a predator had already set its sights on it. With a sudden, deadly release, an arrow whistled through the thick, stagnant air and found its mark, sinking deep into the voruk's flesh just above its shoulders. A sharp, panicked shriek echoed through the quiet forest as the creature’s limbs filed in agony. The arrow quivered as the tiny animal staggered forward, trying desperately to escape back to its warren. But after only a few pained, faltering steps, the voruk’s strength failed. It colpsed onto the ground, its lifeblood staining the dry leaves beneath it.

  A figure emerged from the shadows, his gaze locked on the fallen creature. Without a word, the humanoid being crouched down, his rge, calloused hands deftly removing the arrow from the voruk’s still-warm body. “This should be enough,” he murmured under his breath, tucking the carcass into his leather satchel and returning the bloodied arrow to its quiver.

  His physique was tall and powerful, his skin a sun-kissed brown, with jagged, sharp lower canines jutting from his mouth like primitive tusks. His head was shaved on the sides, with the remaining hair pulled into a tight ponytail, and he wore a suit of worn leather armor, draped with thick furs from beasts he'd sin.

  An Oruk—one of the natives of the dying nds of Orkungthar.

  The Oruk’s rough hands dug into his bag, pulling out a small whistle, its edges worn smooth by years of use. He blew into it, and within moments, a Direwolf emerged from the undergrowth, its massive form easily twice the size of the Oruk. Its eyes gleamed a deep, unsettling red, like fresh blood, and its fur was as dark as the night itself, each strand glistening like raven feathers. Its cws and fangs were sharp enough to tear through stone, and its hide, thick and impenetrable.

  "Come, Raga," the Oruk called, his voice low but firm, and the beast immediately drew closer, nuzzling its rge head against his hand. "You’re hungry, aren’t you, boy?" he muttered, running his fingers through the animal’s thick fur. "We’re done for the day. Let’s head home."

  Without compint, the Direwolf bent down, offering its broad back to the Oruk. With a swift and practiced motion, he mounted the beast and tied his bag securely to the saddle, before gently but firmly pulling the reins. The Direwolf responded instantly, leaping forward with a burst of speed, its powerful legs cutting through the air as it glided effortlessly between the skeletons of long-dead trees. Within moments, they had left the decaying forest behind, heading downhill toward the distant stronghold of Dushkka'l.

  Before long, the Oruk was joined by another, a taller figure riding a blood-red Direwolf. "Raruk!" the newcomer called out with a grin, his deep voice filled with pride. "How many did you catch today?"

  Raruk’s lips curved into a faint smile as he raised his hand to show three fingers. “Two voruks, one red tusk,” he answered, his tone casual, though his thoughts remained elsewhere.

  Twenty five years had passed since the catastrophe now known as The Extinction occurred. The st female Oruk, Cn-mother Grekka, had failed to produce a daughter, and had died soon after. Raruk, the second son of the Warwulf Cn’s chieftain, was the st ever Oruk born into this world. His birth had sealed the fate of his race, ensuring that the Oruks would vanish in time, leaving only memories and faded legends in their wake.

  Boruk, Raruk’s older brother, fshed a smug grin. "Seems I’ve won this round, little brother," he boasted, raising five fingers. "Two red tusks and three voruks, guahaha!"

  Despite the success of the hunt, a heavy weight hung over Raruk’s thoughts, his smile absent and distant. The food they carried—combined with what they had stored—was enough to see the Warwulf Cn through the coming winter, but it was a fleeting victory in the face of a much grim reality.

  The Warwulf cn’s territory had expanded, their hunting grounds had grown significantly rger compared to before, all thanks to the efforts of their Chieftain and his warband. But the nd was still sick, tainted by a slow, insidious decay that spread through the soil and into the very air they breathe. Each day, more and more nd rots, and each day more and more outsiders—desperate, driven by starvation, intrude on their territory to hunt and poach.

  And winter... winter would make everything worse.

  Raruk’s heart was heavy with the understanding of what was coming, he knew that the Warwulf Cn would soon find themselves on the precipice of another war. One far more brutal and bloodier than the Great Famine War—a conflict not only for resources, but for the very survival of their people.

  It was inevitable.

  As they approached the looming stronghold, Raruk raised a clenched fist toward the watchtower—an old signal, commanding the sentries to open the great iron gates.

  The massive iron gates creaked and groaned as they opened to let the two in. Dismounting his Direwolf, Raruk noticed that only one sentry was stationed at the top, normally there would be four.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he growled, his voice tinged with anger. “Why are there fewer guards?”

  Startled by his voice, several Oruk sentries who should have been stationed above came scrambling down the stone steps. One of them—wide-eyed and breathless—called out, “Raruk! You must come quickly. The fishing ds, they've returned but… they brought something” he paused, "something strange."

  Raruk and his brother Boruk exchanged a gnce, then turned toward the commotion near the port. A crowd had gathered—dozens of Oruks pushing, grunting, and elbowing their way forward, desperate to catch a glimpse of whatever had caused such a stir.

  Pushing through the throng, Raruk finally id eyes on it. The creature, as small as a juvenile Oruk, Its skin was pale and smooth, its golden hair matted to its head with seawater. Unlike the Oruks, it had no tusks, no signs of hardened skin. It looked… soft, fragile even.

  “What the hell is that?” Boruk asked, eyes narrowed. “Do you recognize it, brother?”

  Raruk remained silent.

  “Some kind of fish? No… it has no gills.”

  “A sea spirit?”

  "Where did you even catch this?"

  "Near the Thunder dome, we were checking for new spots to fish when we saw it atop a wooden barrel!"

  "You're saying it came from across the Thunder Dome? Impossible! Nothing can get past that"

  “Can we eat it?”

  “Is it even alive?”

  “It is! Look—its chest moved! It breathes!”

  The Oruks murmured and argued amongst themselves, curiosity overtaking their caution. Thick, calloused fingers reached out to prod the strange being. Curious gasps and growls echoed around the circle as the creature gave a faint twitch.

  “Back!” Raruk, finally speaking, bellowed, his voice booming like a war drum, scattering the crowd. He crouched beside the creature, frowning. It y unconscious, soaked through and shivering, its thin arms wrapped tightly around itself as though trying to hold in whatever warmth remained. Its face, even in sleep, was etched with fear.

  "I don’t believe it" Raruk thought, his heart pounding, as he clenched his fist. "A human! An actual human!"

  He stood slowly, his eyes reflecting a storm of questions. What was a human doing here? Where had it come from? Had it truly crossed the Thunder Dome—the barrier long thought impassable? Were there others? Are there other nds aside from Orkungthar?

  But he couldn’t say any of this. Not here, not now. The Oruks had never encountered humans, not in all their history. To name it would only spark fear, panic, suspicion—or worse.

  “It’s still breathing, let's bring it inside for now." Raruk said in a low, careful voice.

  The Oruks hesitated for a moment, all exchanging gnces with one another. “Are you sure about that, Raruk?” asked finally by an older Oruk, his brows furrowed. “Should we not tell the Chieftain before bringing that thing inside? Into our home?”

  “He said bring it inside!” Boruk snarled, smming the butt of his axe against the stone with a sharp crack. He stepped in close, towering over the elder. “So bring it inside. Now.”

  Though he was older, rger, and physically stronger, Boruk had always regarded Raruk with a degree of respect. Even as children, when most siblings wrestled for dominance, Boruk had sensed that Raruk was different. He did not see the world the same way others did. While other Oruks acted on impulse, Raruk would pause—he would observe, he would understand.

  Boruk knew that if anyone could lead them through their ordeal, it would be his brother. And so, when Raruk spoke, Boruk obeyed, not out of fear or weakness, or submission, but out of trust and respect.

  At Boruk’s command, the others backed down without a word. Oruks value strength above all else, and the brothers, though among the youngest in the cn—with Raruk the st ever born—were among the very best.

  Boruk, with his sheer physical might, and Raruk, with his unorthodox, almost instinctive brilliance in battle.

  No one dared oppose them.

  "If you're so worried about something so weak, just say it is so, old one." remarked Raruk as he looked back at the elder, causing him to reel back in embarrassment.

  "Wha-- to be disrespected like this! I will not take this lightly--"

  "I won't bring it inside the great hall" Raruk interrupted, not minding the old Oruk.

  He surveyed those gathered around them. "You two prepare the nursery for the Direwolves, we'll bring it there."

  Hearing this, the old Oruk simply gritted his teeth and walked away.

  Raruk carefully cradled the creature, making sure to support the neck and head. It was incredibly soft --- Raruk could not help but think to himself.

  He brought the strange being to the nursery, a long domed structure carved into the side of the mountain itself, it was meant for pregnant Direwolves ---- a comfortable pce to give birth to its pups.

  Warmth greeted them inside—a make shift fire pit crackled between towering stone pilrs. Raruk motioned for a straw mat to be id near the hearth, and the human was set gently upon it.

  “Leave us” Raruk said firmly, gncing at the gathered elders. “Make sure none of the witnesses say anything to anyone, not until I say otherwise."

  There was silence, until one voice broke it.

  “What if it’s a spy?” grumbled one of the older Oruks, his tusks yellowed and cracked. “A spirit in disguise, meant to lure us into compcency before the next storm strikes.”

  Another added, “Or bait. Left behind to track the stronghold’s defenses. You’ve all heard what happened to the Southern cn, right?”

  Raruk knelt beside the fire, staring into the fmes, he knew exactly what it was, but he could not say anything.

  “It’s no spy. Look at it—it’s barely clinging to life. If it were bait, then whoever sent it is too desperate to be feared.” he said to ease their tension.

  Boruk grunted, crossing his arms. “You all heard him, let's wait until it wakes up, in the meantime make sure no one bbbers about this”

  The Oruks present looked at each other, their eyes filled with concern, distrust, and fear.

  "What are you waiting for?" Boruk snarled again, "Get to it!"

  Hearing this, the other Oruks scrambled to get out.

  Ordinarily, pcing blind trust in anyone would be a mistake—but after a lifetime among the Oruks, Raruk understood one truth above all: they follow orders without question, when given by one they respect. It wasn’t loyalty born of thought—it was instinct, bred into them like the fangs in their jaws. When commanded, they act.

  Now alone in the middle of the rge space, Raruk and Boruk loomed over the unconscious creature. They both observed it intently, its disheveled cloth, its shallow breathing.

  Raruk had no doubt in his mind, this was a human woman.

  Boruk took a rge barrel and pced it near the hearth. He sat down with a heavy grunt, the wood creaking under his weight. Resting his axe beside him, he leaned forward, arms on his knees, eyes locked on the still form of the human.

  “It's small,” he muttered. “You believe it actually crossed the Thunder Dome?"

  Raruk didn’t answer immediately. He crouched beside the woman again, brushing a few damp strands of hair from her face. Her skin was cold to the touch, her breathing shallow, but steady. He took off his cloak and gently draped it over her. For a long moment, the crackling of the fire was the only sound between them.

  “I can't say for sure.” Raruk said at st.

  His gaze lingered on the woman’s face. “But if it did come from across the sea… then maybe there’s still nd out there. Land untouched by rot. Land where life still clings.”

  Boruk tilted his head back and looked up at the stone ceiling of the nursery. “What will you do with it?”

  Raruk reached for a nearby basin, filled it with water from the barrel, and soaked a strip of cloth. He began to clean the salt and grime from her face with as much careful and methodical movements as his big burly hands could offer.

  “We let it rest for now” he said. “When it wakes, if it wakes, then we'll go from there."

  Boruk raised an eyebrow. “Our father won’t like that.”

  “He doesn’t have to like it,” Raruk replied quietly. “He's still establishing a base down south, it won't be till winter before he returns, we'll have dealt with this before that."

  Boruk let out a low chuckle. “You’re pying a dangerous game, brother.”

  “I know.”

  They sat in silence again, the firelight flickering across the stone walls, casting long shadows. Outside, the wind howled through the mountain passes, heralding the coming of winter.

  Boruk stood slowly, grabbing his axe and slinging it over his shoulder. “Well, you're not wrong, you know. If she came across the sea… then the world’s bigger than we thought.”

  He paused at the door, gncing back. “But bigger doesn’t always mean better.”

  Then he was gone, leaving Raruk alone in the dim warmth of the nursery. He stayed beside the fire, listening to the girl’s faint breathing, his thoughts churning like the sea she had crossed.

  Whatever she was—whoever she was—her arrival had changed everything.