CHAPTER 60: CHAPTER 59

The Next Morning

"Any news about the village I told you to keep watch? Any monster sightings or bandit activity?" Lumberling asked as he ate breakfast at the table with Skitz. Jen and Old Man Dan’s ears perked up at the question.

"The golden eagle scouts haven’t reported anything unusual, my Lord," Skitz replied calmly.

Jen leaned forward. "How about Aunt Celine? Is she okay?"

Despite the brief time they’d spent together, it was clear Jen had grown attached.

"We’ve been keeping an eye on them too. I promise—they’re safe," Skitz answered with a reassuring smile.

Lumberling glanced toward the direction of Uncle Drake’s village. He wouldn’t let himself be caught off guard again.

.....

Later That Day

After wrapping up his morning training with Jen, one of the vice-captains, Karnark, came rushing up, eyes wide with excitement.

"My Lord, good news—the Dire Wolf has given birth!" he exclaimed.

"Show me," Lumberling said, immediately rising.

They made their way to the small wooden shelter they had built for the wolf. It wasn’t lavish, but it was safe, warm, and clean—comfortable enough for a recovering beast and her litter.

Jen, who had been sitting nearby drinking water, tilted her head. Then quietly followed them, curiosity shining in her eyes.

Inside the shelter, the air was warm with the scent of hay, damp fur, and something faintly metallic—blood, recent but clean. Soft straw rustled underfoot as Lumberling stepped inside, his shadow stretching across the floor.

The mother wolf lay nestled in a bed of straw, her breathing calm. Six tiny pups suckled quietly at her belly. She snarled softly as they approached—but when her eyes met Lumberling’s, something shifted. Recognition. She knew him—the one who healed her, the one who spared her.

Lumberling crouched slowly, gaze settling on the newborns. He reached out instinctively.

But the moment his hand reached out, her body stiffened.

The wolf’s hackles bristled. Her lips curled. For a heartbeat, even the pups paused. Tension snapped through the air like a bowstring.

A low growl rumbled in the mother’s throat, her lips pulling back to reveal sharp fangs.

"My Lord—please don’t touch the pups yet," Karnark said, stepping forward with a serious tone.

Lumberling raised a brow. "Why not?"

"She just gave birth. She may recognize you, but she’s still protecting her young. Even the tamest beast can turn feral if it thinks its cubs are threatened. Please... give her time."

Lumberling didn’t argue. Instead, he watched her with curiosity and respect. Karnark’s words weren’t just right—they were impressive.

"You’ve learned a lot," he said, glancing at the kobold.

Karnark gave a quiet smile, then turned his eyes to the wolf.

"I... I’ve always been good with animals," he said softly. "Even before I evolved. Back in the wilds, I used to help wounded birds and foxes. Other kobolds laughed. They said I should’ve been born a beast myself."

A pause.

"But monsters... animals... they don’t lie. If they like you, they show it. If they fear you, they show it. It’s simple. It’s honest."

Karnark continued. "Also, I’ve been the one caring for her for quite a while. She’s calmer now, more trusting. I guess... I just started to understand her."

Lumberling studied the kobold. His grip on duty had grown firm. His tone no longer wavered. Not long ago, Karnark could barely lead a patrol. Now he was earning the trust of a beast most would fear.

He placed a firm hand on Karnark’s shoulder.

"From now on, I want you in charge of the mother and her cubs. Care for them. Train them. Integrate them into the village. Think you can handle that?"

Karnark froze for a moment, stunned. But then he turned toward the wolf, then back to his Lord, eyes full of purpose.

"I can do it, my Lord. No—I will do it."

"Then they’re yours to raise," Lumberling said with a nod. "Make them part of our family."

"I’ll do it, my Lord. I swear it."

Karnark saluted. He stepped closer to the wolf, who met his gaze with a cautious but curious look.

Behind them, the soft sound of a foot scuffing dirt made them turn. Jen stood in the doorway, eyes wide with wonder as she stared at the mother wolf and her pups.

"Is that... a baby wolf?" she whispered, stepping closer.

The mother’s growl returned, sharper this time, and Karnark raised a hand quickly.

"Easy. Not yet."

Jen backed up, nodding. "She’s protecting them..."

"She is," Karnark said with a gentle smile. "But one day, if we raise them right, they’ll protect us, too."

Lumberling gave her a look. "What are you doing here?"

"I followed you," she admitted, then lowered her voice. "I wanted to see what you were excited about."

He sighed. "Come. Let’s not crowd them."

As Lumberling turned to leave, Karnark knelt beside the mother wolf and met her gaze. His voice was calm, low.

"Since you’re my responsibility now... you’ll need a name. I’ll call you Lunira."

The wolf didn’t snarl this time. In fact, she let her head rest against the hay, her eyes flicking once toward Karnark—accepting.

Lumberling smiled faintly as he walked away.

"He’s not just good with animals," he muttered to himself. "He’s meant for this."

Then, quietly, he left them to it.

.....

Afternoon – Goblin Village

The goblin village murmured with quiet life, torches flickering as dusk began its crawl over the treetops. But inside the workshop, the forge’s light danced with wild energy, casting long shadows against the wooden walls.

Sparks hissed as Lumberling set the final iron band into place.

On the workbench rested a beast-shaped warhorn—long, wide-mouthed, carved from ashwood and iron. Its bell took the form of a snarling wolf, jaws open mid-howl. The interior was sanded smooth, reinforced with curved leather ribs to funnel sound forward like a hunting cry through the hills.

Zarn and Tarnix stood beside him, coated in sawdust and sweat, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"What does it do again?" Zarn asked, tilting his head.

Lumberling ran a hand down the carved jawline. "You don’t blow into it. You roar into it. It takes your voice—twists it. Makes it sound like something no sane creature wants to face."

Tarnix blinked. "Like goblins?"

Lumberling gave a dry smile. "Worse."

Outside, the air had cooled. Goblin sentries watched from the ridgeline. The trees stood still, as if listening.

Lumberling stepped into the clearing and slung the horn over his shoulder. Then he planted his feet, inhaled deep, and gripped the mouthpiece.

He roared.

"RAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The sound ripped through the horn and transformed—deeper, monstrous, part-bear, part-orc. It rolled like thunder, shrieking with fury, echoing off cliffs and cracking through the trees.

Birds exploded from the canopy. Goblins dropped tools and scrambled for weapons. Zarn toppled backward off his stool. The forge’s fire itself seemed to hesitate.

Within moments, captains arrived at a sprint. Grokk was among them, axe raised, eyes wide.

"My Lord—what happened?!"

"At ease," Lumberling said, voice rough from the effort. "False alarm. Just a test."

The captains exchanged wary glances before nodding and dispersing.

Tarnix stepped forward, stunned. "That... wasn’t a goblin."

Zarn picked himself up, clutching his chest. "I thought the forest trolls came to finish us off!"

Lumberling lowered the horn, wiped sweat from his brow, and grinned.

"Then it works."

With everything in place, there was nothing left to do.

The preparations were complete.

Now, it was time to face the bears.