There was a buzzing in his ear. Low sounding whispers plagued his hearing perception. The monotonous mumbles felt like drums banging on his head, becoming more apparent as it went on. Finally, the murmurs slowly became more audible. He could hear distinct voices of people, his people. The people he left behind and perished.

"Brother Urfaal! Brother Urfaal!" He felt tiny hands pushing against his face. "Brother Urfaal wake up! We're going for the hunt!"

"Sarador, it's too early!" He tried to swipe the hand from his face, but nothing was there.

The beastman opened his eyes and saw the clear blue sky framed on the small opening of the tent. He looked around and saw no one but him inside the cold small space of the tent.

He tried moving but a sharp pain stabbed his ribs. He grunted in pain, but his throat jolted a wave of pain too. The beastman was in a world of hurt and he couldn't recall why. Suddenly his body began to chorus with the pain albeit in varying degree, everywhere hurts and he cannot fathom why.

He opted to stay still and breathe through the intense pain, clutching the side of the bed to help him deal with the hurt. Later, the pain became more manageable but the beastman chose to stay still just to avoid those jolts of unwanted aches.

He looked at the ceiling again and noticed how different it was from the colors he saw at the infirmary. He knew something was different, but he couldn't put a finger to it. Outside he could hear horses and wagons passing through. The horses neighed while the people outside cursed every now and again. He could hear clanking metal as the men walked. It was different from the ones in the camp, this felt heavier.

A few moments later, a young knight entered his tent. The moment their eyes met; the knight ran away. The beastman wanted to call out to him but his throat proved difficult for him to raise his voice. He stared at the ceiling once again. He stared through the small opening where he could see the clear blue sky.

The cloudless sky reminded him of his home. The southernmost edge of the Vridian Forest where his tribe had lived and hunted for over thousands of years. Unlike the rest of the forests, the southernmost part had smaller trees compared to the rest of Vridian domain.

The trees in the southernmost parts were not as tall as the colossal red trees of the rest of the forest. This made it brighter during the day when the sun peaked through the sky and beautiful during the night when the Lady Moon shined along with the stars.

The great blue canvass made him remember his memories of the Vridian skies. A sky that never gloomed. He remembered growing under its beautiful hue and hunting under its guidance.

The beastman have longed to return to his home. He prayed for it for so long until he realized that his prayer would come unanswered—that was until 132-X came along. The moment he saw the human slave, he felt a fire lit inside of him. A hunger that couldn't be satiated just by living. In his eyes he saw an ambition bigger than the rest of them. He saw freedom in his eyes.

The beastman felt his intensity to be free and saw what lengths he would go through to make it into a reality. 132-X became his beacon of hope. That's what lit the fire inside him. That's what made him cling onto the rope for him. That's what made him sacrifice himself to save him. The timid beastman saw someone he could follow and die for. A kind of resolve that was only worth giving to their tribal chieftain.

His thoughts were temporarily interrupted by the commotion outside. He could hear heavy footsteps rushing towards his tent. The weakened beastman couldn't help but close his eyes, his body had already failed him once, this time might be his end.

"Thank the gods you're awake." Tristam approached him clad in plated armor. "Your wounds have healed fine!"

"Good Ser…cough." The beastman's throat gave him a difficult time speaking. "W-what's going on." His pain radiated from the gruffness of his voice.

Tristam looked at him with pity and hesitantly answered. "Something happened in the camp while you were unconscious."

The beastman's eyes widened, he couldn't imagine what type of horror his comrades had to go through while he was asleep. His chest tightened and he couldn't breathe. His vision spun into a swirling chaotic barrage of distorted shapes and fading colors.

Tristam held his hand, "Beastman, listen to me!"

He never heard it. He never felt his hand. There was only a deafening silence. Despair was brewing inside of him. The swirled images of the room went black and his mind faded into the darkness. Tristam's voice echoed incomprehensively on his ear.

The darkness turned into a bright yellow sunshine in the great blue sky. He was back again at his home, along with his sleuth. He recalled this moment well; it was his first hunt.

"Urfaal," The leader whispered. "You see that titanauroch? Gorembar will distract it. While you, follow me and Varrec for the slay."

Urfaal felt his body shake with anxiety. It was his first hunt, and he hadn't seen a titanauroch that big as it was. He raised his spear and slowly creeped behind the unsuspecting creature grazing along a clearing. He took a step to the right as signaled by their hunt leader. As he softly stepped, his foot unfortunately landed on a twig on the ground. Unaware of the twig, he shifted his weight and pressed on his position. Suddenly, it snapped.

The animal lifted its head and ran away. The sleuth of hunters rattled over the scene, but the hunt leader kept calm and reevaluated their strategy on the spot. The beastmen began chasing the creature, using their agility and strength in pursuing the creature. The pursuers jumped from tree to tree while the hunters ran alongside the animal until they caught up with it. They rode on its horns to slow it down until finally their violent wrestling match came to an end—the titanaurouch lying on the ground exhausted.

The hunt leader asked Urfaal to kill the animal to honor the tribe. The hulking leader gave the knife to the young beastman and asked him to say the prayer and end the miserable creature's life.

Urfaal hesitantly took the knife from the leader's hand and went to the monstrous bovine who panted heavily while frothing on the mouth.

"O-oh, M-mother…" He tried to stop his voice from trembling. "Let your sons relish the boon of the land you—"

The beastman and the bovine's eye met. As Urfaal lifted the dagger over his head, the bovine produced a sad bellow as if it knew that it was his end. The beastman tried to ignore its gaze but he couldn't.

It took him two attempts in lifting the knife but his heart couldn't take it. He pitied the animal so much he dropped the knife to the ground.

"I-I can't do it." He kneeled down and patted the animal. "Maybe we have to let him go. He has—"

The hunt leader immediately hit him hard on the face. "You're a disgrace, brother! You just spat on our traditions!" The hunt leader grabbed the knife on the ground and did the killing by himself.

Later that night, after an insurmountable amount of scolding and humiliation from the hunt leader, Urfaal was tasked to dispose the titanauroch's entrails. This task was given to the lowest ranking member of the hunting party or sleuth. However, since he disgraced the tribal chief's name, it was given to him as his task.

The entrails are usually disposed an ild wyrm distance from the perimeter of the tent to avoid other wild animals from being attracted to the boon they have. The entrails are usually buried at the place where the wind blew away from the camp.

It was a tedious process that needed a lot patience, since the disposer must wait for the wind to blow and position the burial strategically deep and away from another other contacts as possible.

After disposing it, he was then tasked to guard the hunters as they sleep for the entire night. Normally, the look-out would have a 3-hour shifting time. But on his case, he took the full night alone to contemplate on his actions.

He opened his eyes to the sound of clanging iron. The same sound he heard that same night he failed his tribe. The night that got his sleuth massacred. The tent was already dim. The sky changed its shade to crimson as streaks of darkness swallowed its light.

By his side was Tristam, asleep. The young knight proved to be well-disciplined. Even with the plate armor clad on him, he managed to sit straight, his arms placed on his lap, and feet flat on the ground while sleeping.

The beastman tried to sit but the pain proved to be unbearable as he exerted force. He grunted in pain once again.

"Don't move, ser." The knight gently held him back. "Don't move, please."

"W-what happened to them?" The beastman's tears welled on his eyes, hoping to hear relieving news. But he doubted. "Are they—"

"You can put your worries to rest, ser," Tristam patted his chest gently, "They are fine and alive."

The beastman could sense something was wrong. He could smell it from his scent.

"Liar." He grabbed his arm and yanked Tristam towards him. "Tell me, what truly happened to them…please!"

Tristam's hand shook. He could see it from the young knight's face a look of frustration and bit his lip trying to withhold crucial information from him.

The beastman pushed him away so hard, Tristam stumbled to the ground. His wounds ached so much it became difficult for him to breath but he's having none of it. He's a Meh-Teh, a child of the earth and a son of Ulfasaar of the Ursine Clan.

"Pain is nothing to be felt especially when your family needs you!" He gritted his teeth and bared his fangs as he arose from his bed despite the torment of pain on his body. "You are the earth that the Mother Moon had blessed. You are her son and her groom. You are her protector!"

Those were the words his father used to tell him as he was growing up. The same words his kin sung as the crimson horde came charging towards them. The words he regretted not saying that day, now he uttered them loud and proud. As he took every painful step towards the exit.

Tristam saw the agony on his face and held him by the arm, "Where are you going?"

The beastman yanked away his arm, "Where are they? I would like to see them!"

The knight didn't answer.

The beastman took it as a sign of cowardice. He took another step, but his world began to spin once more. His body wobbled and he almost lost his balance. Good thing Tristam was attentive enough to catch him before he dropped to the ground.

"Don't be reckless ple—" the knight sincerely begged.

"I need to see them! It was my fault! I couldn't protect them!" The beastman's voice broke as his despair surfaced.

Tristam saw the distraught in the beastman's eyes. He knew fully well that he was instructed not to get the four slaves to meet-up, but it looked like he would be defying that, for the sake of them.

The knight made himself the beastman's support and offered a hand for him. "Come then, let me get you to where they are." He said.

"I'll explain to you what happened on the way as well." Tristam said as he opened the tent flaps.