Without further delay, the Lycans threw themselves at the Kitsune. The fight began with force. The Kitsune used their lightning attribute to boost their movements. Their bodies became fast as lightning, they dodged the blows and struck back with precision. The foxes’ claws lacerated the air and sometimes hit the flanks of the Lycans. Blood flowed, but the wounds remained superficial.

The Patriarch stayed near the child. He launched a few powerful claw attacks toward a Kitsune that was approaching too closely. His blows split the air with a sharp sound. The Kitsune avoided the first strike thanks to a lightning movement, but the second hit it in the shoulder and made it retreat. Van did not move away from the boy. He protected his position without taking his eyes off the little human.

The boy, huddled against the rough bark of a giant tree, observed the scene.

Suddenly, a Lycan with erect ears and a thick gray tail appeared near the chief, emerging from a bramble bush with surprising agility.

"Patriarch... the Kitsune have taken flight..." he said in a hoarse voice, while wiping his claws.

"Tss..." the chief clicked his tongue against his palate, a sign of annoyance. He cast one last glance toward the direction where the last survivors of the fox clan were disappearing into the shadows of the canopy, before lowering his eyes toward the child. "Leave them... we have other things to do..."

"Alright..." agreed the Lycan, who bowed slightly before turning around to rejoin the other members of the pack who were starting to strip the corpses.

Silence returned little by little, disturbed only by the crackling of the leaves and the short breath of the child. Van slowly crouched down, so as not to frighten the little human creature any further. Despite his intimidating stature, his aura became calmer, almost protective.

"Tell me little human... what are you doing alone here...?" asked the Patriarch, his voice now a low growl but devoid of hostility.

The boy opened his mouth, but no sound came out at first. He seemed to be searching for words at the bottom of an empty well. He finally murmured, his voice trembling:

"Euhh... I don’t really remember... when I woke up... I found myself here..."

No memory? It’s strange for a human to be abandoned so deep in the lands of Arcadia. thought Van while observing the unusual features of the child.

"Hmmm... I see... memory loss..." murmured the chief, understanding the situation after analyzing the sincere confusion that could be read in the little one’s gaze.

The child shook his head from left to right to confirm his words. He knew neither who he was, nor how he had arrived there, nor even why he was all alone.

The Patriarch slowly straightened up. He crossed his massive arms over his chest. His eyes observed the child. Unlike the Kitsune, who considered humans as cumbersome parasites and eliminated them without the slightest hesitation, the Lycans of his tribe had developed a very different vision of the world.

"So... does it appeal to you to come with us?"

The chief’s proposal took the child by surprise. The Patriarch crouched down to get to his level, a gesture that seemed almost impossible for a being of this size.

"Unlike those bastard Kitsune," continued the Patriarch while pointing with a movement of his chin at the bodies lying farther away, "for us, all races are equal."

The boy opened his mouth, but no sound came out of it. His silver eyes were fixed on the crescent moon engraved on the Patriarch’s forehead.

He felt his stomach twist under the effect of hunger, and his legs began to tremble. He knew, deep down, that he had no other way out. If he stayed alone in this forest populated by hungry creatures and invisible dangers, he would not survive the night. The presence of this wolf-man, although terrifying, represented his only chance to see the next day.

"..."

The silence stretched, heavy with all the fears that the child did not dare to express. He finally lowered his eyes, contemplating his small dirty hands scratched by the forest brambles. Red scratches covered his fingers, and under his nails, dirt had become embedded.

"Thank you..." he murmured at last, his voice barely louder than a breath.

The chief of the Lycans, seeing that the little human accepted his proposal without resistance, let out a wide smile that revealed his sharp fangs. The orphan, despite all his mistrust, could not help but feel a strange warmth upon seeing this expression.

The Patriarch extended his massive hand toward the child. His claws slowly retracted into his fingers. The Patriarch’s skin was dotted with scars, some old, others more recent, testifying to the battles he had led to keep his tribe alive. But in this open palm, there was no threat.

"Van," he said while introducing himself, his deep voice resonating like a distant roll of thunder. "I am Patriarch Van. And from today onward, you are under my protection."

The child hesitated one last time. He looked at the forest behind him, where the shadows were thickening dangerously. He heard the cry of a nocturnal bird and the furtive rustling of a rodent in the dead leaves. Then he brought his gaze back to the extended hand.

He extended his small trembling hand. His fingers rested on the rough palm of the lycan. Van’s grip was warm, incredibly warm.

Around them, the other Lycans had drawn closer, forming a protective circle. Their eyes, of all possible colors, observed this new recruit with undisguised curiosity. Some tilted their heads, as if intrigued by an unusual prey, while others exchanged questioning glances. A young she-wolf with drooping ears even approached to sniff the boy’s scent, then retreated while wagging her tail, apparently satisfied.

"With all this agitation, we’re going to end up attracting the scavengers," grumbled a lycan with black fur and yellow eyes. He held his still bloodied sword against his shoulder. "Are you sure about this, Van? A human, in the tribe? It’s the first time we’ve done this."

The Patriarch straightened up, lifting the child with disconcerting ease. He placed him on his broad shoulder, where the boy immediately clung to the tufts of fur so as not to fall. From this height, he dominated the clearing and could see the bodies of the Kitsune lying in the grass.

"On the way!" ordered Van to his men, his voice carrying above the wind. "We have already wasted enough time with this red vermin."