Page 4 of Primal Vow

As Taryn made his way back towards the encampment, he couldn't help but steal furtive glances over his shoulder. Out here, among the towering mountains and ancient forests, he felt at peace. This was the true heart of their world, the realm where a Borraq's warrior spirit could roam free.

He would protect these lands with every fiber of his being, no matter the cost.

The humans had already taken too much from him. He would not allow them to take anything more.

"Taryn! You're done already?" When Taryn returned to the camp, his young charges greeted him with a mix of respect and eager excitement.

They were a good group of lads: Jorah, with his easy grin and quick wit; Krye, who was always the first to spot any movement in the wilderness; Worrak, who had a growing sense for strategy despite his brash exterior; and Soren, the youngest of the group, who was eager to prove himself.

They were a handful, but Taryn wouldn't have traded them for anything. In their youthful overconfidence, he saw echoes of every Borraq warrior who had come before them. They were the future of the clan.

And besides, they kept things interesting. As they prepared for their daily patrol, the air was filled with their banter. "I bet I could take down a karantha with just my dagger," Jorah boasted. "Two, even."

Krye rolled his eyes. "Yeah, good luck getting close enough to one to actually use your dagger. But I'll have already put an arrow through its eye by the time you get within a hundred paces!"

"Enough boasting," Taryn said, though his lips twitched with the effort to keep a straight face. "The karantha are necessary for the forest. It's not our place to seek out conflict with them. We're here to protect the land from any outside threats that might come to harm them, not to act as hunters."

"Aww, come on," Jorah said with a grin. "You're no fun, Taryn."

Taryn watched his warriors as they chattered and teased each other, a fond smile playing at his lips. They were a good group. Under his command, they would grow into fine warriors. They already had the raw materials of strength and skill; it was just a matter of honing that, teaching them when to act and when to hold back, guiding them as they matured into their roles.

As they set out into the wilderness, Taryn kept his eyes on his charges. Jorah was quick to boast and quicker to laugh, always the first to break the silence with a joke. Krye rolled his eyes at Jorah's antics, but a small smile tugged at his lips. He was a good boy, with a keen eye for the wilderness. Soren was thoughtful, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he considered strategies. Worrak was the most eager of the group, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement at the day's adventure.

The deep, ancient heart of the clan's territory was a place of peace. Out here, there were no enemies to face, no battles to fight. It was the perfect training ground. Here, the young warriors could learn to track any creature that dared to threaten the clan's lands, to identify any potential foes, to understand the lay of the land and the creatures that called it home.

Here, they could learn to be true guardians of the land.

Taryn wasn't expecting any real danger on this mission. The lands were deep and wild, yes, full of creatures that could be deadly to an unprepared traveler — but nothing out of the ordinary. The truly most dangerous things on the planet were Borraq without clans, but those bounty hunters and lone wolves preferred sulking around outposts and cities, looking for cheap thrills and easy marks instead of trekking through deep jungle.

It was just a simple quest for training, that was all. A time to be spent in the heart of the wilderness, far from the encampment, far from clan politics and the weight of Taryn's own personal frustrations.

A time for peace.

Taryn frowned as he looked at a set of broken branches, the leaves around them crushed. It was a thick, sturdy tree, its branches not easily bent. Whatever had passed through here had done so with force.

The young warriors didn't notice anything amiss. They were too busy laughing and joking, their eyes looking for excitement, not tracks.

Taryn's hand tightened on the hilt of his blade. "Pause."

Despite their chatter, the boys were well-trained. They fell silent and turned to face him, their eyes expectant.

He pointed at the disturbed tree. "Look here. The branches are broken, and the leaves around them are crushed. Whatever passed through here did so with force."

The young warriors inspected the site, their faces thoughtful. "It's not a zytha's trail," Krye said. "I don't see any tracks."

Soren looked annoyed, like Taryn was teasing him with a too-hard riddle. "I give up. What made it?"

"I don't know," Taryn said.

Then they all heard it: the distant, unmistakable sound of machinery.

Chapter three

It was something foreign, something that didn't belong in the deep heart of the Borraq's territory. The noise was faint, carried on the wind, but there was no mistaking the harsh grinding of gears, the deep thrum of some kind of engine.

Taryn's instincts hummed to life. He didn't know what this threat was, but he knew that he had to investigate. Whatever foreign presence was in the clan's lands, it was his duty to root it out and protect the people under his charge.

The young warriors looked up at him, their faces a mix of excitement and growing unease. This was it — a real test, a moment when they had to act like true guardians.

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