After a lengthy exploration of the expansive rye fields, Logan made his way back to the tribe. Instead of returning to his own abode, he veered towards the bustling animal pen.
Upon his arrival, he witnessed a procession of more than a hundred orc refugees being escorted by a squad of wolf cavalrymen. Curious, Logan learned from the riders that these survivors had been rescued from the eastern territories by their swift intervention.
In recent days, his ventures had been with Jane, mounted on the formidable lion scorpions, scouring the lands for those displaced by calamity. They had made it their mission to canvass the region, persuading other tribes to aid the destitute. Upon each return, Logan would update Kro with precise locations on the map where survivors lingered.
In response, Kro had dispatched the wolf cavalry to those coordinates to shepherd the refugees back to safety.
As Logan approached the animal pen, his presence quickly drew the attention of Kodiak, who rushed out to greet him with the deference due to a chieftain.
First, Logan headed straight to the wolf enclosure to reunite with Fenrir, his loyal companion he hadn't seen in over two weeks. His heart ached slightly, knowing he had neglected Fenrir amidst the chaos of rescue missions.
Spotting Fenrir lounging with the pack, Logan called out, "Come here!" But the warg, now glaring from a distance, remained stubbornly seated, unresponsive to his master's summons.
"Fenrir, come now, or I'll leave without you!" Logan's voice grew stern.
"Come over, you obstinate beast!"
Despite his efforts, Fenrir did not budge, his defiance thick in the air.
Kodiak, chuckling, broke the tension. "Fenrir has ascended to a fourth-level monster!"
Kodiak, who also shared a bond with a contracted warg, sympathized with Logan's plight. He suggested that Fenrir's newfound strength and his resentment over his master's absence had fueled his insolence.
"Ascended?" Logan queried, his interest piqued. Utilizing his tribal system to assess Fenrir, he confirmed the breakthrough. The once familiar creature before him had indeed transformed into a formidable fourth-level monster.
"Well, let's see how you handle this," muttered Logan, his voice a mix of irritation and amusement as he leaped into the enclosure.
Kodiak opened his mouth to counsel restraint, but Logan was already striding towards Fenrir with a determined glint in his eye.
He called out to Fenrir, "Come here!" The warg, chastened and submissive, approached with his tail tucked, a sign of his acquiescence.
As Fenrir neared, Logan conjured the remains of a thunderbird, laying it before the warg. "Eat," he commanded, a softer edge to his voice. "Consider this my apology for neglecting you these past weeks."
Fenrir, still processing his master's earlier display of power, hesitated only a moment before beginning to eat, the gesture from Logan bridging the gap between discipline and care.
Logan had successfully downed a second-level thunderbird after a tense chase, landing a fatal shot to its vital organs. However, the gluttonous Janeu wasted no time in claiming his share, deftly removing both of the bird's thighs and its six wings, and extracting the coveted second-level thunder magic core.
The remnants of the bird didn't go to waste; Airlan, the lion scorpion, devoured the other half with relish. Janeu had ambitiously proposed taking on a fifth-level peak thunderbird, but Logan sternly vetoed the idea.
They had narrowly escaped the perilous Black Wind Mountains; to return would be a reckless flirtation with death, especially since the bloodshed would undoubtedly attract other, possibly more formidable, monsters.
As Fenrir gnawed on the remains of the thunderbird, a burst of blood spattered the ground. The daily diet of dragon rats had grown monotonous, and the rich taste of thunderbird was a welcome change, reigniting memories of feasts back in Canyon City. His appetite was fierce, spurred by the novelty.
Kodiak, examining the carcass, noted that despite being only half a body, the thunderbird's distinctive head was intact. He pondered aloud, "Aren't thunderbirds usually gregarious? It's odd to find one isolated."
Unaware of Kodiak's musings, Logan observed the returning wolves, likely drawn by the scent of fresh blood. Noticing several new cubs unsteadily milling about, he inquired, "How are the pregnancies progressing in the pack?"
"The pack is thriving," Kodiak responded with a hint of pride. "The first litters from Fenrir's lineage are expected early next month."
"So soon?" Logan mused, calculating the days to the expected births. "That's less than three weeks away."
He reflected on the structure of the wolf packs under his care—the native Kava pack and the Fenrir pack he'd claimed from the Black Wind Mountains—both crucial to the tribe's security.
Shifting topics, Logan continued, "I want to check on the dragon rats and the rabbits. And you've been to the camp market twice recently, haven't you? What sort of creatures did you bring back?"
In their world, mundane animals were a rarity; even the most common beasts held a touch of magic. Though many magical creatures were akin to ordinary livestock in their limitations and utility, their management required knowledge and care that only those like Kodiak possessed.
"Chief, please, follow me!" Kodiak gestured, ready to lead Logan through the enclosures, sharing insights into the new acquisitions and the state of their ever-growing menagerie