Back at the hunting grounds, the situation had devolved past negotiation into something far more dangerous.
The clearing was silent except for harsh breathing and the distant sound of flies swarming over beetle corpses. Twelve people stood in formations that pointed clearly to Imminent violence, their faces carrying expressions that made it abundantly clear this wasn't posturing. These weren't kids playing at being soldiers anymore. These were recruits who'd crossed some invisible line in their heads and decided that killing each other was an acceptable solution to their problem.
The six reds who'd been sent to harvest cores stood in a loose defensive cluster near the largest beetle carcass, their weapons drawn but their postures uncertain. They hadn't expected to be caught, hadn't planned for confrontation, and the fear in their eyes warred with desperation as they tried to figure out how this didn't end with them dead or expelled.
