Dav had expected a meeting chamber or at least a room—something marked, formal, acknowledged. A place where conversations like this were meant to happen.
Instead, Shaan led him down a sloping burrow corridor that smelled faintly of resin and damp stone. The ceiling dipped just enough to make Dav adjust his shoulders without being told. The walls were smooth, not freshly shaped but worn into obedience by generations of passage. Stone that had learned its purpose.
No guards walked with them. That alone told Dav this wasn't a performance.
They stopped where the tunnel widened into a three-way junction. Shaan crouched, one broad hand resting against the stone. His posture shifted—not defensive, not relaxed. Listening.
Dav waited.
"Here," Shaan said at last.
Dav felt nothing at first. No warning itch at the base of his skull. Just pressure. The same feeling you got stepping too close to another group's fire without meaning to. Not danger. Ownership.
"Approach zone?" Dav asked.
Shaan nodded. "Territory begins farther in. This is where the land starts paying attention."
Dav let that settle. "How far do you actively patrol?"
"Until the stone stops answering," Shaan said. "Beyond that, we listen only."
Dav glanced at the walls, the ceiling. The way the tunnel curved like it had grown instead of been carved. "And how do you tell when something's coming?"
Shaan's mouth curved faintly. "Beasts don't cross borders," he said. "They test them."
Dav frowned. "Meaning?"
"Noise is challenge," Shaan replied. "Silence is hunger."
The words landed heavier than Dav expected.
"Small beasts leaving at once," Shaan continued. "Birds abandoning nests. Insects going still. If the land empties itself, something is coming through."
Dav nodded slowly. "We've seen that. Thought it was coincidence."
Shaan's eyes flicked to him. "Coincidence kills scouts."
As they moved deeper, the air cooled, moisture beaded faintly along the walls and narrow vents far above threaded thin lines of wind through the stone.
"Your patrols?" Shaan asked.
"Rotating," Dav answered without hesitation. "No fixed routes. Line-of-sight discipline where possible. Night watch adapting—sound, vibration, smell. We're… learning."
"You rely on your eyes," Shaan said.
"Too much," Dav agreed.
They stopped beside a shallow alcove where pale scoring marks marred the stone—old, deliberate.
"Which beasts fake retreat?" Dav asked.
"Pack tacticians," Shaan replied. "Anything that learns from failure. If it pulls back cleanly, expect it to return smarter."
"And solo predators?"
"Less patient. More honest. Still deadly."
Dav exhaled. "Rank correlation?"
Shaan shook his head. "Rank does not always equal intelligence. Some high-rank beasts are simple forces. Some low-rank ones learn frighteningly fast."
He gestured at a half-crystallised stone rabbit embedded in the wall, mineral veins threading its body.
"Herbivores kill more people than carnivores," Shaan said.
Dav snorted quietly. "That's similar."
"Territorial beasts don't flee," Shaan continued. "They escalate. Injured beasts abandon caution entirely."
Dav filed that away, jaw tightening.
They climbed a narrow ramp cut into the stone and emerged briefly onto a high ledge overlooking a ravine. Cold air surged upward, carrying the smell of wet rock and something faintly metallic.
"What do you bring into beast fights?" Shaan asked.
"Too much," Dav said without softening it.
Shaan nodded once. "Over-committing kills. Controlled force survives."
He gestured toward the forest canopy far below. "Forests swallow formations, open ground tests stamina and Stone corridors amplify mistakes."
"When do you disengage?" Dav asked.
"When victory attracts worse things," Shaan replied. "A dead beast is a beacon, blood lingers longer than you think."
Then, without changing tone, he added, "Especially when the cold comes."
The air around the words shifted.
"Whitefreeze beasts do not behave like Sunrage beasts," Shaan continued. "Hunger compresses the world. Predators that would circle wide stop wasting steps."
Dav's eyes narrowed. "Waves?"
Shaan nodded once. "Not armies but desperation stacks. The first hunter drives prey toward you, the second smells blood and the third comes because the first two made noise."
"And the weak?" Dav asked.
"The weak become traps," Shaan said. "They scream, they move badly, They'll pull you into over-commitment and then the real predator arrives—fresh, patient, conserving strength."
Dav exhaled through his nose. "So winter is escalation."
"Whitefreeze is the season that teaches beasts to stop being polite," Shaan said.
Dav's mouth tightened. "Our training's wrong for this, too much 'hold the line.'"
"You must unlearn it." Shaan looked at him for a long moment, then spoke as if sharpening a blade. "Holding a line is for territory wars. Beasts are not offended by sacrifice, they are encouraged by it."
Dav's gaze flicked to the walls, the way the tunnels narrowed and widened like lungs. "So what replaces it?"
"Elastic defence," Shaan said. "You let them bite the edge. You do not panic, you give ground you have already decided to lose and you deny them a clean victory."
"Controlled retreat," Dav said.
"Controlled survival," Shaan corrected. "Retreat implies shame. This is doctrine."
He tapped the stone once. "If you must fight, fight where your people can breathe. If you must bleed, bleed where the blood can be cleaned. If you must run, run before the first scream—because the second scream is when the hungry ones arrive."
Dav felt the truth of it settle into muscle memory he didn't yet have.
"And when the wave hits?"
"Break it," Shaan said. "Not with strength, with confusion. Noise in one direction and silence in another. False fires, false trails, a beast that cannot read you loses its advantage."
Dav nodded once. "I can work with that."
They returned underground, descending into older tunnels where the walls felt… aware. Not hostile, just present.
"Entrances," Shaan said, stopping at a fork. "Never let beasts see your true one."
Dav glanced at the passages. "Territory boundaries—between clans. How close can we be before it becomes a problem?"
Shaan rested his hand against the stone again, as if checking a pulse. "Before Rank B, borders do not touch. They may press, but the land will not lock edge-to-edge. If it tries, something breaks—keystones crack, faith frays, beasts find the seam."
"So overlap isn't possible."
"Not cleanly," Shaan said. "Not yet. When you reach Rank B, territory may meet territory without tearing."
"Anyone nearby expanding?" Dav asked carefully.
Shaan's mouth curved, humour without warmth. "Most are preparing to survive. Expansion is arrogance in early winter."
He pointed subtly downward. "Only the South Forest Boars are pushing. Their deity feeds on motion and conquest."
Dav's jaw tightened. "Will they reach us?"
"No," Shaan said immediately. "They are not foolish enough to test a fresh keystone before winter."
"But they'll watch."
"Everything watches," Shaan said. "Some simply pretend they aren't."
Dav nodded.
"Fire underground?" he asked.
"Smoke travels," Shaan said. "Panic travels faster."
Then, quietly, "Something will test your mountain."
Dav didn't ask what. They walked on.
"Awakening," Dav said eventually. "Who first?"
"Leaders," Shaan replied. "Or no one."
"And warriors?"
"They follow," Shaan said. "Or they outgrow command."
"That's my fear."
"Awakened guards grow reckless," Shaan said. "Power reshapes hierarchy faster than discipline."
"How do you train mixed units?"
"Carefully," Shaan replied. "Uneven power breeds resentment."
They reached another junction where the air felt tight.
"Internal threats," Shaan said.
Dav stiffened.
"Fear shows itself first as impatience," Shaan continued. "Then blame. Then violence."
"Warning signs?"
"Isolation. Whispered grievances. Hoarding. People watching leaders instead of watching the land."
Dav swallowed.
"Most clans don't fall to beasts," Shaan said.
"They fall to hunger. Fear and each other," Dav finished.
"Yes," Shaan said. "The first blood is almost never the enemy's."
The mountain breathed around them.
"Justice," Dav said after a while. "How do you handle it?"
"Swiftly," Shaan replied. "Publicly."
"And exile?"
"Mercy or execution," Shaan said. "Depends where you leave them."
Earth law flickered through Dav's mind—process, intent, appeal. None of it fit.
"Hesitation invites repeat violence," Shaan added. "Especially in Whitefreeze."
They reached the end of the passage—a high overlook carved into the mountain's spine. Far away, mountain ridges marked Deepway's settlement.
Shaan stood beside him, massive and still.
No alliance offered or promises made, only an assessment. Could this man keep his people alive? Could he stop them from killing each other first?
"If things go wrong," Shaan said, "we will warn you."
Dav nodded. "We'll do the same."
They parted without ceremony. Dav walked back alone, the mountain's lessons settling heavy into his bones.