"The Harvest has begun? That's usually a time for festivals and too much cider back home, not four-armed shadow-queens pointing fingers of doom at me," Robin muttered, his voice shaking just enough to be noticeable. He stood behind Lunara, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
Lunara didn't look back, but her tail gave a sharp, reassuring flick that brushed against his thigh. "Different world, different harvest, Robin. Here, if you aren't the one picking the fruit, you're usually the one being squeezed for the juice." She turned her head, her golden eyes scanning the ridgeline where the dark figure had stood. The woman was gone, leaving nothing but a lingering sense of cold that made the lush garden feel like a tomb. "Mina! Move! Get to the Shaman. Now!"
Mina didn't need to be told twice. The floppy-eared girl scrambled up, her robes catching on a thorn bush for a split second before she tore herself free. She looked at Robin, her green eyes wide and watery. "Please don't let the trees burn, Robin. They like your walking water. They're finally happy."
"I'll do my best, Mina. Just get somewhere safe," Robin promised. He watched her sprint toward the village, her short tail a blur of brown fur.
Once she was gone, the silence of the garden felt heavy. Lunara turned to Robin. The fierce protector was there, but as her gaze softened, she looked more like the woman who had shared her fruit and her tail-warmth just an hour ago. She stepped close, her height once again making him feel small, but her hands—large, clawed, and capable of snapping bone—reached out to grip his shoulders with a surprising, feminine gentleness.
"Are you afraid?" she asked, her voice a low, vibrating hum.
"Terrified," Robin admitted honestly. "I'm a builder, Lunara. I build fences and pipes. I don't fight four-armed spider-ladies."
"You don't have to," she whispered, her thumb brushing against the base of his neck, a gesture that sent a jolt of heat through him. "You provide the ground we stand on. I provide the teeth. But to do that, I need you to be focused. No more shaking."
She leaned in, her nose brushing against his ear. He could smell the mint from the garden and the musk of her fur. "If we survive the night, I might even let you see how a Lunawolf celebrates a successful hunt. And trust me, it's much more interesting than building a pipe."
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[BOND LEVEL: LUNARA 27% (HEART-STIRRED)]
[TRAIT GAINED: 'CALM UNDER PRESSURE' – REDUCED STAMINA DEPLETION DURING CRISIS EVENTS.]
Robin swallowed hard, his face heating up. "Is that... is that a promise or a threat?"
Lunara pulled back, a wicked, feminine smirk playing on her lips. "A bit of both, little star. Now, run. We have to reach the center of the village before the first brood drops."
The return to the village was a blur of adrenaline. As they crossed the threshold of the South Fence—the one Robin had just fixed—he noticed something chilling. The leather straps he had tied with such care were vibrating. Not from the wind, but from a high-frequency hum that seemed to come from the wood itself.
"They're already here," Lunara hissed.
The village wasn't in chaos, but it was tense. Chief Fenris stood in the center of the plaza, his massive greataxe glowing with a dull, red mana. Warriors were taking positions on the roofs of the bone-tents, their bows notched with arrows tipped in moonlight-oil.
"Lunara! To the western flank!" Fenris roared. "The scouts report movement in the canopy!"
"Robin, to my yurt!" Lunara commanded. "There's a chest in the back. It contains the moonlight-flasks. Fetch them and bring them to the western gate. If they try to swarm, we need the fire!"
Robin nodded, sprinting toward the large tent they had shared. He ducked inside, the smell of woodsmoke and Lunara's scent hitting him like a physical wave. He scrambled to the back, past the furs where they had slept. He found the chest—a heavy thing made of dark ironwood—and flung it open.
Inside were glass flasks filled with a swirling, silver liquid. But as he reached for them, a shadow fell across the entrance of the yurt.
Robin froze. He turned slowly.
Standing in the doorway was a creature that looked like a man made of obsidian glass. It was slender, with long, spindly limbs and no face—only a single, vertical slit that pulsed with a purple light. It wasn't the Weaver's Hand from the cliff, but one of her "Brood."
[TARGET IDENTIFIED: VOID-WALKER (SCRAPPER)]
[THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE]
The creature hissed, a sound like a wet violin string snapping. It lunged.
Robin didn't have a weapon. He didn't have Lunara. But he had the chest.
He didn't think; he grabbed a heavy, bone-handled sharpening stone from the table and hurled it at the creature's glowing slit. It was a lucky shot. The stone slammed into the purple light, and the creature recoiled, screeching.
Robin seized the moment. He grabbed two of the moonlight-flasks and sprinted toward the creature, sliding between its spindly legs like he was stealing second base. He burst out of the yurt, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Lunara! Behind you!"
Lunara was already turning. She saw the Void-walker emerging from her tent and let out a roar that shook the very air. She didn't use her spear. She leaped, her powerful legs carrying her ten feet through the air. She slammed into the creature, her claws digging into its obsidian skin. With a savage twist of her body, she literally tore the creature's head from its shoulders.
She stood over the dissolving remains, her chest heaving, her eyes wild and golden. She looked at Robin, who was still on the ground, clutching the flasks to his chest.
"You... you used my whetstone?" she panted, a look of utter disbelief on her face.
"It was the heaviest thing within reach!" Robin yelled back, his adrenaline finally peaking.
Lunara started to laugh—a sharp, fierce sound. She walked over, leaning down to grab his hand and hauling him to his feet. In the heat of the moment, she pulled him close, her body pressed against his. He could feel the hardness of her abs and the frantic beat of her heart.
"You are the strangest human I have ever met," she whispered, her face inches from his. She glanced down at his lips, her tail wrapping firmly around his waist, pulling him even tighter. The danger was all around them, but for a second, the world was just the two of them. "Don't die, Robin. I'm starting to think I'd be very bored without you."
She gave him a quick, bruising kiss on the cheek—a mark of ownership in the tribe—before spinning him around and shoving him toward the gate. "Now, give those flasks to the archers! Move!"
The battle for the village was a nightmare of silver and shadow. The Void-walkers didn't come in a wave; they came from everywhere. They dropped from the trees, they crawled out of the shadows of the tents, and they squeezed through the gaps in the bone-walls.
Robin found himself acting as a mobile supply unit. He ran between the storage tents and the front lines, dodging spindly limbs and hissing mists. The system was pinging constantly.
[SKILL LEVEL UP: CALM UNDER PRESSURE (LEVEL 2)]
[BOND INCREASE: LUNARA 30% (PROTECTOR/SPOUSE-CANDIDATE)]
[BOND INCREASE: MINA 20% (INSPIRATION)]
He reached the western gate just as a group of hunters was being pushed back. Lunara was there, her spear a blur of silver light, but she was being surrounded by four of the obsidian creatures.
"The flasks!" Robin shouted. He threw one of the silver bottles into the air, aiming for the space in the middle of the monsters.
Lunara saw it. Mid-swing, she shifted her grip on her spear and batted the flask like a baseball. The glass shattered against the chest of the lead Void-walker.
A brilliant, cold explosion of moonlight-fire erupted. The silver flames didn't burn like normal fire; they seemed to erase the shadows. The creatures shrieked as their obsidian bodies cracked and turned to ash.
"Nice throw, Robin!" one of the hunters yelled, a wolf-woman with a wide grin and a missing ear.
By midnight, the attack had slowed. The "First Brood" had been repelled, but the village was scarred. Several tents were smoldering with purple embers, and a few warriors were being carried toward the Shaman's Garden for healing.
Robin sat on a crate near the central fire, his hands shaking as the adrenaline began to fade. He was covered in soot, black ichor, and sweat.
"Hey."
He looked up. Lunara was standing there. She looked exhausted. Her armor was cracked, and a shallow cut ran down her shoulder, her blue blood staining the leather. But she was smiling.
"We held," she said, sitting down next to him. She didn't care about personal space; she leaned her entire weight against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Her silver hair was a mess, and she smelled of smoke and iron.
"Are you okay?" Robin asked, looking at the wound on her shoulder.
"I've had worse from a playful pup," she dismissed it, though she winced slightly. "But my muscles... they're locking up. The Void-venom in the air makes everything stiff."
She looked at him, her golden eyes heavy with exhaustion and something else. "Robin... in my yurt, there is a bowl of spirit-salve. Mina made it. It needs to be rubbed into the muscles to stop the stiffness. But I can't reach my own back, and the healers are busy with the wounded."
Robin blinked. "You... you want me to do it?"
Lunara shifted, her tail curling around her legs. "You're my squire, aren't you? And you have those 'clever hands.' Besides..." She leaned in, her voice a sultry whisper. "I don't think I'd trust anyone else to touch me right now. I'm a bit... sensitive after a fight."
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[NEW SUB-QUEST: THE ALPHA'S RELIEF]
[OBJECTIVE: ASSIST LUNARA WITH HER RECOVERY.]
[REWARD: ???]
The atmosphere in the yurt was vastly different now. The fire had been rebuilt, casting a warm, flickering orange glow across the furs. Outside, the village was quiet, the only sounds the occasional crackle of a torch or the distant howl of a sentry.
Lunara sat on the edge of the large bed-pile, her back to Robin. She had removed her tunic, draped only in a thin, silk-like cloth that she held against her chest. Her back was a map of power—lean, rippling muscles, silver-furred along the spine, and the elegant curve of her shoulder blades.
Robin sat behind her, the bowl of green, glowing salve in his hands. He was incredibly aware of how quiet it was. And how close she was.
"Well?" Lunara teased, looking back over her shoulder. Her ears were pink at the tips. "Are you going to stare at me all night, or are you going to help your lady?"
"I'm... I'm going," Robin stammered. He scooped up a dollop of the salve. It was cool and smelled of eucalyptus.
He touched her skin.
Lunara let out a sharp, hitching gasp, her entire body tensing. "Your hands... they're so warm."
"Sorry," Robin whispered, his heart thumping in his ears.
"Don't be sorry. Just... don't stop."
He began to rub the salve into her shoulders. Her skin was incredibly smooth, but beneath it, the muscles were as hard as the iron-oak they had moved together. As he worked, he felt her slowly begin to relax. Her head lolled forward, her long silver hair falling over her face.
"There," she murmured, a low, purring sound vibrating in her chest. "Right there, between the blades. Yes..."
Robin moved his hands lower, following the line of her spine. He was focused on the task, but he couldn't help but notice the way her tail would give a little twitch every time his fingers moved over a sensitive spot.
"You know," Lunara said, her voice sounding thick and relaxed. "Most men in the tribe are too afraid of me to even look me in the eye. They see the Alpha. They see the spear. But you... you look at me like I'm a person. A woman."
She turned around suddenly, the silk cloth slipping slightly, revealing the soft curve of her side and the edge of her bronze skin. Her golden eyes were clouded with heat, and she reached out, her hand cupping the back of Robin's neck.
"It's very frustrating, Robin," she whispered, pulling him closer until their foreheads touched. "To have a squire who is so brave in a fight but so shy in a tent."
Robin's breath hitched. "Lunara, I—"
"Shh," she silenced him, her thumb brushing over his lips. "I'm an Alpha, Robin. I get what I want. And right now... I want to know if that 'star-fall' spirit of yours tastes as sweet as it smells."
She leaned in, her lips inches from his. The tension was a physical thing, a cord stretched to the breaking point.
Suddenly, the yurt flap flew open.
"Lunara! The scouts found a nest!"
Mina burst in, her ears flopping wildly. She stopped dead, her eyes going wide as she saw Robin sitting on the bed, hands covered in green slime, and Lunara half-dressed and leaning into him.
"Oh!" Mina squeaked, her face turning a shade of red that matched the crimson moon. "I... I... the Shaman said... the nest! I'll come back! Or never! I'll go now!"
She spun around and sprinted back out, tripping over the doorframe on her way.
The silence that followed was heavy. Lunara stared at the closed flap for a long five seconds before letting out a groan of pure frustration, burying her face in her hands.
"I am going to kill that girl," she muttered, though Robin could see the deep blush spreading across her neck.
Robin let out a shaky breath, part of him relieved and part of him intensely disappointed. "So... about that nest?"
Lunara looked at him, her eyes regaining their sharp, predatory edge, but with a lingering spark of playfulness. She reached out and flicked a bit of salve onto his nose.
"The nest can wait ten minutes," she grumbled, grabbing her tunic and pulling it back on with a series of aggressive tugs. "But Robin? Consider this a delayed payment. And when I pay my debts... I pay them with interest."
[BOND LEVEL: LUNARA 35% (INFATUATED/PARTNER)]
[LONG-TERM GOAL UPDATED: THE SEAL OF THE STAR-FALL (3/100)]
Robin wiped the salve from his nose, his heart still racing. He didn't know what the 'Seal of the Star-Fall' was, but as he watched Lunara strap her spear back to her back, her tail lashing with a mix of irritation and excitement, he knew one thing for sure.
The "Harvest" was just the beginning. And the Weaver wasn't the only one who had set her sights on him.
"Come on, Squire," Lunara said, extending her hand. Her smile was feminine, soft, and utterly dangerous. "Let's go find this nest. And then, we're finishing our conversation. Without the apprentice."