Chapter 16: An Arrow Through the Heart

The wind shifted as dawn crept into the sky, bringing with it a cold bite that hinted at the encroaching change in seasons. The village, nestled between the forest and river, began its day slowly. Smoke from early morning fires curled into the air, a thin veil of gray against the amber hues of sunrise. Despite the picturesque scene, the undercurrent of tension was palpable.

Atsushi walked along the perimeter of the village, his breath visible in the chilled air. The elder had asked him to inspect the infirmary’s supplies and prepare for any incoming injuries. Yet, he found himself drawn to the unfinished section of the wall at the village’s eastern edge. The wooden barricade, reinforced with sharpened stakes, was a patchwork of repairs and hurried construction. It symbolized their growing unease.

Ana stood nearby, her bow slung across her back. She was talking to a group of hunters, her tone firm but calm. They dispersed as Atsushi approached, leaving her alone by the wall. She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“So are you,” Atsushi replied, stopping beside her. “What’s the plan today? More patrols?”

“Always,” Ana said, her gaze shifting to the forest. “The tracks from yesterday don’t sit right with me. If they’re scouting this close, they’re planning something.”

“Could they be testing us? Looking for weaknesses?” Atsushi asked.

Ana’s jaw tightened. “Maybe. But I don’t like waiting for them to make the first move.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You and Daichi might actually agree on something for once.”

Ana scoffed. “Don’t get used to it.”

The morning passed in a blur of activity. Atsushi returned to the infirmary, checking the remaining supplies and organizing what little they had left. Bandages were running low, as were some of the essential herbs Kiyomi had gathered weeks ago. He made a mental note to send someone to replenish their stock—assuming the forest was still safe enough to venture into.

As he worked, a young boy stumbled into the infirmary, clutching his arm. His face was streaked with dirt, and his wide eyes brimmed with tears. Atsushi knelt immediately, his doctor’s instincts kicking in.

“What happened?” he asked gently.

The boy sniffled, holding out his arm. A deep cut ran from his wrist to his elbow, the wound fresh and oozing blood.

“Fell on a sharp rock near the river,” the boy said, his voice trembling.

Atsushi nodded, keeping his voice calm and steady. “You’re going to be fine. Let me take care of this.”

He cleaned the wound carefully, using the last of the alcohol they’d managed to brew from fermented roots. As he stitched the boy’s arm, he couldn’t help but think of the river. The tension over its control weighed heavily on everyone, but for the children, it remained a place of play and curiosity. The idea of it turning into a battlefield made his stomach churn.

“You’re brave,” Atsushi said as he tied off the final stitch. “But be careful next time, okay?”

The boy nodded, a faint smile breaking through his tears. “Thank you, doctor.”

By mid-afternoon, the village buzzed with news of a discovery. One of the scouts had returned from the forest, carrying a strange bundle wrapped in leaves. The scout, a wiry woman named Emiko, led a small crowd to the elder’s hut, where she laid the bundle on the ground.

Atsushi and Ana arrived as the elder knelt to inspect the package. The leaves parted to reveal a crude weapon—a spear with a jagged, obsidian-like tip. The shaft was splintered, and dried blood darkened its edges.

“Where did you find this?” the elder asked.

“Near the northern trail,” Emiko said. “It was stuck in the ground, like a warning.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, fear mingling with anger. Daichi stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.

“This isn’t a warning,” he said. “It’s a challenge.”

“We don’t know that yet,” the elder replied evenly. “It could have been abandoned during a hunt.”

“Or it could mean they’re coming,” Daichi pressed, his voice rising. “We need to act now. Fortify the walls, arm everyone who can hold a weapon.”

“And provoke an attack that hasn’t happened yet?” Ana said sharply. “Great strategy.”

The two locked eyes, tension crackling between them. Atsushi stepped forward before the argument could escalate.

“Whatever this means, it’s clear they’re close,” he said. “We can’t ignore it, but we also can’t overreact.”

The elder nodded, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll increase patrols along the northern trail and send word to the hunters to avoid the area. Ana, you’ll oversee the patrols. Atsushi, focus on the infirmary. If this does escalate, we’ll need you ready.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Atsushi found himself back at the infirmary, methodically preparing for the worst. He crushed herbs into a paste, the rhythmic motion grounding him as his mind raced with possibilities. The discovery of the spear left little doubt that the other tribe was testing their boundaries. But to what end?

A soft knock at the doorway pulled him from his thoughts. Ana stood there, her silhouette framed by the glow of the torches outside.

“Busy?” she asked.

“Always,” Atsushi replied, setting the mortar and pestle aside. “What’s going on?”

Ana stepped inside, her movements unusually hesitant. She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. About them testing us.”

“And?” Atsushi prompted.

“I think you’re right,” she admitted, her voice low. “But I also think they’re waiting for something. They’re not just testing—they’re planning.”

Atsushi frowned. “You think they’re preparing for an attack?”

“Maybe,” Ana said. “Or maybe they’re trying to make us paranoid. Either way, we can’t let our guard down.”

He nodded, the weight of her words settling over him. “What do we do?”

Ana’s gaze was steady, her usual sharpness tempered by a rare hint of vulnerability. “We stay ready. We don’t give them an opening.”

It wasn’t the reassurance Atsushi wanted, but it was enough to know she was as determined as he was to protect the village.

The night brought with it an uneasy calm. The forest was quiet, the usual chorus of insects and distant howls replaced by an oppressive silence. Atsushi sat outside the infirmary, staring at the fractured device in his hands. Its faint glow was almost imperceptible now, a dying ember in the darkness.

He turned it over, his fingers tracing the cracks that marred its surface. It felt like a metaphor for everything around him—fragile, on the verge of breaking, but still holding together. Barely.

Ana appeared beside him, her presence as steady as ever. She didn’t say anything at first, simply sitting down and staring at the horizon.

“You think we’ll ever stop feeling like this?” Atsushi asked after a while.

“Like what?” Ana said.

“Like everything’s hanging by a thread.”

Ana was silent for a moment before she spoke. “Maybe not. But threads can hold more than you think.”

Atsushi glanced at her, surprised by the unexpected optimism. “That sounded almost hopeful.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Ana said with a faint smirk. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”

He chuckled softly, the sound almost lost in the night.