Chapter 20: The Siege Begins

The river carried a muted roar through the air as the village slowly stirred to life. The sky was overcast, a slate-gray canopy that pressed low against the treetops, threatening rain but offering none. Atsushi sat near the infirmary, his fingers absently tracing the cracks on the fractured device in his hands. Its faint glow pulsed irregularly, casting an eerie light onto his face.

It had become a habit of his, tinkering with the device in moments of quiet. He wasn’t sure why—whether it was a desperate hope that he might fix it or simply a way to distract himself from the weight of the decisions that loomed over him. The previous night’s skirmish had left him restless, and the reality of their vulnerability gnawed at his thoughts.

“Still poking at that thing?” Ana’s voice broke through his reverie.

He glanced up to see her standing nearby, her bow slung across her back and a faint smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. She looked tired, though her sharp eyes betrayed no sign of weakness.

“Something like that,” Atsushi replied, slipping the device back into his satchel. “What about you? Sleep any better?”

Ana shrugged, crossing her arms as she leaned against the infirmary’s wooden frame. “Not really. Too much on my mind.”

“That makes two of us,” Atsushi said. He gestured to the empty space beside him. “Sit. Pretend for five minutes that you’re not carrying the weight of the village on your shoulders.”

Ana rolled her eyes but sat down nonetheless, her posture as rigid as ever. “Five minutes, then we get back to work.”

The morning was spent reinforcing the village’s defenses. Hunters sharpened their weapons, and the villagers worked to patch gaps in the wall with wooden stakes and mud. Atsushi moved between groups, offering help where he could, though his presence was often met with wary glances. Despite his efforts to integrate, he still felt like an outsider—a stranger whose presence brought as much unease as it did relief.

By midday, the tension in the village had thickened. The aftermath of the skirmish had left a mark, and though they had emerged victorious, the fight had exposed their fragility. The rival tribe’s retreat didn’t feel like a victory—it felt like a pause in a game they didn’t understand.

Ana gathered a small group of scouts and hunters near the northern gate. Atsushi joined them, his satchel slung across his shoulder and his mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead.

“We’re heading back to the ridge,” Ana said, addressing the group. “I want to make sure they didn’t double back after the fight. If they did, we need to know now.”

Daichi, who stood among the hunters, let out a low grunt of disapproval. “We should be preparing for their next move, not chasing ghosts.”

Ana shot him a sharp look. “You’re welcome to stay behind if you’re scared.”

Daichi bristled but said nothing, his scowl deepening as he adjusted the grip on his spear.

The forest was heavy with the scent of damp earth and pine as the group moved through the underbrush. The air was cooler here, the shadows deeper. Atsushi stayed near the middle of the group, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees for any sign of movement. Ana led the way, her bow in hand and her steps as silent as a predator’s.

They reached the ridge by mid-afternoon, the river below glinting like a silver thread in the dim light. The dam had been dismantled, its remains scattered along the banks, but the air still felt charged with tension.

Ana raised a hand, signaling for the group to stop. She crouched low, her eyes narrowing as she studied the ground. Atsushi moved closer, his heart pounding.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Tracks,” Ana said, her voice low. “Fresh ones.”

She pointed to a faint trail of footprints leading toward the river. The prints were shallow but deliberate, their edges crisp against the damp soil. Whoever had left them hadn’t been gone long.

“Stay close,” Ana ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The group followed the trail down the ridge, moving carefully through the thick underbrush. The sound of the river grew louder, its roar drowning out the faint rustle of leaves. Atsushi’s pulse quickened as they approached the water’s edge.

Then he saw it—a small camp nestled among the trees near the riverbank. It was rudimentary, with makeshift shelters constructed from branches and leaves. A fire smoldered in the center, its smoke curling into the air.

Ana held up a hand, signaling for the group to stop. She motioned for Atsushi to follow her, and together they crept closer, their steps as silent as the shadows.

The camp was empty, but signs of recent activity were everywhere—half-eaten food, weapons leaned against trees, and footprints leading toward the river. Ana’s expression darkened as she surveyed the scene.

“They’re watching us,” she said quietly. “This isn’t a retreat—it’s a staging ground.”

Atsushi felt a chill crawl down his spine. “What do we do?”

Ana didn’t answer immediately. She crouched beside the fire, her fingers brushing the ashes. “We send a message.”

They dismantled the camp methodically, scattering the supplies and dousing the fire. Ana left an arrow embedded in one of the trees, its shaft painted with a streak of red clay. A warning. By the time they returned to the village, the sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting the forest in hues of gold and shadow.

The elder was waiting by the fire pit, his expression grave as Ana delivered her report. She spoke quickly but clearly, detailing the discovery of the camp and the actions they had taken.

“They’re not done with us,” Ana said, her tone sharp. “They’re regrouping. Planning their next move.”

The elder’s face tightened, his gaze shifting to Atsushi. “Do you agree?”

Atsushi hesitated, the weight of the question pressing on him. “Yes,” he said finally. “But I don’t think they’re planning an outright attack. Not yet. They’re testing us—seeing how far they can push.”

“And how far do we let them?” Daichi interjected, his voice edged with frustration. “We can’t keep waiting for them to make the first move.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Ana said. “If we strike too soon, we give them the upper hand.”

Daichi scowled but said nothing, his fists clenched at his sides. The elder let out a slow breath, his eyes closing briefly as if to gather his thoughts.

“We’ll strengthen the defenses,” he said finally. “Double the patrols along the river. And keep watching. We need to be ready for whatever comes next.”

That night, Atsushi sat outside the infirmary, the fractured device in his hands once again. The soft glow of its damaged core cast flickering shadows on his face as he turned it over, his thoughts heavy with doubt. He had been in the village long enough to care deeply about its people, but the uncertainty of their situation weighed on him like a stone.

Ana joined him, her footsteps soft against the dirt. She sat beside him without a word, her presence as steady as ever.

“Do you ever wonder how this ends?” Atsushi asked quietly.

Ana tilted her head, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “All the time.”

“And?” Atsushi prompted.

“And I try not to think about it,” she said simply. “Thinking too much about the end makes it harder to deal with what’s in front of you.”

Atsushi smiled faintly, though the weight in his chest remained. “You always have an answer, don’t you?”

Ana smirked, though there was a softness in her expression that he hadn’t seen before. “Not always. But I’ve learned how to keep moving.”

The fire crackled softly in the distance, its warmth a fragile barrier against the cold night. Despite everything, Atsushi felt a flicker of hope—a small, fragile light in the darkness.