Creak. Clink. Clatter.
The tall wooden gate of Huina swung open as Gilian and Herman returned from their hunt, dragging behind them the massive beary, now bundled in thick cloth and tied to a sled. The quiet bustle of the village welcomed them home—children laughing in the distance, someone hammering nails into a new roof, and the distant clinking of pots in the communal kitchen hall.
"Quite a big prey you got there, Herman!" a passing carpenter called out, waving a hand smudged with sawdust.
"Back early today!" another voice added.
Herman responded with a silent nod and a wave, his grip tight on the rope hauling the beast. Gilian, trailing behind, returned the greetings with a lopsided grin.
"Yup! Bagged ourselves a big one this time!" he called out.
That earned him a few impressed whistles and a shout, "Don't let it eat ya next time!" from someone he couldn't see.
They passed the fountain in the village square—a mossy stone basin filled with clear mountain spring water—and took a turn toward the familiar wooden storefront with leafy symbols carved into the sign: Ton's Remedy.
"I'll drop the beary off at the kitchen hall," Herman said, untying the rope from Gilian's waist. "Go patch yourself up before your mother sees that scratch. You know how she gets."
Gilian glanced down at the torn fabric on his sleeve, dried blood crusted along his arm. "Tch. Barely a scratch…"
Herman raised an eyebrow. Gilian shrank a little under the stare.
"Alright, alright. I'm going."
***
Ting-ting!
The bell above the herb shop door jingled as he stepped inside.
The scent hit him first—fresh mint, dry lavender, and something earthy he couldn't quite place. The shelves were lined with neatly labeled jars and bundles of dried plants hanging from the ceiling.
Alice, a silver-haired girl a year younger than Gilian, and apprentice to the village herbalist, looked up from the counter and gasped when she saw him.
"Gilian! What happened to your arm?!"
"Oh, you know. Almost got eaten. Just another day in the exciting life of a hunter."
She rushed over with a cloth in hand, her long silver hair bouncing slightly as she moved. "That's not funny, okay?"
"I mean… depends on your sense of humor."
She sighed but smiled despite her worry. "Sit down."
As he settled onto the stool by the counter, she quickly dabbed a potion onto the wound. The cool sting made him flinch.
"Still using that old beary trap mix?" she asked, brushing her hair out of her eyes.
"Yup. Worked like a charm. Until I tripped and almost became lunch."
(Beary trap mix: a lure Gilian makes by smashing together local fruits and a diluted potion. The smell attracts bearies, who seem to love the stuff.)
Alice paused. "You really need to be more careful."
"I know," he muttered, watching her work. "But hey… I got it, didn't I?"
She gave a quiet nod, then flicked his forehead gently. "Still. Try not to get eaten."
Gilian blinked, then grinned. "You worried about me, Alice?"
She blushed instantly. "I—I worry about all my customers!"
"Right, right," he chuckled, hopping off the stool as she finished bandaging his arm. "Thanks for the patch-up!"
"You owe me two berries and a pinch of frostleaf. I had to make a new potion just for this," she called after him.
"Put it on my tab!" Gilian called over his shoulder, waving as he stepped back outside.
***
The village kitchen hall was alive with sound—crackling fires, the clang of cleavers, and the sizzle of meat on hot stone. Built at the heart of Huina, it served as both a mess hall and a place where large games could be processed for the community.
Herman was already there, sleeves rolled up, carefully skinning the beary with practiced hands. Nearby, Cren—a tall man with the same brown eyes as Herman—inspected the organs for mana taint before preparing them to be sent to Rutina, Alice's older sister, for potion-making.
"Back from the dead, are we?" Cren called out when he spotted Gilian.
"Barely," Gilian said with a grin. "Thanks to Dad's fancy kaboom arrow."
"Don't get cocky," Herman muttered, not even looking up. "You almost got eaten."
"Well, almost counts as not, right?"
Before anyone could respond, an energetic voice called out from behind.
"Hey hey! Smells like dinner already!"
Ronova, the broad-shouldered guard captain, strode in with a relaxed wave. His armor was half-off, tied at the waist with a red sash.
"You two really brought down a whole beary?"
Gilian puffed out his chest a little. "Sure did."
After Ronova took a seat beside them, he leaned in with a more serious tone. "Hey, you guys remember what the merchant said on the last Market Day?"
Gilian leaned forward, curious. Cren set aside a liver and paused. Even Herman, though still working, listened in silence.
"Some merchant came through from the south," Ronova said, lowering his voice slightly. "Said there's been chaos in the Royal Capital since the grand summoning ritual."
Gilian blinked. "Chaos? I thought the ritual was a celebration."
Ronova shrugged. "That's what I thought too. It's supposed to bring a hero and hope and all that. But apparently, something's gone strange. Might just be wild stories, though—you know how merchants exaggerate."
"Or maybe something went wrong with the ritual," Cren murmured, brows furrowed.
A quiet pause followed.
Then Ronova laughed. "Come on, don't jinx us. This is Huina—we're too far off the map for demons or heroes to even care. Especially being so close to Crevtowood, under the protection of Forestra and Beastia"
"Still," Herman said, cleaning his blade, "keep your ears open. Just in case."
Ronova gave a casual salute. "Always. Anyway—see you all at the feast tonight. Don't burn the beary!"
***
The sky turned orange as the sun dipped below the trees. Warm light flickered through windows, and a familiar smell filled Huina's winding paths—grilled meat, herbs, and roasted roots.
The communal tables were packed. Villagers laughed, shared stories, and passed wooden platters piled high with food. A whole leg of beary sat at the center of the table, glazed with honeyroot and garlic.
"Let's eat!" shouted Ton, the village chief of Huina and Alice's father, who oversaw most of the village's affairs.
Plates clattered. Drinks sloshed.
At one end of the table, Gilian sat between Arvan—his rival and fellow hunter—and Alice, who tried (and failed) not to look too amused by the boys arguing.
"You should've seen it," Gilian said loudly. "One shot, right to the shoulder. Staggered it like nothing!"
Arvan raised an eyebrow. "And then you tripped on a root and almost got eaten, right?"
Gilian froze. "That's... not important to the story."
Laughter followed. Even Cren joined in, reaching across the table to give Arvan a light knock on the head. "Be nice."
"Okay, okay," Arvan said with a grin. "Still, next time we hunt together, I'm leading."
"In your dreams," Gilian replied, mouth full of food.
At the head of the table, Diana—Gilian's mother—passed a bowl of soup to Herman. Her hands were rough from work, but her eyes held warmth and quiet worry.
"You're not allowed to die out there, you hear me?" she said, shooting a side glance at Herman.
"Not planning to," Gilian replied between bites.
"Next time," she added, "trip over something smaller. Like a leaf. At least that's less embarrassing."
That made Herman choke on his drink, sputtering as Diana patted his back with mock sympathy. Across the table, Alice tried—and failed—to contain her giggle, her hand covering her mouth as her eyes sparkled with amusement.
Gilian groaned dramatically. "I'm never living that down, am I?"
"Not in this lifetime," Arvan said with a smirk, raising his cup.
Cren chuckled as he sliced another piece of roasted beary. "Think of it as a lesson—served hot with dinner."
The laughter spread like firelight on kindling—gentle, warm, and shared.
For now, the village of Huina was wrapped in laughter and the scent of food, the troubles of the wider world kept at bay by good company and a strong meal.