The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 625: Watching The Small Strange Village

The snow in the outer forest had not fully sealed the ground yet. A thin, dirty layer clung to the roots and rocks, soft enough to take prints and hard enough to keep them clear.

It was the kind of weather that made normal beastmen curl up around a fire, but the group creeping through the trees that day was not normal.

They moved with trained steps, muscles wrapped in dull brown furs that did not rustle.

Even their breaths were thin and careful as they crouched behind a boulder and looked toward the village that was no longer really a small-village in anyone’s eyes.

The place in front of them had watchtowers now, actual watchtowers, tall stone and wood sentries at the edges of the cliffs, with smoke spiraling from several points inside like disciplined breath.

If they told their king what they saw, he would never belived them. In fact no one would belive what they were seeing was actually real.

Not only did every thing before them look like they belonged to big cites but they also looked really strange.

Most of even bet that the big cites would not be able to identify what these things were.

For a moment they thought of going back and telling their king to leave this strange village alone. Because they felt like poking it would be a death sentence.

But they also knew if they did that, it would also be a death sentence. So they continued looking around.

Fences, thicker than before, ringed the place in layered lines.

They could see men walking across the top of the walls with spears and bows in their hands, and here and there, among the rooftops, were shadows of large beasts stretching and pacing as if they were waiting for something to fight.

"This is really still called a village?" one of the spies from Eastern Forest could not hold back his whisper. His animal eyes narrowed as he traced the lines of the new constructions. "It looks like a small city already."

The leader of the group pressed his palm down, warning him to be quiet. His nose twitched.

Even this far away, the place smelled different from before.

There was the thick scent of fire and cooked meat, but underneath it, there was the faint smell of strange crops and herbs, like something rich and new growing right under winter’s nose.

Mixed in with it all was a familiar metallic taste, the scent of many powerful males gathered in one place, and in the center of it, thin but stubborn, was the scent they had been ordered to confirm, the light and airy smell that had made their king gnash his teeth.

The smell of the so called goddess of the lion tribe.

They stayed there for a long time, memorizing patrol paths, counting watchtowers, noticing how often the guards changed places and which areas were still weak.

When a group of young hunters came out with spears and laughing voices, the spies pressed deeper into the trees.

They watched the hunters disappear toward the mountain, then slowly, quietly, they slipped away in the opposite direction. In the end, no one noticed that shadows had been watching.

The spies disappeared into the forest, their figures swallowed by trunks and fog as they went back to report to Lord Ashur, the kangaroo king who still stubbornly believed he was the most powerful ruler in the surrounding area.

By the time the sun climbed properly that morning, the snow on the inner paths had turned muddy under footprints.

On the main wall, a hunter with sharp eyes stood in the watchtower, hugging his fur cloak tightly around him while he scanned the line where forest melted into white.

His gaze was already used to the normal patterns of animals passing, so when he saw the marks below, his heart immediately gave a heavy thump.

The tracks looked like beast prints, but they were too organized.

There were several lines of them, coming from a direction no hunting party used, then stopping suddenly behind a low rise of earth as if the beasts had all squatted down there for a while, watching. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

"Oi, look," he grabbed the sleeve of the younger male beside him and pointed down. "Do you see that? Those aren’t ours."

The younger male leaned out, squinting. "Those... look like mixed prints. Wolf, kangaroo, maybe boar. But the spacing is strange. They all walked with the same distance between steps."

"Yeah," the older hunter muttered. "That’s what bothers me. Wild beasts never walk like that. Those are beastmen feet in animal forms."

They climbed down from the watchtower and called a few more experienced hunters.

The group went out to check, each one crouching beside the tracks, sniffing, feeling the faint trace of spiritual energy that clung to the marks. It sat on their tongues like the wrong taste in a soup.

"Unfamiliar," one of them said with a frown. "Not from any nearby tribe we trade with."

"Then what are they doing here, hiding behind our hill and sniffing around?" another hunter grumbled, gripping his spear tighter. "If they come to trade, they can walk through the main path. If they come like this, it means they were counting our teeth."

None of them liked that thought. So they did what they had been trained to do these days.

They followed the trail for a while, confirmed that the footprints eventually turned away toward the direction of Eastern Forest Village, then went back, stomping snow from their boots as they headed straight for the inner palace to report to their king.

Kian listened silently as they spoke, his tall body half hidden behind the lion skin cloak that draped over his shoulders.

The room was quiet except for the hunters’ voices and the dull crackle of the fire.

His blue eyes lowered slightly as he pictured the pattern, the stop behind the hill, the unfamiliar spiritual residue.