Gossip

Cora crossed the threshold into the dim interior of the wooden hut. The air inside hit her immediately—a heavy blend of dried herbs, earthy musk, and the sharp, metallic tang of raw meat. Her bare feet dragged across the packed dirt floor. The chill deep in her bones fought against the rising fever in her blood, making her head spin, but she forced herself to keep moving.

Theron Zall stood waiting in the front room, a looming figure in the shadows. He was a tall, lean elder with thick brown hair. His features were sharp, his jawline striking, and his posture was so ramrod straight he commanded the space effortlessly. He could easily stand out in a crowd of men half his age.

"Come in," Theron said. His voice held a low, calm resonance.

Male beastfolk possessed razor-sharp hearing. Theron had caught every single word of the conversation between Cora and Zarek outside. He already knew exactly who she was, why she was here, and what she held in her hand.

Cora nodded tightly and stepped past him, moving toward the back room. The sight that greeted her made her freeze in her tracks.

Sprawled across a massive, reinforced wooden bed was a giant white python. The creature was monstrous, its body as thick as a grown human's thigh. Coils upon coils of pristine pale scales gleamed softly in the low light filtering through the cracks in the walls.

Two other elderly men stood beside the bed, fussing over the apex predator. One held up a heavy chunk of raw, bloody beast meat. The other stroked the python's thick scales, coaxing it in a soft, gentle, almost childlike tone.

The python ignored the food. Its nictitating membranes remained shut tight. It refused to open its mouth no matter how much the elders pleaded with it to eat.

Cora swallowed the heavy lump of terror lodged in her throat. She gripped her blue beast crystal tighter and scanned the room. Three old men. One giant snake. There was no sign of the female she was supposed to meet.

She forced her raspy voice to work, extending her left hand to show the glowing stone to the room. "Excuse me. I am looking for Ms. Alma Voss. I need two pieces of clothing."

At the sound of her voice, the massive white python shifted. The thick coils unspooled with the sound of heavy scales dragging against wood. The nictitating membranes flicked open, revealing cold, slitted pupils. The beast lifted its heavy head from the bed and slowly slithered toward Cora.

A long, forked tongue darted out, tasting the air in her direction.

Cora held her ground for a second, trying desperately to maintain her composure. But the sheer scale of the predator triggered every primal survival instinct in her system. The heavy, wedge-shaped head came right up to her face. The damp, dark tongue nearly brushed the skin of her uninjured arm.

Her legs gave out. The color drained from her face, leaving her chalk-white, and she collapsed onto the dirt floor. She did not faint. Her grip on consciousness held strong, but raw fear locked her muscles in place. This was a nightmare far worse than any snake transformation she had seen in movies.

Seeing her crumple to the ground, the python flinched. It lowered its massive head, let out a soft, sad hiss, and retreated toward the bed. Its whole demeanor screamed dejection.

The three handsome elders gasped in unison. They abandoned the bloody meat and rushed to the snake, patting its thick neck and murmuring words of comfort to the crestfallen beast.

Watching them coddle the giant reptile, a realization clicked in Cora's fuzzy brain. The python was Alma Voss. Female beastfolk could be giant snakes too.

Theron turned his sharp gaze back to Cora. He scowled at her. "You little brat. Take your beast crystal and go home."

Just as the words left his mouth, the white python whipped its head around and hissed sharply at Theron. The tone was aggressive, mimicking a harsh scolding.

Theron’s scowl vanished instantly. He raised his hands in defeat. "Fine. Fine," he muttered, dragging his feet as he walked toward a storage area to fetch the clothes.

The white python slithered right off the wooden bed, its heavy body hitting the floor with a thud, and followed close behind Theron.

"Why are you trailing after me?" Theron's voice drifted back to the front room, the grumpy edge replaced by pure affection. "I am not gonna pick out the worst clothes on purpose. Watch out, you might throw out your back. I am not that petty."

The python let out a low, chiding hiss in response.

"What, you want to give her this fox fur coat?" Theron asked, his voice echoing slightly. "You really love that one. Are you sure you want to give it away? Or maybe this one instead... Alright, I get it. Do not try to shift into your human form. You will just wear yourself out."

Cora sat on the floor, listening to the one-sided conversation. The primal terror slowly drained out of her, replaced by utter bewilderment.

"You really like that female cub, huh?" Theron continued. "She is just a little chubby. What is the big deal? And she is so timid. Oh, her arm is broken? Yeah, poor thing."

Theron emerged a moment later, carrying two thick sets of folded garments. He handed them down to Cora and gestured for her to change in the back room.

Cora scrambled to her feet, thanking him in a quiet voice. She retreated to the back, struggling with her broken arm to strip off her filthy, torn modern clothes and pull on the new garments. The clothes were designed for someone much taller and broader. The hem of the top, which was meant to hit at the knees, dragged all the way down to her ankles. But the thick wool and fur were incredibly soft, trapping the heat against her shivering skin. The biting cold finally retreated.

When Cora stepped back out, she looked at the white python resting on the bed again. The fear was gone, replaced by gratitude. Alma was just a friendly local who liked her.

Cora offered a small smile. "Thanks, Ms. Voss. I really like these clothes."

The python’s tongue flicked out, and it hissed happily.

Seeing their mate in such good spirits, the three male elders brightened up. Their initial coldness toward Cora melted away. When Cora held out the blue beast crystal again, Theron waved it off, refusing to take her payment.

Cora tucked the gem away, baffled by the tribal dynamics. Three old men fussing over one giant snake. She guessed one was Alma's husband and the other two were her relatives, just visiting or helping out. She could not make heads or tails of the relationships here.

Remembering Zarek was still waiting outside in the cold, Cora turned toward the door to head out.

Theron stepped into her path. He held up a hand, motioning for her to stop and peek outside first.

Cora crept to the doorway and peered out into the clearing. The quiet space had transformed into a chaotic circus.

A large crowd had gathered out of nowhere. A stunning young female lounged on an ornate chair made of vibrant, colorful feathers, placed a safe distance away from the hut. Closer to the building, a dozen bare-chested males wearing skirts made of matching feathers had linked their hands together. They formed a massive, unbroken ring, trapping Zarek and the large tree he leaned against right in the center.

Zarek stood there with his muscular arms folded over his chest. His eyes were shut tight. His face was a mask of rigid indifference, looking like he could not care less about the bizarre spectacle unfolding around him.

The males began their dance.

It was the strangest courtship ritual Cora had ever witnessed. The males swayed their hips in exaggerated, sweeping motions. They kicked their long legs high into the air, their bare feet stomping the dirt to create a heavy rhythm. They spun in circles, swapping hands without breaking the chain, puffed out their broad chests, and bowed low. Then, like a sudden tide, they rushed forward, surging toward Zarek. The moment they reached a six-foot radius, they stopped dead, retreated backward, and reformed their wide circle.

Every few beats, they stomped the dirt and shouted in booming unison, "Lord Zarek, please say yes to Vessa."

Vessa Thorne, the striking female lounging in the feather chair, watched her mates perform with a smug, satisfied smirk. She leaned her chin on her hand. Sending her guardians to train with the Cranefolk was the right call. They danced much better than the actual cranefolk.

Vessa raised her voice, flashing Zarek a sincere smile over the noise. "Lord Zarek, please be my main mate."

The feather-skirted males picked up the tempo. They chanted and called out, matching the rhythm of their stomping feet. They puffed their chests, bowed, and linked hands, circling Zarek clockwise. Their hips shook wildly, the colorful feathers swishing and rustling with aggressive, rhythmic energy.

"Lord Zarek, please say yes to Vessa."

The circle tightened. They shook their hips faster. Their deep voices echoed through the clearing. Their long legs kicked in sync, creating a ridiculous yet physically impressive display of coordination.

"Lord Zarek, please say yes to Vessa."

They closed in again, shrinking the ring until they stood exactly six feet from him. The chanting hit a fever pitch, loud and intense.

"Lord Zarek, please say yes to Vessa!"

Zarek’s eyes snapped open. A thick vein throbbed visibly at his temple as he fought to keep his temper in check. Then, his patience snapped.

An icy, merciless pressure exploded from his body. The sheer weight of a Rank 5 beastfolk slammed into the clearing. The air grew heavy, suffocating, carrying a lethal edge that demanded immediate submission.

"Get lost," Zarek barked. His voice was cold enough to freeze bone.

The sheer force of his presence shattered the dancers' coordination. Panic flashed across their faces. The feather-skirted males broke the circle and scrambled away, falling over their own feet in their haste to escape the crushing aura. They sprinted past the feather chair, scooped Vessa up without breaking stride, and carried her off into the trees, fleeing for their lives.

Standing inside the dark hut, Cora stared at the empty space where the dance troupe had just been. Her jaw hung open. Then, a laugh bubbled up in her chest. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking.

Were all beastfolk tribes this absurd? The ridiculous display wiped out the last traces of her lingering fear of these people.

Before Cora could stifle her giggles, a loud burst of laughter echoed outside.

She paused, thinking she had made too much noise, but the sound came from the other side of the clearing. A striking male with vibrant emerald-green hair stumbled out from behind a nearby tree.

He was laughing so hard he could barely walk. He clutched his stomach, taking uneven steps toward Zarek.

The green-haired male stopped, puffed out his chest, and did a spot-on, exaggerated impression of the dancers' hip-shaking routine. He wheezed out the words through his laughter. "Lord Zarek, please say yes to Vessa."

Zarek turned his head. He shot the male a glare loaded with raw killing intent. It hit Jace Fane like a physical wall. The laughter died in Jace's throat. His green hair practically stood on end, and his grin froze into a stiff grimace.

Jace cleared his throat loudly, straightening his posture. He dropped the joke and adopted a serious tone. "Why did you leave the Sacred Lake?"

"Business," Zarek replied. The word was flat, offering nothing.

Jace took a few steps closer, eyeing him carefully. "What could be so important that you would rather put up with all these crazy tricks from the females just to come out here?"

Zarek remained silent. He leaned his head back against the rough bark of the tree, refusing to engage.

Jace’s brows slowly drew together. He tilted his head, studying Zarek’s closed-off expression. A new thought formed in his mind, shifting his tone from curious to cautious. "Are you planning to kill Torin?"

Zarek rolled his eyes, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "Nonsense."

"No?" Jace looked genuinely confused. He leaned back against the opposite side of the tree, rubbing his chin in deep thought. "I cannot think of any other reason."

The logic made perfect sense to Jace. Zarek used to be the guardian of Myra Dunn. Myra was a rare alpha female in the Serpentfolk tribe, and Zarek was their strongest Rank 5 male. To the rest of the tribe, they were an undeniable match made by the Beast God himself. Everyone, including Jace, assumed Zarek would naturally ascend to the position of her main mate.

But a few days ago, the Harvest Moon Celebration shattered that assumption. In front of the roaring fires and the entire gathered tribe, Myra made her announcement. She bypassed her strongest guardian entirely. She declared she would take Torin Vane—a Rank 4 male—as her mate at the upcoming Beast God's Festival. Furthermore, she declared Torin would be her main mate, giving him the highest authority.

The humiliation was public and absolute. Immediately after her announcement, Zarek stepped down as her guardian.

The fallout threw the tribe into chaos. Unclaimed Rank 5 males were a prize. The single females were thrilled, swarming Zarek at every turn, pulling stunts just like Vessa’s dancers. Zarek tolerated the madness for a short time before he reached his limit. He packed up and moved to the Sacred Lake, seeking isolation and peace.

And yet, after only a few days of quiet, he was back in the main settlement, walking right back into the crosshairs of every desperate female in the tribe.

Jace knew Zarek's personality better than anyone. Zarek despised the noise. He would not abandon the sanctuary of the Sacred Lake until every female gave up on him. Unless he had a specific goal.

Myra made a public vow at the Harvest Moon Celebration. She could never break it without facing severe backlash. But if Torin were suddenly out of the picture, the situation would reset. If Torin ended up dead, Myra technically would not be breaking her vow. It was the only loophole available.

Leaning against the tree, Jace asked again if Zarek seriously didn't come out here to kill Torin.