An Ominous Premonition

"It must have run into something else." Derek's heart sank, his rough fingers unconsciously rubbing the hilt of the old knife at his waist.

This "other" thing, most likely in this land, is people—and hostile people at that.

He knew all too well what lay south of the mountains, Carnford.

The territory of the Goldspur, which caused the Great Chieftain Harald to suffer heavy losses and lose many men a few months ago.

After the Great Chieftain retreated back to Frosgard, he gritted his teeth and issued an order: in all border villages and outposts, if any Carnford People dared to cross the border, whether hunting, gathering, or scouting, they should be killed without mercy!

One Carnford People, one Silver coin! Those captured alive can be kept as slaves!

The order carried a clear connotation of retaliation and intimidation. Derek's village did respond, and his villagers did indeed capture a few unfortunate Carnford hunters or refugees who had wandered too far into the mountains, exchanging them for Silver coin or keeping them to fill labor gaps.

But this time...

The simultaneous disappearance of three of the strongest hunters, without any warning, or even any... This was hardly the behavior of a scattered, panicked group of Carnford hunters.

"Could it be... soldiers from Carnford?" Derek's heart skipped a beat at the thought.

If it is indeed a group of Carnford soldiers who voluntarily crossed the border and infiltrated the forest... this is not good news.

This means one thing: those Southern Barbarians may no longer be content to hide behind their castles and walls.

They might want to proactively extend their reach, clear the border, or even... attack Sauron villages like his!

The thought sent a chill down Derek's spine. This village, this land and its people, were the foundation of his life, the place he had traded one leg for to live out his retirement, his very "life"!

If the Carnford People really dared to attack... He instinctively clenched his fist, a wolf-like glint flashing in his eyes.

He would fight to the death to defend this place! He was familiar with combat and knew how to set up defenses. Although the men in the village were not regular soldiers, if they were pushed to the limit, they could take up knives, axes, bows and arrows, and rely on the village's simple wooden walls and familiar terrain. They might not be unable to fight back.

But... war kills people, so avoiding war is of course the best option.

Derek forced himself to calm down; everything was just speculation now.

Perhaps the men encountered some other unexpected event, or maybe they chased their prey too far and ended up spending the night in some cave?

Although the possibility was extremely slim, he still decided to send people to search for them first. He wanted to find them alive, or at least their bodies or traces.

He limped to the old locust tree in the center of the village, where a hollowed-out cow horn hung—a horn used to summon the villagers. He took a deep breath and blew the horn with all his might.

The deep, urgent sound of horns shattered the tranquility of the village at night.

Soon, the doors of each household opened, and the men, carrying simple weapons—mostly axes for chopping wood, bows and arrows for hunting, and sharpened Wooden Spear —and holding torches, gathered under the old locust tree.

The firelight illuminated faces that were filled with confusion, tension, and drowsiness.

The women hid behind doors or by windows, peering anxiously.

Derek succinctly explained the situation: the three best hunters had gone into the mountains and had not returned, and were likely in danger. They needed to immediately organize a search party to thoroughly search the area around the village before nightfall, focusing on the trails leading into the mountains and the directions the hunters frequently took.

Upon hearing that Barton and his men had disappeared, the villagers all looked on with surprise and uncertainty.

In this isolated village that relies on the mountains for survival, the loss of three of the strongest laborers is a major event for everyone.

No one asked any questions. Dozens of young and strong men were quickly organized into several teams. Under Derek's guidance, they carried torches and began a careful search along the outskirts of the village and several paths leading into the mountains.

The torchlight flickered in the thick darkness, like a swarm of frantic fireflies.

Shouts and reminders echoed at the edge of the silent mountain forest.

"Barton--!"

"Old Black! Answer me if you hear me!"

"Look this way! Watch your step!"

They searched meticulously, leaving no stone unturned: broken branches, unusual footprints, bloodstains, and discarded items.

However, from the moment the sun completely set until the night grew thick and impenetrable, the torchlight could only illuminate a small area beneath their feet. Apart from the messy footprints they themselves had made and the startled birds and animals, they found nothing.

There were no signs of a struggle, no bloodstains, no discarded arrows or tools, and even the simple signs that men usually left to indicate their way seemed to have been deliberately cleared away, or perhaps were simply not left at all.

When the last search party returned to the village dejectedly, shaking their heads at Derek, the old soldier's face became unusually solemn and gloomy in the flickering torchlight.

He waved his hand, signaling the exhausted and fearful villagers to go back and rest, but ordered that nighttime vigilance be strengthened and more people be assigned to keep watch.

Standing alone under the old locust tree, Derek gazed at the unfathomable, dark forest to the south, a forest that seemed to conceal countless dangers, and his ominous premonition grew stronger.

Three living people couldn't just disappear into thin air.

There were no signs of wild animals, no indication of an accidental fall... so there's almost only one answer left.

Carnford's tentacles may have already silently reached right under his nose.

The disappearance of Barton and his two companions was likely the first finger extended by the other side, silently shattering the tranquility of his village and leaving a clear warning.

This night was destined to be long and agonizing for Derek and his small village.

The sound of the wind in the distant mountains and forests sounded like the stealthy footsteps of the enemy.