Golden sunlight pierced through the dense forest, casting mottled light and shadow on the leaf-strewn ground.
Alba's bulky torso crouched half behind an ancient oak tree, his bronze-colored muscles faintly visible in the tree shadows. The ancestral bone bow of his clan in his hands was already drawn to the limit, the bowstring taut.
Twenty paces away, a stag lowered its head to drink by the stream, completely unaware that death was approaching.
The Great Chieftain's breathing almost stopped, and the fierce battle markings on his forehead glowed dark red in the sunlight.
Suddenly, an arrow tore through the air, precisely piercing the stag's neck.
"Good marksmanship!" The accompanying Orc Warriors leaped out from the bushes, but Alba was already striding toward the dying prey.
He pinned the still-twitching stag with one hand, pulling out the gem-inlaid dagger at his waist with the other. After a flash of blade light, the stag stopped struggling, and scalding beast blood sprayed onto his bare chest, blending with the scars that symbolized his battle achievements.
"My fledgling eagles, you must all be starving, watch me personally make a delicacy for you!" Alba flicked the blood beads off the blade, his voice echoing in the forest like a low rumble.
Besides fighting and hunting, the Great Chieftain had a wide range of other interests, such as culinary arts. Although the cooking methods on the Great Prairie were relatively crude, they formed a school of their own. Alba was proficient in roasting, and when hunting, in order not to waste the freshness of the ingredients, he often dispatched his prey on the spot to share the grand meal he made with his subordinates.
When he turned around, the totem on his back was clearly visible in the sunlight-it was a wolf head tattooed with indigo