Deer Head Tattoo

Kas stood by the bed, feeling as though his body had been hollowed out. He watched with a listless expression as Seneya, her complexion radiant, pulled on her linen undergarment and leather coat.

This female hooligan was like a wild beast; her slender waist possessed more strength than a python. While Kas had been fully conscious, she had taken the opportunity to drain him dry.

Looking refreshed, Seneya draped a bear-skin cloak over Kas. She clapped her hands, clearly satisfied with the outfit she had chosen for her husband.

"Our daughter should be awake by now. I hope the Ancestor hasn't been filling her head with any more strange ideas. She's just a little girl; why must he keep lecturing her on clan honor?"

Kas still didn't know how to respond. In his heart, he knew this was a dream, yet he had no idea how to break free from it.

He watched Seneya combing her long hair in front of the mirror, deliberating for a moment before saying:

"Seneya, there is something I need to tell you."

"Speak, then. But if you're going to say you want to join the southward raid this year and leave us mother and daughter to suffer in the tribe, then don't bother."

"I think I might be dreaming."

"Of course you are. You're dreaming that you went through hell and high water to lift the curse of a terrifying werewolf, and that the werewolf turned out to be a great Beauty who could make your eyes pop out of your head. She cooks and cleans for you every day, handles the chores, and even bore you a super cute and sensible daughter. Anyone would think they were dreaming."

Seneya's tone sounded dismissive, but the sense of happiness hidden within her words filled the small cabin.

"I mean, the version of you I see, and all of this—it's a dream."

She turned her head, her expression full of dissatisfaction: "If you eat any more mushrooms, I'll crush your skull with my thighs."

Crushed by those long, powerful legs... the benefits were clear, but what about the drawbacks?

Kas muttered to himself:

"I mean, I have no memory of anything after leaving the Black Ember Tribe—that is, the events after we met Nosa."

Seneya didn't seem to care about this statement. As if remembering something, she added:

"Oh, speaking of Nosa, she mentioned earlier that she wanted to take Luna to go play with Angeli. They both like Luna so much."

What?

Kas felt a jolt in his heart. Setting aside why Luna—a name he had given to his battle-axe—had become his daughter, how could Nosa possibly still be alive?

"Isn't Nosa dead?"

"Stop eating those mushrooms!" Seneya rolled her eyes, feeling that her husband was becoming increasingly strange. She walked up to Kas and said with great seriousness:

"If you eat any more mushrooms and dare to play the fool in front of me again, I'm going to tell everyone your nickname, 'Wolf-Fucker'!"

Wolf-Fucker...

A chill ran through Kas. This couldn't possibly mean... that he had been ravaged by Seneya while she was in her werewolf form, could it?

Recalling the ferocity of the female hooligan just moments ago, he concluded that the probability was not low.

"I'm serious. I might be trapped in the dream of the Lady of Death. It happened at Iron Peak Mountain..."

Seneya let out a few impatient huffs, thinking her husband's mystical, rambling state was starting to turn into Hadi-style abstract nonsense.

"I'm going to prepare breakfast for Luna. She always complains that my cooking isn't good enough. This time, I'll make sure she knows that Mommy is the one who loves her most!"

She clenched her fists, cheering herself on, completely ignoring Kas's clear, vacant gaze as she walked out of the cozy cabin.

Kas paused to collect his thoughts, rubbing his cheeks and chin, which were red and swollen from Seneya's biting. He remained bewildered.

What kind of dream would turn a dull, dim-witted werewolf into a super-stunning Beauty?

And this Beauty was a lovesick woman whose eyes turned into hearts, seemingly wanting to swallow him whole.

He walked to the mirror. According to some strange rumors, a mirror was a reflection of the world; if one were trapped in an illusion and couldn't distinguish reality, one should look for bugs in the mirror.

He touched the rose-like deer antler battle-mark stretching from his forehead to his temple. No issues there.

This was a unique mark for warriors of the Zagwell Clan. Judging by the technique, it must have been tattooed by the Great Shaman himself; otherwise, it wouldn't be so abstract.

He grabbed a handful of his hair. It was a bit greasy; he probably hadn't washed it in a while... ignore that.

His chin had a half-length, brownish-red beard. Seneya had bitten off quite a few strands, but it remained thick, forming a proud flame together with his orange-red hair.

It actually looked quite good. I must keep a beard in the future.

He pulled open his collar, baring his chest to examine the tattoo that spread from his left shoulder to his elbow. Kas pondered, feeling something was off.

Tattoos were vital symbols in Reshman society, primarily falling into three categories.

First, the Guardian Spirit tattoo. People would choose a guardian spirit based on their faith and the traditions of their tribe or clan, tattooing it on their most prominent shoulder.

Those who worshipped the Lady of Death would tattoo a crow clutching an eyeball on their shoulder, while Pierce had a fierce hound.

Generally, people of Her Tribe would choose to tattoo the Ancient Oak, a sacred symbol that had existed for thousands of years, rumored to grant immense vitality and physical strength.

But the tattoo on his shoulder now was neither the Ancient Oak nor the Golden-Branch Giant Antlered Deer totem of the Zagwell Clan. Instead, it was a hideous monster: a white-boned deer skull with glowing red eyes.

A Wendigo? What the hell? The Sorrow Mountains didn't have things like that, did they?

Second, the Identity tattoo, or Nickname tattoo. Warriors would carve abstract patterns of battle-axes or swords on the outside of their arms; hunters would choose arrows and longbows, and poets would choose bone flutes.

The Nickname tattoo would expand based on one's identity. A Dragon-Slayer would have a battle-axe severing a dragon's head, while an Eagle-Eye would add a sharp eye in front of a bow.

But what was I? An oak tree and a battle-axe? The oak must have been tattooed in the wrong place.

Third, the Symbolic tattoo, meant to represent something one longed to remember. People would tattoo the names of their fathers or lovers, or a poignant phrase, on the inside of their arms.

Oath Warriors would tattoo the vows they were bound to uphold; for instance, those who followed Pierce usually bore the vow—Never Fear, while those who revered the Fate Crone bore—Born in Chains.

The Full Moon and the New Moon... could they be referring to Seneya and Luna?

He was still muttering about how there was a major problem with these tattoos when he heard a flurry of faint, hurried footsteps approaching from outside the door.

Just as he pulled his shirt down and turned around, a little girl with short gray hair and azure eyes, wearing an unstarched linen dress, came running toward him with a grin that revealed a few missing baby teeth.

"Daddy! Why are you still being such a sleepyhead?"

The moment he saw Luna, Kas felt something strange; a resonance of shared blood struck his soul directly.

Even though he knew this was a dream, his body's first reaction was to bend down and scoop his "daughter" up into his arms.

Luna pushed against his stubble-covered face with clear disdain: "Daddy, you promised me you'd shave. Every time you rub your face against mine, it's so prickly."

Kas looked silently into those nearly identical icy blue eyes, and he had a feeling.

This girl, whom he was seeing for the first time, was the continuation of his life, a treasure who would one day inherit his land, his name, and his salt.

He looked into Luna's lively eyes, and his heart suddenly softened.

Fine, fine. If this is a dream, then let this old man experience what a happy family feels like for a while before I consider how to leave.

He cradled Luna in the crook of his arm and rubbed his bearded chin against his daughter's tender cheek: "Next time for sure, but right now, I'm going to rub it against you."

"Wuu wuu~" Luna frantically pounded on her untrustworthy father, rubbed her reddened cheek with a look of disgust, and puffed out her cheeks.

"Even though Mommy's cooking is terrible, I still like Mommy more. You're the one I hate the most."