Chapter 40: When the Storm Reveals Hunters

The three of them crouched near the tree line, breaths shallow, eyes fixed on the edge of the forest ahead. They’d spent the last few hours navigating the mountain ridge, searching desperately for another way through. No luck.

“The forest runs right up to a cliff,” Allison muttered, slumping down onto a frozen rock. His voice was tired, edged with frustration.

The sun had already slipped beyond the ice-covered horizon, leaving behind only the dim, silvery glow of a cold night sky.

Luke remained standing, unmoving, his gaze locked on the distant clearing where the Yetis still lingered. Twenty of them, maybe more. Perfectly still. Perfectly alert.

Those weren’t scouts. They were the pack.

He narrowed his eyes.

The one we fought must’ve been a forward scout. When it didn’t return, the rest locked down the exit. Now they’re waiting.

He turned his gaze to Allison.

They weren’t hunting me. They were after him. I just got caught in their net.

“I could handle three at once,” Allison muttered, rubbing his arms for warmth. “Maybe five if they’re dumb enough to clump together… but that’s a pack of twenty.”

Luke turned to him, expression unreadable, and tilted his head slightly. “What’s your class?”

In response, Allison slowly unsheathed his weapon—a katana, narrow and elegant, its blade catching just enough moonlight to gleam faintly in the dark.

“Swordsman,” he said. “My class focuses on high-speed strikes.”

Luke watched the weapon, eyes narrowing.

That explains how he managed to draw on me so fast earlier

He glanced at Princess Charlie. Her warrior class was the opposite—built for raw force and brutal pressure.

“And you?” Allison asked.

“Assassin.”

Allison nodded slowly. “Makes sense.”

In any other situation, Luke would’ve kept his cards close. But if they were going to work together—survive together—then knowing each other’s strengths was essential.

Classes defined group dynamics: mages and archers in the back, fighters up front. Luke had no reason to lie. If they were going to travel together, it made sense to be honest—at least a little.

“I need to get to the wall as soon as possible,” Allison said. “I’ve got reasons. Urgent ones. But we have to be careful. Do you think they’ll move if we wait them out?”

Luke had already considered that. He’d watched the way those creatures operated. This wasn’t random animal behavior.

It was tactical.

“They won’t move,” he said flatly. “We killed their scouts. They’re waiting. If they do leave, it’ll be a small group. The rest will stay behind to hold the exit.”

He tapped a finger against the bark of a nearby tree, thinking.

Why aren’t they rushing us? They could overwhelm us with numbers… but they haven’t. They’re not reckless. They’re being deliberate.

His thoughts drifted back to when he found Allison—weak, half-frozen, nearly unconscious.

And then it clicked.

They didn’t attack him when he first arrived.

They waited.

Waited for him to weaken. For hunger, cold, and fear to wear him down. Then they struck.

Luke’s expression darkened.

“They’re not guarding that exit because they’re scared,” he said.

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Allison looked up. “Then why?”

“They want us to back off. To retreat deeper into the forest. Let the cold, the hunger, the sleepless nights grind us down until we’re too weak to fight back.”

He stared into the trees, feeling a chill crawl up his spine—not from fear, but from realization.

That wasn’t random instinct.

It was strategy.

He’d seen it before.

That was how predators hunted.

The way they moved…

The way they waited…

Luke could feel it now—this wasn’t brute instinct. It was calculated.

Predatory.

They were acting like a pride of lions, singling out the weakest in the herd. Waiting for exhaustion, hunger, and cold to whittle their prey down to nothing before striking. Blocking off the only safe path down the mountain was intentional—they wanted them cornered.

But the Yetis had made one critical mistake.

They weren’t the only predators here.

Luke tightened his grip around his kukris.

“Predators, huh?” he muttered. “Fine. Let’s see how they handle being hunted.”

He glanced at Allison, clad in a rough white cloak made from wolf pelts, then at Charlie.

“I’ve got a plan,” he said. “It’s time we hunt some Yetis.”

***