Stalk Strike Survive: From Beast to Legendary Beast Tamer

Unpaid bills sprawled across her father's desk like unraked leaves. Each stamped warning seemed more red than the last. Liana was starting to think they might have produced special ink just to get the message across to her. She'd only read the first one before her heart sank. The Silver City guild had sent their latest threat - no more blessed arrows.

Last month they had stopped loaning them health potions. But even that wasn't as bad as no arrows. No arrows meant no contracts, and no contracts meant...

Liana's fingers found her temples. A trainee Shaman might work, if she could find one desperate enough. In the corner, the leaky roof kept its own ledger, each drip into the copper pot another coin they didn't have. The armory door wheezed on its broken hinge. She'd given up on fixing it after Tommy broke the last good crossbow. She prayed the hunters wouldn't break any more today. At this rate, the Willow Town Guild would not survive past the winter.

"Guild Master?" A messenger boy appeared, face pale. "Hunting party's back. They've brought someone."

She rose, leather stuffing spilling from her chair like entrails. "Casualties?"

The boy nodded reluctantly. The hunters' quarters echoed with empty beds these days. Their small understaffed parties relied on dragons too old to see straight. No Shaman. No tamer either. It was against regulation but the mid-level hunters had long left to greener lands. Only the town-born, like her, stayed now. Maybe they still dreamed of the town as it used to be. More likely, they just had nowhere else to go.

"Two dead. B-But the pack's down. Big one."

"Very well, I will be down shortly."

Liana strode to her chambers, hoping the dead beasts would yield enough pelts to matter. Her mirror showed the truth - dark circles like bruises beneath her eyes. But a clean dress, brushed hair, and her father's practiced smile could hide anything. A guild master's strength was in the performance, especially when the stage was crumbling.

She reached the main hall, smile firmly in place, just as they dragged in a naked man through the doors.

---

Bran cataloged every detail with predator's intensity, even through his dulled human senses. The human town was a maze of decay—closed shops, desperate faces, the stink of poverty that even his weak human nose could detect. Perfect. Fewer witnesses. More shadows. The hunters were drunk on victory and dragon-wine, their guard down. He memorized their patterns, their weaknesses.

The scarred one who'd shot Kira favored his left leg. The balding one who'd burned the younglings alive was already stumbling. The redhead, barely grown enough to be called a woman, who'd complained about being given pelt collection duty walked slowly, pelts weighing down her thin frame. That red hair reminded him of Meera. He had always dreamed of being free from Meera's cruelty but now...The redhead would have to go down first. Three quick kills before they could raise the alarm. Then the rest would—

There words spilled into his mind unbidden, human sounds that somehow made sense: "Guild Master's daughter..." "...Yea,Liana, simled at me the other day..." "Oh please, you don't stand a chance..." The way they arranged the sounds felt wrong in his head, like trying to howl with a human throat. But understanding bloomed anyway, unwanted and undeniable.

Focus. He forced his attention back to planning their deaths. The guild hall ahead was falling apart, its wooden beams rotting. Good. Fewer escape routes for them. His new hands might lack claws, but human fingers could still crush a windpipe if he got the angle right. He'd start with the scarred one, then—

The doors opened, and time stopped.

'She' stood in the doorway, and for one heartbeat, Bran forgot how to breathe. White-gold hair like winter fur. Golden eyes, bright with kindness. The same gentle curve of jaw, the same way of holding herself. It was Ariana . But how? His hands were still wet with her life-blood. The word tore from his throat before he could stop it: "Ariana!"

He rushed at her. How was she alive? More human magic? How did she get here before them? Could they run fast enough on human muscles? But his embrace met human shoulders. No fur. No familiar scent. Perhaps she had been turned human too?Reality crashed back like a physical blow. This wasn't his heart-sister. Ariana was dead, her blood soaking into sacred stone while he watched. This girl, this copy, was staring blankly at him.

"Looks like the new guy's already making moves on his first day," the balding hunter whispered to the others and chuckled.

"I'm Liana," the Ariana look-alike said softly, steadying him. "You're safe now. The beasts can't hurt you anymore."

The irony of her words would have made him laugh if he remembered how. Instead, he forced human sounds past his lips, each one feeling wrong: "Sorry. You... reminded me of someone. From before."

Her face softened with sympathy that made his chest ache. "Come inside," she said. "You need rest. Are you new to town?"

---

Alone in the bare room they'd given him, Bran tested his new body's limits. He leaped, trying to reach the ceiling beam, but his legs barely got him halfway. Even when he got a running start, his fingers only scraped uselessly at the wall where claws should have been. Even simple movements felt wrong—balance off, muscles responding too slowly.

He tried to shift forms, reaching for the wolf that had always lived under his skin. Nothing. Not even a ripple of fur. The emptiness in his mind where pack bonds should be yawned wider, threatening to swallow him whole. He was alone. He was human.

Words kept appearing in his thoughts, human meanings attaching themselves to sounds he shouldn't understand. When Liana brought food, his mouth formed responses without his permission. Each time she appeared, he saw Ariana, making his chest ache.

Through the thin walls, he could hear the hunters celebrating. Their voices carried clearly now that he was getting more used to their muddy human tongue:

"Did you see that big black one go down?"

"Right through the leg! Would've had the pelt if it hadn't crawled off to die somewhere."

Mace. They were talking about Mace. Bran's fingers curled into fists, nails too dull to draw blood from his palms. Soon. When they were deepest in their cups, when the moon was highest...

---

In the scorched forest, Meera ran. The Beast King's voice filled her skull, each word a hammer against bone.

*WHERE IS YOUR PACK, ALPHA?*

Fur fell from her orange coat in clumps, skin bleeding where she'd clawed at her own ears trying to silence the voice. The pack bonds were gone, every last one snapped like thread. The Beast King did not tolerate such failures.

*YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM ME, LITTLE ALPHA.*

She stumbled, muscles spasming as another wave of his presence decimated her mind. Blood dripped from her eyes, staining the ashes red. Before, she might have held on. But without the pack, she felt weak and glass fragile.

*FIND THEM OR FACE JUDGMENT.*

A distant howl made her freeze. One of her pack had survived? Hope and terror warred in her chest. The howl came from the direction of the human town. If she could reach them, rebuild...

*SOMEONE MUST ANSWER FOR THIS LITTLE ALPHA.*

The voice crashed through her skull again, dropping her to her knees. Reality distorted momentarily, and she could swear she felt the Beast King's giant claw on her throat. Shadows moved with impossible weight, pressing against her fur. The very air grew heavy with his presence.

Meera turned south toward the wild lands. She made it three steps before darkness swallowed her vision and the Beast King's full attention turned upon her like a physical weight.

Through the pain, a bargain formed. A whispered promise that might save her skin:

*THE REBELS SURVIVED. I CAN GET THEM BACK FOR YOU TO PUNISH AS YOU SEE FIT , OH MONARCH OF PREY.*

The pressure eased, just slightly. Just enough to let her breathe. Just enough to start planning.

---

Dawn crept in slowly in the human town, like a wounded animal. Bran moved through the guild hall's shadows, tracking his prey. He'd waited too long, unconfident in his weak human limbs. The hunters were finally leaving, staggering each step. Their laughter echoed off crumbling walls—jokes about pelts and trophies and even lewder comments about the Guild Master Liana. For some reason, that made him want to kill them more.

His new human hands felt clumsy, but he'd practiced all night. He knew exactly how much pressure it would take to crush a windpipe, exactly where to strike to rupture a kidney.

"Bran!" Liana's voice shattered his focus. She was hurrying toward him, excitement in her eyes. "We caught one alive!"

His heart stuttered. "What?"

"One of the beasts that attacked you. It's chained in the holding cells. Hunters brought it in" Her smile faltered at his expression. "I thought... don't you want to see? If you want, you can have a piece of the pelt for your quarters—"

He was already running, revenge forgotten. One of his pack had survived. The thought burned through him like fire. Behind him, Liana chased, redirecting him when he opened the wrong doors.

The holding cells were underground and stank of fear and silver. Even his dull nose could detect it, his body remembering the sting. In the furthest cell, a massive black wolf lay bound, whining. Mace. His fur was matted with blood and burns, the silver arrow still protruding from his thigh, breathing laboured.

Mace's head snapped up at their approach, nostrils flaring. Recognition blazed in his golden eyes. A low growl started in his throat, but it wasn't a threat—it was their old greeting, the sound they'd used since they were pups together.

"Stay back," Liana warned, but Bran was already moving forward.

The growl shifted to a soft whine. Mace's tail thumped once against the floor, head lowering in submission. Even injured, he was enormous—standing at least two meters, with paws wide as a human torso. His ears swiveled forward, catching every sound, while his nose worked constantly, scenting the air in the way Bran no longer could.

"Incredible!" Liana clapped her hands together. "You're a tamer! Oh, I... I can't remember when we last had one. Did one of the guilds send you? Ah, hold on, I'll be right back—"

She hurried away, footsteps echoing on stone. Bran waited until she was gone before pressing close to the bars. Hand met confused paw. He wanted to call out, not in the muddy human tongue but in the strong beast tongue. He wanted to beg his pack brother forgiveness. He wanted to mourn Ariana's death. To tell him he would get revenge even if it killed him.

The next moment, the air was rippling, like it did the previous night the Hunter in Black was casting his spell. Glowing words, written in a strange ancient language, floated around his face . And the next moment, he spoke in the beast tongue: "*Brother*"

The air rippled around his mouth like heat waves, the word feeling strange on his human tongue. Mace's ears pricked forward.

"*Brother*?" Mace's response was barely a breath. "*How? What did they do to you*?"

"*I don't know brother.*" Tears welled up. "*Is that girl Ariana too? She doesn't have her scent .*"

Bran shook his head, throat tight. "*Ariana's gone, brother. We need to go bury her and the others. So they can run with the ancestors.*"

Mace looked down at his shackles, chains jingling. "*I can't leave. My time has come.*"

"*No, I will get you out.*"

"*How?*"

Silence followed, heavy with shared grief.

"*The girl...does she know who you are?*."

"*No, she called me a tamer*." Bran's chest tightened. "*I think it might be important to the humans. Maybe I can use it*."

When Liana returned, contract in hand, Bran chose his words carefully. The human sounds still felt wrong in his mouth, appearing in his mind like strange magic. "You called me a tamer?"

"Yes! We haven't had one in years. This changes everything!" Her excitement was genuine, but he could see the desperation beneath it. The way her clothes were carefully mended, the hollowness in her cheeks hidden by a bright smile. "I know your services are in demand, but I'm willing to offer—"

"This is important to you?"

"The guild is all I have left of my father." The words tumbled out before she caught herself. "I mean... yes. A good tamer can mean the difference between life and death for a hunting guild." She coughed, seemingly embarrassed, "Uh, speaking of which, which guild sent you? I think may have gone overboard and requested every mid level guild in the country"

Bran stared at her perplexed. He wasn't sure if all humans were this honest to strangers but he couldn't deny the warmth he felt around her. " I wasn't sent."

Liana's eyes lit up, the same way Ariana's used to but she didn't have a wagging tail to accompany it. "So you're independent then, a wanderer. Well that's even better. No extra guild fees and politics."

She cleared her throat and straightened her back, "Well, Sir Bran, I would like to offer you employment. It can be a short contract. I will provide housing and meals for you and any beasts you train. I will give you priority hunt and the best of our hunting party. Now, I know it doesn't look like much but with your help, this guild can get back on track."

Bran stared at her anxious eyes and swallowed. "Then I will help. But first I must take the beast back to the forest. Just for a moment."

Her excitement dimmed. "That's not protocol. The forest can still be dangerous and you just got here and—"

"I will bring you another," he said quickly, the lie bitter on his tongue. "To prove my worth. And I will agree to whatever arrangement you want."

She was silent for what seemed to be forever and simply stared into his eyes. Could she see the lie? Ariana always could. Bran wondered if he'd have to take Mace by force. Would they both manage to make it out alive?

"Okay, I'll trust you, " she said matter-of-factly."Stay safe and come back. I promise you won't regret it "

---

The morning sun had burned away the smoke, leaving the air clean and sharp. The forest looked shriveled up and weak, most of the north slope close to their den burnt away. They made their way to the river shrine slowly, Mace limping beside him. The arrow wound in his thigh leaked black blood, and his breathing was labored. But he moved with the fluid grace of a true wolf, even injured—a grace Bran had lost with his transformation.

They found Ariana's body where he'd left it. The sight hit him harder through human eyes—she looked smaller somehow, more fragile. Together, they dug her grave with whatever they could find. His human hands bled on the rocks as they piled them over her resting place.

The scene triggered a memory, sharp as a silver blade:

*Three young wolves, hardly more than pups, huddled under moonlight. Ariana's white-tipped tail curled around them both as she spoke:

"Promise me," she whispered. "Promise we'll be free one day. All of us."

"I promise, heart-sister," Bran said as Ariana pulled them closer together, pressing close. "By blood and bone," and Mace completed, "By fang and claw."*

"*What now*?" Mace's voice brought him back to the present. "*You must be our alpha. There is no one else left*."

"*No. I'm not even a wolf anymore. I can't*—"

"*We can find the Beast King. Surely he can turn you back through the bond "

Bran shook his head, " *The bond is broken brother. I can't hear the Beast King. If we go to him, he might..."

"*Then we run," Mace began. But when his eyes found Bran, he was staring back down the trail to the human town. "*Brother, surely you don't mean to go back "

"The human girl , Ariana's double, she said she could house us. Feed us. The humans seem to need Tamers and noone knows beastfolk more than us. " He looked back at Mace who was staring in disbelief. "Mace, we can survive like we always dreamed."

"*Brother, I will follow you wherever you lead but this-"

A twig snapped. They turned as a figure emerged from the scorched underbrush. Meera. She must've been watching them while they were too caught up to notice. She always was a silent killer. However, she looked sickly. Her orange fur was falling out in patches, blood crusting around her eyes and ears. Mace reflexively stood infront of Bran who was already in a fighting posture. Meera looked weak enough that they might stand a small chance of beating her. The next moment however, Meera shifted into the half form, body exposed.

"*Please*," she gasped, dropping to her knees in submission. "*The Beast King comes. His voice fills my mind. The pack is gone and I... I can't*..." She crawled forward. "*Take me in. Make me yours. I submit to your will as alpha. Just don't leave me alone*."

Mace snarled, but the sound was weak. "*After what you did to us? To Ariana*?"

But Bran was already moving forward. He remembered the emptiness in his mind where the pack bonds had been. The horrible silence. Would he condemn anyone to that, even Meera?

"*Swear it*," he said. "*Swear your loyalty by the old words*."

"*Bran, what are you doing? We can't trust this she-devil. She will slit our throats the first chance she gets."

But Bran remained silent and Meera quickly began the oath.

"*By blood and bone,by fang and claw, I submit to your will as alpha*." The traditional words carried power. He felt it settle over them like a mantle, heavier than any chain. For a moment he thought he felt something in his mind.

"*Then rise*," he said. "*We are going back to the human town*."

Mace was visibly upset but he didn't quarel further. Behind them, the sun climbed higher, casting their shadows long across Ariana's grave. Three shadows—two wolves and their human alpha—stretched and merged in the morning light. In the back of Meera's mind, the Beast King's presence receded like a tide, leaving behind the whispered echo of their bargain.

Deep in the forest, reality rippled. Shadows moved with purpose. The Beast King's attention turned southward, patient as mountains. The hunt was only beginning.