Novek wasn't certain what exactly was going on, but he was certain he didn't have the whole picture.

  Why the sudden shift to, and then back away from murderous behavior? Were there two completely different groups? Or a philosophical disagreement within a single one?

  There hadn't been any discussions or mention of prior conflict with Ber or Ber'Duun — which honestly surprised Novek. He was almost certain initially this was going to turn out to be some hidden grudge that the villagers felt they were cleverly disguising but was obvious about fifteen minutes in, but if it was that, absolutely nobody had slipped up. He'd had his time-tested ‘I do not get involved in interspecies arguments’ speech all ready to go.

  The Ber, and he was sure it was either Ber, or Ber'Duun at this point, clearly weren't nocturnal or limited to low-light activity like he'd originally surmised. Why had they been well outside of town harassing the wagon? And more importantly, why hadn't they followed it into the village or killed or wounded the horses? The people on it wouldn't have stood a chance, and any Ber smart enough to spook the horses could see it. Were they looking for something maybe? And then realized it wasn't there? Okay his intuition was telling him that he was getting closer to getting it.

  He decided he needed more information before he, or someone else made a terrible mistake. With information from the villagers tapped out, there were only two other methods of getting the information he wanted. Asking the opposing force — that was right out, they'd killed half a dozen people in minutes. That left his own recon efforts — right then, better get to it.

  He checked over his weapons again — force of habit — and knocked on the door, letting the ex-militia standing guard just outside know he was going to go out and look around. The man was either a fatalist or a realist, though, as all he said in response was, “Alright, but it's your funeral.”

  With the eyes of a number of anxious villagers on him, he stepped out into the street, and the door was closed and barred again behind him. He debated telling the guard that they'd both likely be dead before they could get the door unbarred if they were attacked, but decided the man probably already knew.

  To work, then.

  The crossbow was kept sweeping side to side, spanned and loaded with the boxed bolts atop the stock — they could be fired at any angle, as fast as he could span the crossbow — a few seconds each. Novek kept his head always on a swivel, eyes scanning side to side, keeping close to the building walls on the side of the street as he walked down towards the stables. If the assailants had followed the wagon or the horse in, he might be able to detect some sign there.

  Uplifted tiger vision wasn't much better than Human — at least not during daylight hours, and this still counted as the sun was still over the horizon for a few minutes more. Novek's original vision hadn't been nearly as good at a distance, but the uplift process filed off a lot of rough edges. He'd lost some of his night vision in exchange, but could still read by starlight. None of that helped him now, and he assumed his night-vision would be, at best, on par with the Ber. No advantage there.

  His hearing, however, was exceptional. Aside from simply being more sensitive, it differed from Human hearing in that he could pinpoint the source of sounds with far greater speed and accuracy. This hearing told him that something was padding quietly on the rooftops above him, keeping out of sight. A single source, so if there were others, they weren't here, or they were remaining still and silent.

  His sense of smell was also reduced, but still an order of magnitude greater than Human. As it had once been explained to Novek, the biological structures were all still there, just as sensitive as always, but his brain spent less time paying attention to smells and instead focused more on trying to be ‘him’.

  He moved to the opposite side of the street, in the hope of getting a look at whatever was clearly keeping pace with him. The smell of the Ber above him was almost tangy. Acidic? The memory of where and when he'd encountered that specific scent before rose up in his mind unbidden — it had been during an ambush of his company's camp, years ago. He glanced up to the roof slowly, smoothly, and saw nothing. No surprise there. Yes, it was time to return to the inn. As fast as he could manage while appearing outwardly calm and unalerted.

  On his way back through the outlying buildings used by the transient workers and poorer members of the village, his ears flicked to the side at a scratching noise coming from one of the houses. Well, house was being a bit generous. It wasn't run down enough to be a shack. Hut, then — hut was more than fair. Was this the attack? He jerked to a stop as he went to full alert, hackles raised, and stopped to listen.

  As quickly as he'd gone on alert, he put the relaxed attitude back on. Fur smoothed back down along his spine; ears stopped their twitching sweep. That wasn't an attack; the claws were clearly soft and small, the timbre of them on the wood was entirely wrong to be a missed threat. Most likely an agitated pet left alone during the defense, so his thinking went.

  Until the tang hit his nose again — not a thin wafting in the air, but a cloying cloud that leaked from the house. It was different — incomplete somehow, but unmistakably similar. This wasn't some pet. Someone had a small Ber in their house. A vodat kit.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Oh, you poor, stupid fools.

  Out from his tool belt came two thin metal bars, which slid into an extension socket to form a suitable pry bar.

  If he was right, some idiot had either stolen a Ber's kit, or kidnapped a Ber'Duun child. A vodat kit, specifically — known for being assassins in the night whose physiology let them eat through glass, metal, almost anything, given time.

  Novek kept his voice a low rumble, and called softly up towards the rooftop where he'd last heard the padding.

  “I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm going to get your kit free, give it back to you, and just walk away. Alright? Just give me some time, please.”

  The padding noise suddenly stopped. Acknowledgment, or wariness at the noise? Novek couldn't tell. He'd risk it. He wedged the pry bar into the locked door — he'd checked — and cracked the door-jamb on his first try. A loud snap echoed down the street, and he refocused, preparing to finish the job.

  He'd clearly been overly distracted by the Ber and the noise of breaking into the house. He hadn't heard the man tailing him, and the man stepped out into the street two houses back.

  “What exactly do you think you're doing, brinny?” It was Lennert, and the fool had decided to come out alone, with only a spear.

  Ah. Of course. The pieces snapped into place in his mind.

  “I'm trying to fix your mistake, kid. You're playing a dangerous game here, and it's already cost six people their lives.”

  “You don't know anything about anything. I've done nothing illegal — nothing wrong. You're breaking into my house.”

  “Stop playing stupid. You, or your friends, found a Ber kit — or is it a Ber'Duun kid, and what, you got sent to arrange to sell it at town. You knew why the town was attacked, and you didn't say a word.”

  “The rakking beasts won't be able to do anything now that the village is alert, and the kit will be gone by tomorrow, I swear it. I didn't grab it, but the guys who did are dead. What's done is done. Leave it be.”

  “It's not that simple. They know you. Smelled you — and their kit on you. They didn't try to intercept that cart for no reason.”

  “They won't know it's me. I didn't touch it, and we kept it in a black bag so they couldn't… see what it saw, or something… just like he said to do.”

  “So you did know what it was — or you thought you did. Lennert, I'm not even one of them and I can smell it on you, faint, but obvious.”

  “What? That's not… they're just beasts. They're stupid animals. They can't know anything!”

  “That's where you're wrong, kid. Ber aren't stupid even before they're awakened, and these might be Awakened — which would make them Ber'Duun, people, and this kidnapping.”

  “You can't possibly know that. They haven't said a word! They're just Ber!”

  His contact had told him how to blind the shared vision of the pack, but not this?

  “Kid, listen to me. Vodat can't speak. None of them can. Your guy didn't tell you that, but I guarantee he knew. And the biggest point in favor of these being Ber'Duun, and not Ber? You're not already dead. One of them has been listening to us talk this whole time.”

  Lennert froze in place, disbelieving.

  The sun finally fell beneath the horizon, and dusk settled in for the night. Only the highest clouds above, and a distant mountain peak remained illuminated. Lennert needed to decide if he was going to get smart soon, before true night fell; the kid didn't have a torch and the town was dark and unlit except the inn and mill in the distance.

  At that moment, the Ber appeared, faintly glowing green eyes rising up from where it had been pressed flat against the roof.

  The vodat, and that was what this was — Novek had fought their kind before — fixed their gaze down at them. It looked down, pawed the roof of the building containing the kit twice, and then returned to staring at them. Calmly, slowly, with intent. But not kindly. No, definitely not kindly.

  Lennert was a statue, locked in place; staring at the eyes.

  “Kid. Listen to me. You may be the luckiest bastard on the planet. Open the door. Give them their kit. Live through the day.”

  Lennert was alone outside with only an improvised spear and an unsympathetic Brin. The appearance of the vodat above finally made up his mind. Probably — thankfully — for the first time this week, by Novek's reckoning, the kid made the right decision.

  “Okay. Okay. Let me open the door. Don't do anything to me. I didn't know. How could I know?”

  Novek wasn't certain Lennert was being sincere until the kid propped his spear up against the side of the hut and moved to pull a key from a ring on his jerkin, awkwardly, due to the encroaching dark. He'd have kept hold of that spear if he was going to pull some ill-considered double-cross.

  Given what he knew about vodat combat capabilities, Novek was fairly certain this one had to desire peace, even in the face of a kidnapped child. If the vodat — Ber, or Ber'Duun — wanted this entire village dead, including Novek, they could have waited a few hours and done the job without anyone ever waking up or sounding an alarm. Stealth assassination was one of the roles they were typically employed for, though their primary function was more akin to stakeout surveillance, and they were naturally among the best at both. It may have been, that the only thing stopping a quiet slaughter, was that vodat hadn't been sure was where the kit was; or if it was even in the village.

  He still didn't understand the morning's attack at all. Was there a second party or something? Perhaps this later encounter wasn't a parent, but a pack elder who was trying to avoid an incident? Were they triangulating the kit and the farmhands stumbled on them somehow? That made no sense though.

  It didn't matter. There was no stand-up fight to be had here. If one or more vodat wanted to siege the town, they could, so the only path to follow was peace.

  If the Ber wasn't vindictive — maybe they felt things had already been evened out this morning — Novek dared to hope they might all make it out of this without further bloodshed.

  Novek felt something faint pass through him, like an aetheric Talent touching his soul. He'd felt similar on the battlefield facing against some unusual Ber before, but this felt different — subtle, but encompassing. Was the vodat doing something? Or was it just his instincts forewarning him, mixed with his own fear — that he mistook for an external influence?

  The Vodat's whole body shuddered all at once, and then it went suddenly, inexplicably mad.