Gru originally planned to finish them off in order of age, but decided that since Wail was the weakest of the seven, it was best to finish him off quickly. He didn't know what the other three might be up to, but he understood that a cub of Wail's size wouldn't be able to defend himself or cause him any trouble.
"It's not like my plan was to seriously fight them all; the cub named Bru was just an example," he wanted to send a message. "Lose already or else," Gru thought.
When Gru chose Wail's team as his next victim, the brothers looked in shok. Gru took it as a good sign. "One more example, and that's it."
Meanwhile, at the elders' table, Wail's grandfather looked on without much interest.
Mrog was the strongest of his generation. He wasn't originally destined to be the family's leader, but the Black Forest took all the other candidates, and only he remained. He had survived countless battles and won many honors; many of his children had become legends and were idolized.
Perhaps that's why this little game didn't interest him. Yes, he felt a little sorry for the injured pup, but something like that wouldn't kill him.
In fact, he had found it amusing when the two cubs surprised Gru, but that was all. In his mind, the whole thing was nothing more than a childish ceremony, and he just hoped it would be over soon.
"We'd better stop the event," Drog, his son and the strongest of his latest litter, told him.
"Um? Are you worried that Gru might hurt another of your pups? Relax, even he wouldn't be childish enough to commit the same infraction twice," Mrog said, responding to a nonexistent concern.
"It's not that. If you don't stop the event, something bad could happen," Drog replied to his father.
Drog was a very experienced hunter, not the type to do things lightly, and if his father hadn't been so drunk, he most likely would have heard him.
Gru was in danger.
Of course, Drog had no proof; his only clue was the site of a battle.
----------
A few months prior.
Grul and Growl had no reason to lie to him. So when they told him what had happened, he immediately set off to investigate, and when he found the milon's body, he was shocked.
Milons aren't even close to being among the strongest beasts you'll find on the other side of the wall. They're very small and opportunistic, and they generally only attack when they think they can win.
But Drog knew it should be impossible for a cub to defeat a milon. Not only that. Wail was unharmed. On the other hand, the site of the battle and the beast's body told Drog that it wasn't a fight. It was a one-sided massacre.
Would Gru lose to a milon? No, the young wolf was the best of his generation.
Would he be able to win without a single scratch? No, the milon wasn't one of the strongest, but he came from outside the wall. An inexperienced fighter couldn't kill him without taking damage.
"Please stop the event, Father, before it's too late," Drog begged his father. For only someone with his authority could stop such an ancient tradition.
"Ha, I didn't think I'd see you of all people spoiling your pups. If you'd asked me, I would have said you'd be the cruelest of parents," Mrog announced. Grok ignored the criticism.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Grok announced and said no more.
Wail was standing in front of Gru. He looked him straight in the eyes. Growl trembled. At that moment, his brother looked the same as he had that time.
"It's just like when he defeated you," Clak commented.
"No, it's like when he finished off the Milon," Growl and Grul thought.
Gru was standing with the handkerchief in his hand, about to throw it when, "wait," Wail stopped him. "Before we start, could you tell me why?"
"Um? stalling?" Gru asked. Wail thought he imagined a mocking smile on the young wolf's face. "To send a message," Gru replied.
Wail just looked him in the eye. The rest of Wail's team was trembling behind him, but Wail had already forgotten about them.
"Very well," Wail said in the forest language, and all the pups around him heard him. "Let's send a message then," he thought.
Grul tossed the handkerchief into the air. In the few seconds it took for it to hit the ground, many things went through his brothers' minds. But never that Wail would lose.
Then the handkerchief hit the floor.
How many pups were able to understand what had happened? Possibly only Growl, and even he would have difficulty explaining it.
How many hunters? Only those who were very attentive.
Gru fell to his knees . He was unconscious.
Wail was standing next to him. There was blood on his hand.
The elders couldn't believe it. His father, still expressionless, just watched.
Wail just walked away.
Mrog stared at the little wolf.
If there was a moment of true silence during the entire meeting, it was this one. Only Wail's footsteps sounded, he made his way to Drog, and when he was close, "I want to go home, Dad," he said awkwardly.
"He has too many useless movements," Mrog thought.
"As soon as we can move Bru, we'll leave," Drog replied.
Wail nodded and headed to the food table.
Growl followed behind Wail, followed by Grul and Clak. Soon, the four brothers were communicating and eating as if nothing had happened, while the rest of the crowd watched.
Drog knew this wasn't good for Wail.
----------
It took Bru a week to recover, which showed the seriousness of his injuries.
Wail and the other brothers kept him company the whole time.
Wail didn't want to stray too far; he didn't think Bru really needed him; after all, he had Lass's full attention, but he was having a good time with his brothers lately. So instead of getting lost in the forest, he decided to walk through the village to kill time and not stray too far.
It seemed strange to him that he'd never been curious about the village. The first time he'd even thought about it was during his punishment, when he had to carry sacks of seeds to different places.
Now that he walked through it, he could see that it was beautiful; artificial streams crisscrossed the place, feeding the houses and plantations, a stark contrast to the enormous aqueducts visible from above and surrounding the village.
The houses were made of logs and stone, half of them buried in the ground. The roofs were covered with fur and moss. It reminded him of the Viking houses he'd seen on a certain documentary in his past life.
Further toward the center of the village was a small market. The wolves, mostly male, bartered their wares, but Wail had occasionally seen them exchange certain types of stone as money. Then he entered something like a street, the only place with large buildings. They looked like meeting houses or auditoriums.
There were females here and there, but most were elderly and the occasional woman with small puppies around (all over a year old, of course). But there were far fewer of them than Wail expected.
He continued walking and saw farm animals he didn't recognize. What he had mistakenly thought from a distance were pigs turned out to be giant rabbits with saw-like fangs. The goats were some kind of reptile with long legs and horns. Perhaps the only thing that was truly normal were the hens and chickens. Wail stared at them for a long time, trying to find any differences from the ones he remembered from his past life, but gave up when he realized his past self wasn't an expert on chickens, and even if there was a noticeable difference, he wouldn't know.
On a separate note, the libiros-pens in his house were filled with libiros, or as Wail called them, rabbit-pigs, which he had given to his mother.
Soon he spotted something new. Children, no, cubs. Older than Wail. They looked about twelve years old, so Wail concluded they must be five or six.
There were eight of them in total. As soon as they noticed Wail, they approached. Wail wasn't on guard. He didn't know how good hunters these children were, but he was sure they weren't stronger than Grul or Growl. He could smell it.
Even so, the children blocked his way.
"Stop! Who dares to invade the Glaso hunting party's territory!" said a cub, the smallest of them.
Wail watched them; he wasn't challenging them, he had no intention of starting a fight. He assumed they were playing, so he just replied, "Hello, I'm a Farunt, nice to meet you," as casually as possible.
The pups looked at him with distrust and disbelief, and one of them said, "Do you know what happens to pups who dare to invade our territory dwarf?" in a mocking tone, or as mocking as his body language allowed.
A vein appeared on Wail's forehead. He knew he was small and didn't like being made fun of for it, but he took a deep breath and continued on his way.
The cubs blocked Wail's path again. "Woa, where are you going? Don't you want to play with your older brothers?" said another, who had been silent until now, grabbing Wail's shoulder.
Wail noticed the pup digging its claws into him, not enough to harm him, but enough to make him unable to let go. "Move and I'll hurt you," Wail understood.
Wail just grabbed his wrist and applied force.
"Waa!" The pup blurted out, its eyes widening and becoming round in surprise. He let go of Wail and tried to get away.
So Wail decided to let go and not escalate things.
The puppy fell when he was suddenly released. The others watched, not understanding what was happening.
Embarrassed, he stood up and kicked Wail, who stepped back and dodged it easily. The puppy lost his balance and fell back to the ground.
"Hey" a pup who had been silent until now growled and communicated. "You're embarrassing us" to the puppy who had been confronting Wail.
He stood up, trembling, and took several steps back. Wail concluded that the one who had growled was the leader, as he was the largest of the group.
"Can I go?" Wail asked the enormous pup. The pup looked at him, trying to decipher whether Wail was serious or just being silly.
Brut originally wanted to scare the dwarf pup, but now he had to punish him, otherwise the other groups around would start taking them lightly.
Gray wolf society was harsh. Young wolves born to servants had only one chance to escape servitude, and that was to become hunters.
How did servant wolves have wives? It was simple: they bought them. Hunters gave their servants great freedom, as long as they continued paying tribute. Many servants managed to become rich, or the definition of rich for a gray wolf. Which is why servants with wives existed. Of course, they could never marry the best females; those were exclusive to the best hunters, but with enough money, they could acquire those that no hunter chose. The smallest, the least intelligent, some that no one chose at the time and whose age was no longer appropriate, and even, in some cases, crossbreeds of other wolf races that were aesthetically acceptable.
Of course, servants were seen as nothing more than parasites. The hunters didn't really need them; if one day all the servants disappeared, the hunters wouldn't lose anything. A life without honor, that was the life of a servant.
The worst part was the selection. Upon reaching the age of twelve, all gray wolves are tested; the result will determine their place in society; half will end up as hunters, the dream of every servant's children. The problem was the other destinies. If they ended up as servants, it would be a disappointment, but they would simply return home, and most would try to save up, working the rest of their lives to buy a wife. Most will never make it, of course. The other destinies... it was better not to talk about them.
Therefore, to become strong, and since they didn't have access to the forest like the hunters' children, the young wolf children of servants formed gangs and competed with each other for territory.
Their parents, of course, encouraged them because, although they possessed wealth, the truth is that most would have between twenty and thirty children in their lifetime, and that's a lot of children to inherit or support.
Therefore, the children of servants can't afford to lose credibility, otherwise other gangs wouldn't take them seriously.
"Rec, make him cry," Brut ordered. One of the pups closest to him moved quickly toward Wail and aimed for an arm with its claws. Wail dodged and connected with a hook to his stomach.
"Owl!" the air was heard leaving the lungs of the cub named Rec before he fell to the ground.
Everyone was surprised. Brut knew Rec wasn't weak. Quite the opposite, for he had defeated larger cubs with him.
Brut was on guard. He didn't know who this dwarf was, but he wasn't a normal cub.
"Who are you?" Brut asked. The cubs around him had surrounded Wail. It seemed strange to him that Wail still remained calm in this situation.
Wail frowned, taking a moment before answering. "I'm a Farunt," he finally repeated.
The cubs broke out in a cold sweat. They were standing before the son of a hunter. Many had never even been near a hunter's home, let alone laid eyes on one.
Brut looked at Wail, no longer so sure of himself. He wasn't afraid of Wail, but he was afraid of the consequences of hurting a hunter's son.
"Ha! Who would believe such a story? Why would a son of the Farunt be on this side of the village?" Brut said, somewhat nervously.
Wail noticed and decided to play his cards. "Whether you believe me or not is not my problem, I'm just out for a walk," Wail said nonchalantly. "Do you want to take the risk?" he concluded.
Brut wasn't known for his patience; Wail's arrogant and careless attitude made him communicate something he shouldn't have. "Your little 'Wail,'" he emphasized the word.
It was Wail's turn to open his eyes wide. He was trembling; he never thought he'd be so offended to hear his name used as an insult.
Brut felt better seeing the dwarf so surprised. "What's going on? Does a son of the Farunt get offended by a small word?" Brut provoked, but Wail wasn't listening anymore.
No one called Wail by his name. Not his brothers, not his mother, not even his father. In fact, Drog sometimes expressed regret for having given him that name.
His brothers called him big brother. His mother called him little one. And his father only called him, but didn't use his name.
So he'd almost forgotten how offensive it was. Until someone used it as an insult.
Seeing that it was working, Brut continued, "The dwarf wants to cry."
"Prey," Brut announced, while the other pups around Wail began to mock him. "Shorty, retard, dog, pet, Wail," they mockingly announced.
"What's wrong? Do you want your mom?" Brut mockingly announced.
That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
A moment later, Brut was flying through the air, falling into a nearby pond, unconscious.
Wail turned to see the rest of the pups, who looked at him in surprise.
A smile appeared on Wail's face. That day, Glaso's hunting group was defeated.
---------------
When he returned home, Wail felt refreshed; he had released a lot of stress he didn't know he had accumulated. He hadn't really hurt them; he made sure they only lost consciousness. He didn't break any bones or leave any permanent injuries.
His brothers watched him and walked away.
"You look very relaxed, big brother, it's creepy," Growl commented.
"Don't mind me," Wail said with a smile.