The autumn wind swirled dead leaves through the valley entrance, making the teeth in the mouths of the Gork and Mork statues howl.
The forest had long lost its summer bustle; most of the leaves had fallen, and the bare branches poked into the sky, looking listless; the grass on the ground had also yellowed, crisp underfoot, breaking with a snap.
The entire woods exuded a desolate air, even the normally noisy birds were fewer, only the whooshing sound of the wind through the treetops, a bit eerie to hear.
But inside the Blackrock Clan, it was warm.
Kurzadh had ordered the greenskins to hoard food early, and now the granary (actually a large shed) was piled full—the goblin scaled the uneaten fish, stringing them on branches to smoke over the fire until they were blackened, their savory smell detectable from afar; the 'mushroom heads' harvested from the mushroom field weren't wasted either,
the large ones were boiled into soup, the small ones dried and stacked in sacks, hard enough to make a sound when tapped; the more than thirty goats in the pen were even more energetic, eating dried mushrooms and cut hay, each one fat and strong, with newborn lambs bleating happily under the ewes;
the wild hens in the coop also laid eggs frequently, five or six a day could be collected, and Kurzadh had them saved for hatching chicks, making the greenskins drool but not daring to steal.
"We definitely won't starve this winter," Kurzadh said, grinning as he looked at the granary from the second-floor window of the chief's house.
He was shirtless, his greenskin gleaming in the sun, his muscle definition much more pronounced than when he first transmigrated—all thanks to daily exercise.
At this moment, he was holding two fist-sized stones in his hands, doing push-ups on a stone bed.
The stones thumped against the wooden planks, making the bed frame tremble; his arm muscles bulged, and with each downward press, he exhaled a "whoosh."
"Ninety-eight..." he counted through gritted teeth, sweat trickling down his forehead, dripping onto the wild wolf fur covering, spreading a small wet patch.
Being a chief meant acting like a chief.
The greenskin rules were simple—whoever could fight best was in charge; if some day an unobservant one dared to challenge him, and he lost, he would have to vacate the chief's position for them.
Before, he relied on the title of "God's herald of Gork and Mork" to maintain order, but now his physique also had to keep up, otherwise, if he were truly knocked down by a single punch from a hobgoblin, he would lose immense face.
"Ninety-nine..." He was pushing down hard when he suddenly heard "ao ao" shouts from outside the tribe, mixed with the sound of stone spears hitting wood, making people uneasy.
"Damn it! What's going on?" Kurzadh abruptly pushed himself up, no longer bothering to count to one hundred, grabbed the ragged cloth next to him, threw it over his body, and rushed downstairs barefoot.
The wooden planks in the stairwell thumped under his feet; by the stone slab where meetings were held on the first floor, Wreelx was swinging a axe back and forth, and seeing Kurzadh descend, immediately shouted: "Chief! Quick! Something's happened outside!"
"Why the panic!" Kurzadh kicked him, "What the hell happened?"
"Wolves! Lots of wolves!" Wreelx's face turned pale, pointing towards the valley entrance, "They're outside the palisade! A dense mass!"
Kurzadh's heart sank.
He rushed out the door in three strides; by now, dusk had fallen, the yellow light of twilight casting long shadows in the tribe.
The greenskins were all crowded by the palisade, the goblin scared and burrowing behind the hobgoblins, who held up their stone spears, eyes wide, Hissing and pointing outside.
"Move aside!" Kurzadh pushed through the crowd to the palisade, peering out between the wooden stakes—Good heavens! A circle of wild wolves really surrounded the palisade!
At least thirty or forty of them! Each one like a small calf, with dirty gray fur, so thin their ribs were clearly visible, their eyes glowing green in the dim light, like poisoned blades.
They hung their tails, growling low "woof woof" in their throats, their front paws digging at the ground, kicking up clumps of dirt; some even lunged at the palisade, scratching the wood with their claws, leaving white marks.
Most striking was the large wolf hiding behind the pack—it was half a head taller than the other wild wolves, its fur was black, and it had a scar on its face, slanting from its eye to the corner of its mouth, looking fierce.
It didn't come forward, but squatted on a small mound ten steps from the palisade, its green eyes staring intently at Kurzadh, like a wolf cub, with a calculating look.
"These beasts are starving mad," Kurzadh thought, crystal clear.
After autumn, food in the forest was scarce, and animals had migrated south; these wild wolves must have found no food , smelled the sheep and meat in the tribe, and decided to target the greenskins .
"Chief, should we shoot arrows?" Dragu approached, holding a bow with an arrow fletched with wild hen feathers, its tip a sharpened iron piece, glinting coldly, "I'll take off that black wolf's head with one shot!"
"Don't rush," Kurzadh said, pressing his hand.
He glanced at the greenskins around him—all fifteen hobgoblins were present, five holding bows with about ten arrows in their quivers, the remaining ten clutching sharp stone spears; there were also nearly ninety goblin, timid but gripping sharpened wooden sticks, huddled behind the palisade and watching.
Compared to forty or so wolves, they weren't few in number, and with the palisade as a barrier, there was no need to panic at all.
"Listen up, all of you!" Kurzadh shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice overriding the wolves' low growls, "hobgoblins! Archers stand in front of the palisade! Aim carefully! Don't shoot wildly! Spearmen guard the palisade gaps! If a wolf dares to scratch, stab it! goblin! Go get firewood! Light torches! Scare these beasts away!"
"Waaagh!" The greenskins immediately responded.
The goblin squeaked and ran towards the bonfire, piling dry wood by the palisade; the hobgoblin archers hid behind the palisade posts, bows fully drawn, arrowheads aimed at the wild wolves outside; the Spearmen extended their stone spears through the palisade gaps, spear tips pointing at the wolves' eyes, all staring intently, just waiting for Kurzadh's command.
In a short while, the goblin piled firewood at the base of the palisade; Wreelx held a pine-resin-soaked wooden stick and poked it into the pile, and with a "whoosh," flames shot up, licking at the firewood and burning upwards with crackling sounds.
The greenskins quickly bound the burning firewood to long sticks, making torches and holding them up.
More than thirty torches swayed along the palisade, their red light illuminating the greenskins ' faces and casting long shadows of the wild wolves outside.
The wild wolves feared fire; illuminated by the torches, they retreated two steps, their low growls becoming fiercer, but they dared not lunge forward again.
A few bolder ones were shot at by hobgoblin archers with a "swish," the arrow grazing an ear, scaring them into a yelp and a scramble back, knocking over wolves behind them.
"Heh heh, cowards!" Wreelx laughed, holding up his torch, and deliberately extended it outside the palisade; the flame singed a wolf's tail, and the wolf yelped, jumped, and tucked its tail, hiding within the pack.
Kurzadh didn't laugh.
His eyes remained fixed on the black wolf on the mound.
The other wolves were all scurrying in fear of the torches, but it remained crouched there, its eyes fixed on the torches on the palisade, then glancing at the greenskins behind the palisade, as if pondering something.
"This beast isn't simple," Kurzadh muttered to himself.
An ordinary wolf would have run at the sight of fire, but this black wolf not only didn't run but kept watching them; it must be the pack leader, thinking about how to break through the palisade.
"Archers! Aim for that black wolf!" Kurzadh suddenly shouted, "Don't kill it! Shoot its front leg! Give it a lesson!"
"Got it!" Dragu raised his bow, squinting as he aimed at the black wolf's front leg, and released his finger—"Swish!" The arrow shaft flew with a whoosh, just grazing the black wolf's front leg, embedding itself in the dirt beside it, its fletching buzzing.
The black wolf suddenly stood up, its green eyes staring intently at Dragu, letting out a low "ao wu" growl, much fiercer than before.
It took two steps forward, and the wolf pack also moved closer, their eyes fixed on the palisade, as if ready to pounce at any moment.
"Come on! Beasts!" The greenskins shouted, holding their stone spears and torches, their voices making the palisade tremble.
Even though the goblin were scared, they also joined in the clamor, their small voices squeaking, adding to the excitement.
The black wolf stared at the palisade for a long time, then glanced at the torches and bows in the greenskins ' hands, suddenly retreated two steps, and let out an "ao wu" cry at the pack.
The wolf pack seemed to understand, also retreating, moving back twenty steps from the palisade, squatting on the ground and watching, no longer approaching.
"Why aren't they charging?" Wreelx scratched his head, "Are they scared?"
"It's thinking," Kurzadh said, frowning.
Looking at the black wolf crouching on the mound, he had a feeling this beast wasn't planning to leave.
There was no food in the forest, but the tribe had goats and chickens; this wolf definitely wouldn't want to leave, perhaps it intended to wait until dark to launch a surprise attack.
"Don't let your guard down!" Kurzadh turned and shouted, "Hold those torches higher! Archers, keep watching! If anyone dares to slack off, no smoked fish for them tonight!"
"Yes, Chief!" The greenskins immediately responded, raising their torch-holding hands higher, and the archers re-nocked their arrows, staring unblinkingly at the wolf pack outside.
The light of dusk slowly faded, the clouds on the horizon turning from yellow to red, finally pressing down in a heavy black.
The torches outside the palisade burned brightly, their red light casting distorted shadows of the wild wolves on the ground, looking like ghosts.
Kurzadh leaned against a fence post, clutching his stone spear, his eyes fixed on the black wolf on the mound.
He knew this wasn't over.
They definitely had to guard tonight; if these wolves broke in, the goats and chickens would surely be lost, and the greenskins might even get bitten.
"Damn it, it's a good chance to stretch my muscles," Kurzadh licked his lips, feeling a bit eager instead.
Doing push-ups every day was boring; if he could go out and fight these wolves, beating them until they cried for their mothers, that would be truly exhilarating.
He glanced at the greenskins beside him—the hobgoblins held their weapons, their eyes gleaming, clearly also wanting to fight; although the goblin's legs trembled with fear, they didn't run away, tightening their grip on their wooden sticks.
Good, these were his subordinates.
"If the wolves dare to charge later," Kurzadh said in a low voice, "the archers will shoot the alpha wolf first! The rest of you follow me out to beat them! Let them know that trying to steal greenskin property comes with a price!"
"Waagh! Beat the wolves! Eat wolf meat!" The greenskins immediately shouted, their voices fiercer than wolf howls.
Outside the palisade, the black wolf seemed to hear, and let out another "ao wu" cry, its green eyes glinting in the darkness, staring intently at Kurzadh.
A tough battle, it seemed, was unavoidable.
Kurzadh tightened his grip on the stone spear, feeling a sense of calm instead—if they had to fight, who was afraid of whom! He now had his body, his subordinates, and Gork and Mork 'watching over' him; surely he could handle a pack of starving wolves?