Borzoi stuttered. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as if the words refused to come out properly. His body, which had already knelt before Clay, stiffened for a moment, and even his breathing became uneven.
Clay frowned slightly.
"What is it?"
His tone was not loud, but it carried impatience. The kind that made people feel like they were wasting something precious just by hesitating.
Borzoi lowered his head further.
"Young Warchief… I… there is something you must know."
Clay crossed his arms.
"Then say it."
Borzoi swallowed.
Then he began.
"At first, when we were sent here, this land was… normal."
His voice steadied as he spoke, but the content of his words carried a growing heaviness.
"The beasts were strong, yes, but they were not uncontrollable. They fought each other, they hunted, they lived according to their instincts. There was balance. There was order."
He paused briefly.
"But we changed that."
Clay's eyes narrowed slightly.
