Creating Civilization In My Private Island

The village chief's dwelling is at the center of the village—a large, well-constructed home that also serves as a meeting place for important discussions. Rylis leads the group inside, where Chief Amara, a tall, battle-hardened woman with silver streaks in her fur, is already waiting. Her sharp eyes narrow as they approach.

"What happened?" Chief Amara asks, rising to her feet. Her voice is calm, but there's an undercurrent of tension. She knows something is wrong.

Rylis steps forward, his expression grim. "We encountered something... something we've never seen before. Deya didn't make it."

There's a brief pause as the weight of those words settles in the room. Amara's jaw tightens, but she doesn't interrupt.

"It wasn't like any predator we've faced," Rylis continues. "It moved faster than us—stronger, too. A giant ant-like creature. It took Deya before we could even react. We need to warn the other village and prepare."

Chief Amara exhales sharply, her eyes narrowing as she processes the information. After a moment of silence, she nods, her decision made. "We can't handle this alone," she says, her voice firm. "I'll send word to the other two villages immediately."

She moves swiftly to a small table where a pair of messenger birds, sleek and trained, sit in a wooden cage. With practiced hands, Amara scribbles a brief message onto a small scroll, rolls it tightly, and ties it to the bird's leg. In seconds, the bird is in the air, wings flapping toward the neighboring villages.

The remaining hunters stand in silence, the tension thick in the room. Rylis feels the weight of Deya's loss pressing down on him, but he pushes it aside for now. They need to focus on what comes next.

After what feels like an eternity, Amara's bird returns, carrying messages from the other village chiefs. She reads the replies quickly, her expression unreadable, before turning to Rylis.

"The other chiefs agree to meet," she says, her voice steady. "But they're not taking this lightly. They want to meet in person at the central meeting house—an urgent council. And they're asking for the strongest hunters from each village to attend."

Rylis nods, though a pang of disappointment flickers through him. He knows he's not the strongest hunter in his village, even if he's one of the most skilled. "Who will we send?" he asks, his tone carefully neutral.

Amara's eyes flick to him, then to the others, before she speaks. "We'll send Farin," she says firmly. "He's our strongest and most experienced."

Rylis hides his reaction, though he had expected as much. Farin is a seasoned warrior, a powerful hunter known for his unmatched strength. If anyone could face this new threat, it would be him. Still, Rylis feels a twinge of something—perhaps frustration or even a bit of envy—but he pushes it down. This isn't about pride; it's about survival.

"But you'll come too," Amara adds, surprising him. "You've seen the creature up close. You know how it moves. The council will need your account of what happened."

Rylis straightens, nodding. "Of course."

"We leave at first light," Amara continues, her voice carrying the authority of a leader. "Prepare yourselves. This meeting could decide the future of all three villages."

The journey to the central meeting house is tense, filled with the silent determination of those who know they are walking toward a threat unlike any they've faced. Rylis walks behind Chief Amara and Farin, the strongest warrior in their village, as they make their way through the dense forest. The trees loom overhead, casting shadows that dance in the early morning light. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and the ever-present tension of the unknown.

When they reach the meeting house, two other chiefs are already waiting, flanked by their best hunters. Each one stands tall, their strength evident in the way they carry themselves.

Chief Tygari, a massive Vorran with a deep scar running across his muzzle, steps forward. "Amara," he greets, his voice a low rumble. "I heard the news. This creature... it has to be dealt with immediately. I won't allow something to challenge the Vorran in our own territory."

Amara nods, her expression unreadable but her eyes fierce. "Agreed. This creature isn't just dangerous—it's smart."

Chief Lorka, a shorter but powerfully built Vorran with dark fur, crosses his arms, his eyes flicking to Rylis and then to the other hunters. "We've faced many threats before. Hounds, serpents... but this is different. It moves faster, fights harder. I trust we've all brought our best?"

Amara nods. "I brought Farin," she gestures to the warrior beside her, his muscles tense under his fur. "And Rylis—he's the one who saw the creature up close."

Chief Tygari grunts in approval, eyeing Farin with respect. "Good. We'll need your strength, Farin. As for you," he says, looking at Rylis, "your experience will be useful, but stay out of the way when the real fighting begins."

Rylis clenches his jaw but says nothing. He knows his place in this group, but that doesn't make the sting of being overlooked any less.

Amara speaks up, her voice commanding attention. "We're not taking any unnecessary risks. This creature's fast, but if we can corner it, we might have a chance. We'll rely on speed and strength, not numbers. We've seen what happens when too many get involved—it ends in casualties."

The chiefs nod in agreement, their expressions grim. It's a rare sight to see all three village leaders united in action, but the threat of the unknown enemy has brought them together.

Each chief was chosen for their strength, and it shows in the way they carry themselves. Tygari is a brute force, Lorka is agile and calculated, and Amara, the first woman to ever become chief, commands respect through both her intellect and the sheer power she displayed to earn her position.

"We will hunt it tonight," Tygari declares. "I'm not letting that thing have another night to hunt."