“We drew the attention of the savages”. Carl said. He and Zax left the grove no more than five minutes ago and the savages that roamed the area of the second half of the first Savage Cave, picked up on their scent with no delay.
“Should we fight?” Zax asked indifferently.
In the past month Carl gave Zax a short time to think about the weight of death. In the Savage Cave even the most delicate of beings, whether human or beasts, will sharpen its claws or fangs or talons, and regardless of how much one will preserve, eventually blood will smear the hands, paws, wings and first life will be taken.
Zax was a mere youth in his fourteenth year of life and already killed, sometimes against his will, sometime without even considering it. His conception was to “Kill for survival” and it still wa
