Trouble has come

"We all know you're scared. Hell, I'm scared too! But hiding in our huts, hoping this mess blows over like a bad hangover? That ain't the plan! If we don't fix this, it won't be the Dog Tribe running us outta town—oh no, it'll be that cocky human! And when that happens, we'll all be licking his boots, serving as his personal footstools!"

Lenon slammed his fist against the table so hard the poor thing nearly split in half. His wild eyes darted around the room, hoping someone would back him up, but all he got were blank stares.

Elder Nora, lounging back in her chair like she was at a spa, raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, let's say we somehow pull off a miracle and take him down. Then what, genius?"

Lenon, puffing up his chest like he'd just been crowned king of common sense, scoffed.

"What do you mean, 'then what'? We beat him, toss his ass out, and go back to pretending nothing happened. Simple. We just keep watching over the village like we always do."