Around late evening, roughly half an hour before the sun finally disappeared beneath the distant treeline, the atmosphere within Ashfang Village seemed to be reaching its celebratory peak, as the rhythmic beating of festival drums echoed throughout the settlement while laughter, music, and cheerful conversation flowed freely through the streets, creating a sense of excitement that seemed to infect almost everyone present.
From the central bonfire grounds to the outermost huts near the village perimeter, people moved about with smiles on their faces while carrying food, drink, decorations, and ceremonial offerings, as after weeks of anticipation, the Moon Goddess Festival had finally arrived and the entire settlement appeared eager to embrace it.
Even the sentries stationed along the outskirts found themselves affected by the atmosphere.
As although their responsibility was to watch the wilderness beyond Ashfang and provide warning should any danger approach the village, their attention repeatedly drifted toward the festivities taking place behind them, as every burst of laughter, every drumbeat, and every distant cheer served as a constant reminder that while everyone else prepared to celebrate, they remained stuck performing guard duty.
Of course, none of them completely abandoned their responsibilities.
They still patrolled their assigned routes, still glanced toward the treeline, and they still kept their weapons close at hand.
However, their vigilance lacked the sharpness it normally possessed, as their eyes lingered upon the village for slightly longer than they usually would, while their minds seemed occupied more by thoughts of the coming celebration than by the possibility of danger lurking beyond the forest, as unfortunately for them, danger was already there.
"The patrol guards are distracted. If you give the order, we can take them out right now, Chief."
Gema, the lead archer of the Yellowtail Tribe, muttered in a low voice, as concealed behind a thick pine tree several hundred meters away from Ashfang’s outer perimeter, the Yellowtail hunters remained completely still while observing the sentries through gaps in the forest.
From their position, the weakness in Ashfang’s defenses seemed painfully obvious, as several of the guards had allowed their attention to drift toward the village behind them, while others appeared more interested in the sounds of celebration echoing through the evening air than in the wilderness they were supposed to be watching.
Their backs were exposed.
Their vigilance was slipping.
And to a group of seasoned hunters accustomed to bringing down prey from even greater distances, they looked less like sentries and more like targets.
However, despite the confidence of his archers, none of them released their arrows, because the decision of when to strike did not belong to them.
Whether they killed the guards now or continued creeping closer beneath the cover of the forest depended entirely upon Chief Sorak and whether he believed this was the ideal distance to begin the attack.
"Take the shot."
Sorak growled, as he clenched his fingers into a tight fist and grinded his teeth together to show his aggression.
"And don’t you dare fuck it up."
He warned as a cruel grin slowly spread across his face.
"We’ve marched all day for this moment and those idiots are standing there with their backs turned like pigs waiting for slaughter."
He muttered, as several nearby warriors chuckled darkly.
"I want every one of them dead before they even realize we’re here."
Sorak continued, as he spat into the snow.
"Seven arrows. Seven corpses. If even one of those bastards gets a scream out, I’ll personally kick your arses all the way back to Yellowtail."
He said, as the hunters merely grinned.
They weren’t offended.
If anything, they looked eager.
"Now go earn your keep."
Sorak finished, as Gema immediately turned toward her hunters.
Without speaking a word, she began issuing a series of sharp hand signals that caused the archers to spread throughout the surrounding treeline, as each hunter quietly settled into position and selected a target of their own.
Soon, seven bows had been raised.
Seven arrows had been drawn.
And seven Ashfang sentries unknowingly found themselves staring toward the final moments of their lives.
The Yellowtail hunters waited patiently.
Nobody rushed.
Nobody released early.
Because no matter how distracted the guards appeared, missing a shot now could ruin everything.
Eventually, the wind settled.
The branches overhead stopped swaying.
And once Gema became satisfied with the conditions, she slowly lowered two fingers, which was the signal to shoot, as seven bowstrings snapped forward simultaneously.
*TWANG*
*SWOOSH*
The arrows tore through the evening air.
One sentry had just turned toward the village after hearing another burst of laughter when an arrow punched through the back of his neck and burst from the front of his throat in a spray of blood, as his eyes widened in confusion before his body collapsed heavily into the snow.
A second never even saw it coming.
The shaft entered beneath the base of his skull and drove straight through his brain, killing him so instantly that his knees buckled before his spear even slipped from his fingers.
Several meters away, another guard instinctively reached for his throat after an arrow tore through it, as hot blood immediately flooded between his fingers while a wet choking sound escaped his mouth before he pitched forward face-first into the ground.
As across the perimeter, similar scenes unfolded one after another.
Bodies dropped.
Blood stained the snow.
Weapons slipped from lifeless hands.
And before a single warning could be raised, all seven sentries already lay dead.
"Good fucking job!"
Sorak muttered, as he seemed eager to charge, however, did not, as despite watching all enemies drop dead, he still waited for Gema to give the last signal.
"Clear."
Gema said eventually, as after scanning for additional sentries, or accidental mishaps, she confirmed that it was safe for the Yellowtail warriors to charge.
"Perfect."
Sorak replied, as he drew his axe from his back, and turned towards the rest of his men.
"Let’s go gut these Ashfang fuckers."
He growled, as hundreds of Yellowtail warriors immediately surged forward through the trees, rapidly closing the distance separating them from the village while the sounds of celebration continued echoing through the evening air.
Ahead of them, the celebratory drums still played, while the Ashfang villagers still laughed, completely unaware that a calamity was about to descend upon them.