Chapter 4
The group questioned why such a feeble individual should have exclusive access to a rare and precious woman like Amelia. They understood the priest's authority, but the werewolf's claim seemed unjustified to them.
Amelia, however, appeared unaware of the peril she was in. She basked in the attention, a pleased grin spreading across her face as the men bickered and scowled at one another. In her mind, this was the natural order of things—men competing for her affection, treating her as a coveted prize.
What she failed to grasp was that once she entered the werewolf's lair, escaping would prove challenging.
I gave her a nonchalant, disinterested look before addressing the white tiger priest. "I'm exhausted," I said quietly. "I'd like to rest."
His golden eyes softened with worry, and in a moment, his enormous arms—each wider than my legs—lifted me up effortlessly.
"I'll take you to rest right away," he stated firmly.
Without another word, he carried me away from the gathering, holding me close to his chest as he dashed toward his stone dwelling.
In the White Tiger Tribe, the priest's position outranked even the chieftain's. The priest wasn't just responsible for ceremonies and prophecies or safeguarding the tribe's ancient wisdom; he was also their sole healer. In a primitive society with virtually no medical resources, an injured beastman's survival often hinged entirely on the priest's medical expertise.
When the white tiger priest brought me back to his stone house, he gently placed me on a stone bed covered with animal skins.
His intense golden eyes focused on me as he spoke softly, "Rest here for a bit. I'll fetch you another blanket."
I nodded, observing as he searched through a wooden trunk and retrieved a large, thick pelt.
But instead of draping it over me, he spread the blanket on the bed, layering it atop the existing furs.
After smoothing it out, he turned back to me, his gaze lingering on my exposed skin. "Your skin seems delicate. This extra padding will prevent you from feeling the hardness of the stone bed."
I couldn't help but be impressed. For someone as powerful and imposing as the white tiger priest, his thoughtfulness was unexpected.
"Thank you," I said. "By the way, what's your name? I'm Aria."
"My name is Ezra," he replied. "If you need anything, just ask."
I nodded again. "Understood. Thanks, Ezra. I think I'll get some sleep now."
Amelia and I had stumbled upon this undocumented, primitive tribe during a mountain hiking expedition. By the time the beastmen from the White Tiger Tribe discovered us and brought us to their village, we had already been trekking for nearly two hours.
I was completely drained.
Ezra seemed to notice my fatigue. As I lay down, his deep voice softened. "I won't disturb you. I'll go find you something to eat. What would you like for dinner?"
The thought of food in a primitive tribe made me uneasy. Quickly, I said, "Some berries, please. And maybe some meat soup, but make sure the meat is cut into small pieces. I can't manage large chunks."
Beastmen could shift between their animal and human forms, and when in their beast forms, consuming raw meat was perfectly normal for them.
In their human forms, however, they typically cooked their food—boiling it into soups or roasting it over a fire.
The problem was that their sheer size led them to cook everything in enormous portions. The meat chunks were as big as my arm, and their bones were even longer than my forearm. For them, gnawing on these was easy. For me? It was like trying to chew through rubber.
In my previous life, I couldn't adapt to their food and had to survive on berries alone. This resulted in severe malnutrition, and during a summer rainstorm, I fell ill and nearly perished.
It was Ezra's medical skills that saved me. He brewed a foul-smelling herbal mixture that tasted terrible but reduced my fever within hours.
Ezra stared at me for a moment, then nodded seriously. "Understood. Rest now."
"Okay," I murmured, closing my eyes.
Exhausted from the day's events, I quickly fell into a deep slumber.