You were a hunter, looking for the group of deer that you tracked into unknown territory.

However, the territory wasn’t unknown.

It was under the jurisdiction of the Feather Clan, the only clan of barbarians who actually used their wings and smarts instead of gruesome and loud tactics.

That’s how he snuck up on you.

“State your purpose, Runt.” The golden-eyed man growls, glaring at you with his large expanded feather pointed at your throat.