After rushing to return home, Malcolm immediately called out to his wife, Sofia.
"Thereās no time to explain!" Malcolm said in a serious tone. "Take the horse and our son. Leave the camp as fast as you can! Head to Elarin Lake and wait for me there!"
Seeing his expression, Malcolmās wife knew that something must have gone wrong. Without asking any questions, she picked up their two-year-old son before heading to the door.
Meanwhile, Malcolm headed straight to the pantry and stored all the meat jerky he could find in a bag made of animal skin.
He also refilled all of the waterskins that they would be bringing along for their journey.
Time was not on his side, so he didnāt bother packing any clothes. Instead, he simply shoved all the bronze and silver coins he could find in his bag before heading outside of the house.
By the time he got out, his wife was already riding a horse, their son seated in front of her.
Malcolm wanted to ask why they hadnāt left, but the reason was glaringly obvious.
Both of them looked a bit shaken while looking at the raptor, whose jaws were still stained with blood.
The Raptor was kind enough not to block the path. In fact, it was even smiling at them, but that only terrified Sofia, her son, and their horse!
"It wonāt hurt you." Malcolm assured his wife. "Remember, letās meet at the lake. Iāll act as bait, so head there straight without stopping!"
Sofia nodded before urging their horse to run past the raptor, which only shook its head helplessly.
"Letās go," Malcolm said as he mounted his raptor.
He then took the path that led to the plaza of their town. Once he got there, he began to shout with all his might, catching the attention of everyone in the streets.
"We lost the war!" Malcolm shouted. "Our chieftain is dead! The other warriors who came with us have also perished! Soon, the Darkmane Tribe will devour what is left of our tribe! To those who want to escape, now is your only time to go!"
The news of their defeat was just spreading across town, so not everyone had heard of it. But his declaration had now been heard by many people, whose faces had turned pale after learning the truth.
He wanted to cause a commotion to buy his wife some time to escape. As long as everyoneās focus was on him, they would not have time for anyone else.
Malcolm saw familiar faces in the plaza, including some of the warriors who had returned with him.
"I will go to Grimjaw Mountain and join the Aslan Tribe!" Malcolm declared. "And if any of you believe that this place no longer has a future, then I will see you there!"
He could have just left on his own. But after seeing his comrades, he decided to tell them where he planned to go. That way, they would know that they would not be going there alone!
Some of the warriors looked at him calmly, while others looked conflicted. After all, they were the survivors of that brutal yet one-sided massacre.
"What are you doing?!" One of the chieftainās servants shouted as he finally arrived at the plaza, pointing at Malcolm. "He is a traitor! He killed Lord Harold!"
The Raptor looked at the servant in disbelief. It even pointed its claws to its face, as if telling him that it was the one that killed Harold.
Malcolm was innocent!
But no one cared! The moment they heard that the veteran warrior had killed their Young Lord, all of them began to look at him with hostility.
"Kill him!"
"Catch him!"
"Traitor!"
Seeing that, Malcolm knew his time was up. Without another word, he urged his mount to run toward the eastern exit of the town, taking a different path from the one his wife had taken.
Soon, news of Malcolmās betrayal and departure spread, reaching the ears of the other warriors.
Since he had declared where he was going, it prompted several others to follow his example. They may have been part of the Bloodtusk Tribe, but their circumstances were different.
Just like Malcolm, they also hated Varus. They also thought that it was unreasonable to bully a smaller and weaker tribe than them. But after their defeat, it made them realize something.
Even though they were the aggressors, even though they were the ones in the wrong, the Chieftain of the Aslan Tribe, Leone, had allowed their fallen brethren to be buried with honor and dignity.
This action had touched their hearts, and it made them think that the Aslan Tribe was lucky to have a chieftain like him.
Soon, more of the survivors and their families started to make preparations to leave the city as well.
The news of the Bloodtusk Tribeās defeat started to spread throughout the camp like wildfire, causing panic and anxiety.
Haroldās death had also reached everyoneās ears, while Malcolmās infamy had reached another level. But truth be told, Malcolm no longer gave a damn.
Besides, he wasnāt the one who killed Harold!
After making sure he had no pursuers, Malcolm finally arrived at the lake half an hour later.
His wife was already there, looking at him with worry.
"We need to go," Malcolm said. "Iāll tell you everything on the way to Grimjaw Mountain."
Sofia nodded before following behind her husband who took the lead.
Three hours later, they took a break. It was then that he told her everything.
Sofia wasnāt born in the Bloodtusk Tribe, so she wasnāt loyal to them. She actually came from the Stormhorn Tribe.
Malcolm met her during one of his hunting trips, and they became good friends. A few years later, they fell in love with each other and finally got married.
"Can we take a detour to the Stormhorn Tribe first?" Sofia asked. "I want to tell my parents where Iām going."
"Okay." Malcolm nodded. "The Stormhorn Tribe is along the way, so there wonāt be any problems. However, letās avoid the Ashclaw Tribeās territory. Iām afraid they are about to get raided by the middle-ranked tribes."
Sofiaās expression hardened after hearing her husbandās words. Since she understood that time was of the essence, they only took a short rest before continuing their journey once again.
Two days later...
"Where is everyone?" Sofia muttered after arriving at the camp that was devoid of people.
Malcolm scanned the surroundings, not finding a single soul around them. The camp didnāt look like it was in disarray, but there were telltale signs that people had left in a hurry.
Sofia urged her horse to head to her parentsā home to see if they were still in the camp. But just as she expected, they were nowhere to be seen.
"Where did they go?" Sofia asked. "Has our tribe been raided by the middle-ranked tribes already?!"
"I donāt think so," Malcolm replied. "If someone raided this place, at least half of the houses would have been burned. Yet they are still standing. For now, letās follow these tracks. It might lead us somewhere."
Sofia nodded anxiously as they followed the tracks that had been left behind by over a hundred wagons.
She desperately hoped that nothing bad happened to her parents as they made their journey to the east.
Deep inside, Malcolm believed that Brann had foreseen what was about to happen next.
The veteran warrior couldnāt help but admire the Chieftain of the Stormhorn Tribe for his foresight, especially during these troubled times.
While Malcolm and his wife resumed their journey, the Ashclaw Tribeās camp was currently up in flames.
The Ironhide Tribe had raided the Ashclaw Tribe, forcefully subjugating their people and recruiting them to their tribe.
One of the reasons why they burned their homes was to make them understand that they no longer had a place to return to.
Since the Ironhide Tribe had attacked the Ashclaw Tribe, the Grimfang Tribe decided to target the Stormhorn Tribe.
However, when they arrived, the Stormhorn Tribe was already gone.
Their forces were actually pursuing the fleeing tribe, who were all heading to Grimjaw Mountain.
However, since Brann and his people had a two-day lead ahead, they had a significant headstart against their pursuers.
Of course, whether they would arrive at Grimjaw Mountain or whether their pursuers would catch up to them first still hung in the air.
The Borderlands had now entered a chaotic era.
The strong had always preyed against the weak. But back then, there were still rules that held them in place.
But now, those rules have been broken.
It was now every tribe for themselves. The only way for the weak ones to survive was to form alliances with the strong, even if they had to pay a steep price for it.