The main fire had burned low. Only the deep red coals glowed in the center of the den, pulsing faintly against the rough stone walls. The rest of the tribe had dispersed, leaving Grub, Dravak and the lieutenants alone in the middle of the cavern. Outside, the wind whispered through the cliffs.

  Dravak sat cross-legged on his stone seat near the coals, arms folded across his chest. Rika stood nearby, watching in silence. Kesh had her slate balanced on one knee but wasn’t writing. Hask crouched near the edge of the firelight, while Throk stood farther back, his hand resting on the haft of his spear. They were all regarding Grub.

  Sable lay at Grub’s side, head on her paws, eyes shimmering faintly in the firelight.

  Dravak’s gaze didn’t waver. “You said you would tell us the truth.”

  Grub nodded slowly. “I will.”

  He sat with his hands clasped, thumbs tracing the faint scars still circling his wrists. “I was not born here. Not in this world.”

  The others said nothing. Even the fire seemed to hush.

  “I was a human once,” he continued. “In another place. A world with no magic, no goblins, no wolves that size. We built our cities from stone and steel, covered the land with roads and light. I had a name there. Gideon.”

  Rika’s brow creased slightly. “You were… human?” Grub nodded. “Yes. And I died as one.”

  That pulled their full attention.

  “There was an explosion,” he said, his voice steady but distant. “It happened at the place where I worked. Something struck a large tank that held..." He trailed off as he thought of how to explain gasoline to them. "Liquid that could catch fire. The impact started a fire. The liquid is fuel for fire, and there was a lot of it. The fire was spreading fast. There were children nearby, trapped by the flames, so I just acted. I ran in to get them out of harms way. My friend Max was with me. We got three of them free. Then we went back for the last one.”

  His eyes reflected the firelight, but his focus was somewhere far beyond it. “The fire reached the fuel. It went off like thunder. There wasn’t time to think. Max and I both threw ourselves over the last child, tried to shield her from the blast. Everything went black.”

  He paused, staring at the embers. “When I woke up… there was something else. A presence. Not a person, not really. A voice. It called itself a System Adjudicator. It told me the System in this world had noticed my actions, and it decided to offer me a chance to live again in another world.”

  Kesh tilted her head. “The System gave you this life?” “In a way,” Grub said. “It offered me a few choices. I could come back as a human again, or take the chance to start over as something else. Another race. There was an offer to allow the System to assign me a race at random. The offer said I’d get a few extra stat points at level one and a unique perk in return for choosing that option.”

  Rika’s mouth tightened. “And the System turned you into a goblin.” Grub nodded. “That’s the result of my choice. I thought it might give me something interesting. Different. Maybe powerful.”

  Throk grunted from the shadows. “Was it?” Grub gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Not exactly.”

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  He looked up, meeting their eyes one by one. “My unique perk is called Miscast. It makes every spell I use cost thirty percent more mana than it should. And sometimes it adds random, harmless effects on top of my spells. A spark of light, a puff of wind, an ember flaring for half a second. Nothing that helps me fight, nothing that makes me stronger. Just… noise.”

  Kesh frowned. “That is the perk you got for dying and coming here?” “Yes.” Grub leaned back slightly, expression calm but tired. “It seemed useless. Still does. But the rest of what I have, the memories of my previous life, the ideas I had read about and researched, that all remained. It's what has helped me come up with all of my so-called strange ideas. They aren't strange to me, from a human perspective. For me, the only thing that's strange is that you all think my ideas to be strange.” He chuckled at that.

  He paused again, his voice lower. “As for Max… I don’t know what happened to him. Whether he lived, whether he was brought here too. I haven’t seen any sign of him since I woke up in this body. Not that I've seen anything besides the forest so far.”

  Dravak’s eyes narrowed, thoughtful rather than suspicious. The firelight caught the edge of his tusks as he spoke. “And you have used your knowledge from this other world and made a difference in our tribe.”

  Grub nodded once. “I did not mean to lie when I came to you, Chief. I didn’t know how to explain any of this. Who would believe it?” Rika exhaled softly. “No one. It sounds crazy. I don't think you have any reason to lie to us about this, but even now, a small part of me thinks maybe you’ve just gone insane or you're trying to fool us.”

  Dravak finally moved, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Now I understand why your ideas are strange. Why you speak like someone who has experience with things he shouldn't.”

  Grub met his gaze. “You believe me?”

  “I do,” Dravak said simply. “You have never lied to me about what matters. Your ideas have helped the Ironfang grow stronger than they have ever been. Your explanation is as good as any I came up with on my own.”

  Grub hesitated, then asked quietly, “Do you want me to leave the tribe?”

  Dravak’s brow furrowed, as if the question itself was foolish. “Leave? You built most of what we are. The Ironfang are stronger because of your thinking, your patience, your plans. Under other circumstances I might send away something I do not understand, but you have proved time and time again where your loyalty lies. Everything you have done was to improve the Ironfangs lives and chances of survival. You have bled for us.” He reached out and gripped Grub’s shoulder. “You are Ironfang, Gideon. Through and through.”

  The fire popped, sending a small spray of sparks upward. Grub looked around at them and nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. "Gideon died in that other world. I am Grub now. I am Ironfang."

  Dravak stood, glancing at the others. “Get some rest, everyone. We leave at first light.”

  As the others began to rise, Grub stayed seated, staring into the coals until the last ember winked out. Sable shifted beside him, pressing her head against his arm.

  “I told them,” he whispered. The wolf’s tail thumped once against the stone, as if in approval. Outside, the wind moved through the pine cliffs, howling softly. The wall at the cave mouth kept it from coming in and biting with its chill. Morning would come soon. And with it, the next test of what kind of tribe the Ironfang would become.

  Dawn seeped into the trees in thin silvery bands of light. The den stirred early. Straps were tightened, bundles shouldered, blades checked. Wolves paced among the goblins, breath pluming in the chill, ears turning to every small sound.

  Grub woke with the others, Sable’s warmth still in his hands from where she had slept against him. Last night’s confession sat quiet in his chest now. The tribe had not turned away from him. That was enough.

  Dravak stood near the entrance, wrapped in layered cloth, hide, and fur, axe resting easy across his back. He spoke in low, clipped orders while Kesh made her final counts. When the sun cleared the ridge, the Ironfang moved.

  Eighty-one set all together: Dravak with his two hobgoblin guards, followed by seventy-eight more goblins, and the eleven wolves. The Fangs of Winter rode mounted and unencumbered; no sleds this time. The wolves ranged ahead and along the flanks while the goblins carried the loads of food, cord, spare points, and a few wrapped bundles of cloth.

  Grub walked beside Sable at first, palm on her neck. She moved easy and quiet, head level, every sense awake but calm. By the early afternoon, he was riding upon her back, his legs still not fully under him yet following his captivity.

  The Ironfang column stretched long through the trees, steady and silent. Throk led the vanguard, while Rika and the Fangs ghosted wide arcs through the underbrush, scouting and keeping any opportunistic forest predators at bay. Kesh drifted up and down the line noting landmarks. Dravak walked in the center of the line like a weight, setting a steady pace that never slipped to a wander or a run. They moved quickly through the forest, breathing in the fresh early-spring air.

  The first day of marching passed without incident. They camped by a shallow stream and ate cold, kept fires banked to coals. Wolves curled tight around sleeping goblins and were given meat and rough praise for their work.

  Frost clung to moss the next morning. They rose without complaint and fell back into their rhythm. Even the newest Ironfangs, the former Red Tusk, held their shields and spacing now without needing to be told. They had acclimated to their new tribe quickly, the motivation to prove themselves worthy of the opportunity they'd been given showing fast results.

  By midday of the second day, pale stone pushed through the trees. They had made very good time in reaching The Jaw.