Thronebound Summoner

Fay stayed there for an hour or more before he heard something in the distance—the same roar he had heard earlier that day, the one that had caused the others in the group to leave.

He glanced toward the gates and saw the four guards begin to move. The heavy stone gate opened slowly.

Fay stayed alert, gripping his spear just in case, though the need for it didn't come.

No one else moved either. They only turned their heads toward the entrance, just as he had, and waited to see what would happen.

A few seconds passed. Then someone near the gate let out a loud call—but this time, it wasn't a warning. It sounded more like cheering.

Moments later, others joined in, their cries growing louder and more frantic.

Then Fay saw them.

The first guard returned holding the severed head of a creature—massive and lizard-like.

More followed, each dragging or carrying sections of its enormous body.

Its long neck stretched several meters, grey skin dull and textured like cracked stone.

It had clearly been cut into manageable pieces to ease transport.

Fay stared, wide-eyed, and whispered just one word:

"Dinosaur…?"

That was all he could think of. He had seen pictures of them in books—always majestic, terrifying, and powerful.

But never ridden. Never domesticated like horses.

He wondered why humans had never reached that point. Maybe they never had the chance.

For now, he kept his eyes on the beast and the ones who had brought it in.

There were more than thirty of them—maybe even forty.

Organized and coordinated, each one doing their part without hesitation.

Fay couldn't help but compare it to the shelters back on Earth, where only a few gave orders… and took the best for themselves.

Was this better? he wondered.

Then the fear crept back in.

Or were they waiting for this moment to eat us too?

He clenched his fists.

Damn it… Why didn't I try to leave before?

The ones entering now looked far stronger—muscular, confident, and armed. It was clear they were warriors.

And Fay wasn't sure if that made him feel safer… or in far more danger than before.

Soon, the last of them entered. This one had two large fangs—it was strange, almost unnatural with how the others looked.

By now, all those in the village who had cheered were doing their part to help carry the creature inside.

The only one who didn't join in was the human-faced girl, who rushed to hug the long-fanged man.

Fay watched the interaction and, for a moment, recalled how he used to greet his parents.

He sneered slightly, then forced himself to focus back on the group cutting the creature apart.

They had begun adding stored wood to the fires, roasting various pieces of the reptilian beast.

He noticed something else, too: everyone in the tribe worked.

Even those in ceremonial clothing helped—cutting, cooking, stoking the fire, or simply passing things along to keep the pace steady.

He glanced back at the girl and what was likely her father.

Even they were lending a hand.

Fay, unsure why, felt an urge to help—perhaps to shift their perception of him,

to seem less like prey.

He stood, grabbed some nearby firewood, and made his way toward the flames.

To his surprise, no one stopped him.

No one barked orders or shoved him aside like in the shelters back home.

He even tensed when one of the adults looked directly at him—

but the woman only pointed to one of the fires and gave him a nod of approval.

Fay rushed over, tossed the wood into the flames, and waited.

Still, no one said anything.

He turned back, picked up more firewood—he did this twelve more times before someone told him to stop.

It wasn't a scolding or anything harsh; one of the ladies—or at least a cat demi-human who appeared female—gently tapped his shoulder and gestured in a universal way for him to stop.

Fay gave a short nod, then walked back to where his sister was still sleeping.

He sat beside her quietly, unsure of what to expect but silently hoping he'd receive a piece of the meat they had all worked so hard to prepare.

His stomach growled again, loud enough to make him shift awkwardly, and he pulled his legs up against it, wrapping his arms around them to muffle the sound.

The exhaustion was setting in quickly.

He hadn't properly slept in two full days, and now his body was starting to shut down.

His eyes twitched, vision flickering between blurry and clear, and it took all his strength just to stay upright.

At some point, he must have drifted off, because the next thing he felt was someone gently shaking him.

"Feyfay, there is meat. We need to eat."

It was Mira's voice, quiet and close to his ear, and something about the way she said it gave him the push he needed to finally awaken.

Fay struggled to open his eyes; they felt swollen and sealed, like they'd been stitched shut.

But his stomach refused to let him fall back asleep, and after rubbing his face and blinking a few times, his vision finally adjusted.

In front of him were two makeshift trays crafted from large dried leaves, each curled up around its contents.

On them were pieces of roasted meat, still steaming slightly, their juices pooling into the natural grooves of the leaves.

He swallowed instinctively and turned to look at Mira, who was already eyeing what was clearly meant to be his share.

Beside her, her own leaf was empty, though it still glistened with leftover juices.

"Did you eat?" Fay asked, unsure if someone had shared with her.

"Yes. Good. Nice taste. Want more!" she replied with a little grin, licking the corners of her mouth with innocent satisfaction.

Fay glanced around the village and saw that dusk had fully settled in. If he had fallen asleep around midday, it had to be close to six in the evening now.

"How long did I sleep, Mira?" he asked, though he wasn't sure if she could answer precisely.

Around the fire, he could see members of the tribe gathered in small groups. Some were talking in that strange mixture of growls, hisses, and roars; others were drinking from odd, cup-shaped gourds or chewing on what looked like the remaining scraps of meat.

A few of them glanced in his direction, eyes briefly landing on his untouched food.

But none of them made a move toward it.

Fay lowered his gaze and, without thinking, reached out to grab a piece of the meat. He tore off a chunk and handed it to Mira, because no matter how hungry he was, he would never eat without giving her food first.

That was simply something he could never do.

He brought a piece to his mouth and bit down—and almost immediately, emotion hit him harder than hunger ever had.

The flavor was unlike anything he'd ever tasted: rich, warm, and savory in a way that was impossible to describe.

The texture, the smell, even the heat—it overwhelmed him.

He clenched his jaw tightly, trying to suppress the emotions rising in his chest, but it didn't help.

A tear slipped down his cheek before he even realized it, and though he tried to wipe it away quickly, another one followed.

Still, he kept eating.

Bite after bite.

He told himself to stay calm, to focus on the warmth in his stomach and the small comfort of Mira sitting beside him.

But the tears didn't stop.

All he could do now was keep eating, letting the food and the brief moment of peace push away the fear, the exhaustion, and the loneliness that had been building inside him since this strange journey outside the shelter began.

He did not care if they would be eaten tomorrow; he was just glad at this moment.