Carrying Marcella gently in his arms, Draven made his way back to the tribe. The eyes of the gathered tribe members followed them, curiosity and uncertainty evident in their expressions. They had witnessed his ferocity in battle, his body drenched in blood, a sight that carried the scent of death.
Parting the crowd, they entered a tent where a group of tribe members had gathered. Marcella's pained cry reverberated through the air as she pleaded for the chief's life. Their gazes fell upon Karlan, lying shivering on the bed, his eyes flickering with a fading strength, as if he sought to convey something to Draven.
"Chief!" Marcella's voice was laden with pain and desperation as she rushed to Karlan's side, her tears flowing freely.
Amidst the somber atmosphere, Sarah rose from Karlan's bedside, approaching Draven. The weight of the situation was etched on her face.
