There, Lukas saw larger herds of sheep and cattle.
He tried approaching them several tis.
The cows moved away, mooing softly, their large brown eyes fixed on him with suspicion. The sheep ran together as a group whenever he got too close, their hooves kicking up dust from the dry ground.
An older ram almost attacked him once.
The animal had thick, curved horns, yellow eyes, and white wool stained with dirt. When Lukas approached the flock, the ram lowered its head, horns pointed forward, and charged.
Lukas had to use a quick strand of web to protect himself. He fired a thread toward a nearby branch and pulled himself upward, out of the animal’s reach.
The ram passed beneath him, snorting, before returning to the flock.
"Sorry," Lukas said to the ram, even though he knew it couldn’t understand him.
"I didn’t an to scare you."
He climbed down from the branch and moved away.
Hills Village.
It was more isolated, surrounded by small elevations covered in grass and wildflowers.
The breeders of workhorses lived there. The horses were strong and muscular, with thick legs and short manes. Their coats ranged from light brown to nearly black.
Lukas observed the animals from a distance.
The horses were nervous around strangers. When he tried to approach, a foal, a young horse with a chestnut coat, raised its head, sniffed the air, and let out a loud neigh before retreating several steps.
"Easy," Lukas said, extending his hand.
"I’m not going to hurt you."
The foal neighed again and ran toward the center of the herd.
Lukas sighed.
"Why do they run away?"
Forest Village.
It was the farthest away, near the edge of the greater forest, the forest where Clavor said dangerous beasts dwelled.
It was the wildest of the five.
The houses were simpler, built with rough wooden walls and thatched roofs. The villagers wore dark, practical clothing and carried knives at their belts for protection, they said.
There, Lukas saw signs of beasts.
Large footprints in the mud, clawed paws wider than those of an ordinary wolf. Broken branches high in the trees, as if sothing massive had passed through. Claw marks carved into tree trunks, tearing away pieces of bark.
The villagers told stories.
Wolves that howled at night, drawing closer and closer to the houses. Boars with tusks as long as daggers, capable of tearing down fences. And on nights of the full moon, sothing larger, sothing darker, sothing they disliked describing.
Lukas listened attentively, morizing every detail.
"Have you ever seen the beasts?" he asked.
"I have," replied an elderly villager with a white beard and pale eyes.
"I saw a wolf with red eyes, the size of a small horse. It killed three of my sheep before it left."
"Why didn’t you call my father?"
"We did. The Baron ca, hunted the wolf, and took its hide back to the mansion. But he said he couldn’t stay here all the ti. That we needed to learn how to protect ourselves."
Lukas wrote it down in his notebook.
"Red-eyed wolf. Size: small horse. Danger: high. Behavior: attacks livestock."
...
In every village, the sa pattern repeated itself.
The small animals, insects, butterflies, and little rodents, were gentle with him.
Beetles climbed onto his hand whenever he offered it to them. Butterflies landed on his fingers, their colorful wings opening and closing slowly. Field mice didn’t flee when he approached; they rely lifted their heads, sniffed the air, and resud eating.
But the larger animals were afraid.
Cows moved away whenever he approached. Dogs barked, their fur standing on end while their paws scraped at the ground. Horses neighed nervously, retreating toward the center of the herd.
Lukas constantly wondered why.
"Why do the small ones obey while the big ones don’t?" he murmured to Tilbo and Prata while walking ho.
"Do I only have a good affinity with small animals? Is it only for insects?"
Tilbo, perched on his left shoulder, slowly moved her antennae.
Prata, on the right, remained still.
The thought bothered him.
He wanted all animals to trust him. Not just the easy ones to control, the small ones, the gentle ones, the ones that posed no danger. But also the large ones. The proud ones. The frightened ones.
"Why don’t they trust ? What am I doing wrong?"
"What can I do to change that?"
He had no answers. But he knew he would keep trying.
Tilbo and Prata had also changed greatly over those seven months.
Tilbo had grown to nearly thirty centiters in length, an impressive size for an ant. Her tallic body, sturdy legs, and mandibles were strong enough to crush thin wood.
Her carapace glead with more defined silver veins, forming patterns that resembled waves or flas. The veins weren’t random. Lukas had noticed they ford spirals, concentric circles, designs that seed almost symbolic.
Her personality had beco even more protective.
Tilbo never left Lukas’s left shoulder of her own accord. Whenever soone got too close, a new servant, a visitor, or even Clavor on more suspicious days, she would raise her front legs and emit a low tallic hiss, a clear warning.
"Tilbo," Lukas would say, touching her carapace.
"Calm down."
Tilbo would lower her legs. But her antennae remained pointed toward the perceived threat.
Prata had grown almost as much as Tilbo.
Her body now asured around twenty-five centiters in diater with her legs extended. She had molted two more tis, each molt leaving her carapace darker, shinier, and covered in denser silver hairs.
Her multiple eyes seed more expressive.
Not that Lukas could read emotions from eight black eyes. But there was sothing there, an intensity, an understanding, that hadn’t existed before. She seed to understand what he said.
"Prata, co up," he would say, extending his hand.
And Prata would climb onto it.
"Prata, stay," he would say, pointing at the table.
And Prata would remain there.
Her personality was more independent and hunter-like.
She spent hours weaving complex webs in the corner of Lukas’s room, capturing insects on her own. The webs were perfect, concentric circles with evenly spaced threads, their geotry flawless. Lukas would sotis simply watch, fascinated.
But with Lukas, she remained incredibly gentle.
She climbed into his hand without hesitation. She stayed still while he observed her. She accepted insects from his hand with delicate movents.
"You’re strange," Lukas said once with a laugh.
"Aggressive toward everyone except ."
Prata slowly moved one of her legs.
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