The Ugly Duckling Of The Tiger Tribe-Chapter 294: The reconstruction site

The sun was high and scorching, washing the valley in a gold so bright it made my eyes water. After the suffocating, ash-filled darkness of my dream, the warmth felt like a physical rescue.

I walked slightly ahead of the guys, the empty basket swinging at my side. I looked back at them—Noah with Phina using his ears as steering handles, Damar with a smugly content Lyra lying in his hooked arm, and Fenric with Raiden.

They looked less like the kind of warriors I had seen the previous night, and more like a very over-qualified daycare center.

"So," I said, skipping a step to turn and face them while walking backward. "Royal inspection. Am I supposed to look stern and disapproving, or do I just nod and look pretty while you do all the talking?"

"You couldn’t look ’just’ pretty if you tried, Little Tiger," Noah teased, though his eyes darted to the perimeter of the path. Even in a joke, he was scanning the treeline. "The people here... they’ve heard the stories. They don’t want a statue. They want to see the female who turned the tide."

Hm, I’m sure I can work with that.

There wasn’t much to look at in the Kingdom, to be honest. Yes, they have an improved lifestyle and I can proudly say that cause I see water tanks made out of polished clay.

And then there was a well as well.

The civilization here was no joke. They even had stores and a market for the proper distribution of goods. Just as they did in the Mouseling Tribe, where they traded goods for goods, it was the same here as well.

Though, I guess they did have currency. Shelel currencies. The shinier the shell, the more expensive it was regarded.

It was the shells that the ferryman had asked for as a toll fee.

And aside from that, they also have functional chairs, though not very structured.

Seeing all of this, I have to admit that it was indeed ’civilized’.

But they left a bad impression on me when I arrived and found a war regarding enslaving their fellow beastmen. Hmph.

We rounded the bend that led toward the eastern slopes, and the reconstruction site came into view. It was a hive of activity.

Wolve beastmen were hauling timber, their powerful frames making short work of the heavy logs, while the sheep—now mostly dressed in sturdy woven tunics—were expertly thumping the earth to create solid foundations.

They have feet, not hooves, and yet they make such great use of those feet.

"Ms. Arinya!" a voice called out.

I saw Robin waving from a half-finished structure. He looked much better than he did this morning, his pink skin shielded from the sun by a wide-brimmed hat made of reeds.

I waved back at him.

"The Land-Mother!" another sheep cried out, and I flinched. Can they quit it with the name?

It was Jael who started calling me ’land mother’ but it seems every sheep wants to refer to me as that too.

Suddenly, the rhythmic thumping of the construction slowed as heads turned in our direction.

"Land mother,"

"It’s the land mother."

Gosh, they don’t have to be so loud about it. I suddenly feel like a celebrity.

I felt that blush creeping up my neck again.

"I really need to get them to stop with that name," I muttered to Damar, who just smirked.

"Just accept it, Ari. You are their heart-fire," he whispered. So, even Damar knows words like that.

"Well, I guess I can’t be prickly when they don’t have bad intentions," I said, flipping my hair back.

As we walked through the bustling site, I kept my eyes focused on the surroundings. I was looking for more than just progress; I was looking for the ’loose strings.’

I noticed a group of female wolves gathered near a well. They weren’t helping with the wood or the thatch. They were just huddled together, their eyes tracking our group with a cold, sharp intensity that felt like a draft of winter air.

In the center of them was, you know it, Talia. She had changed her clothes—now wearing a fine, deep-red pelt—but her expression was the same. She whispered something to the female beside her, and a ripple of quiet, nasty laughter broke out.

My grip tightened on the basket handle. There it is. A few members of the ’Committee’.

"Noah," I said, my voice low and steady. "Don’t look now, but your fan club is at the well. And I don’t think they’re here to offer us water."

Noah’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look over, but I saw his grip on Phina’s little legs soften protectively. "I see them, but ignore them, Little tiger. They have nothing to do with us."

"Ignoring a weed doesn’t stop it from choking the garden, Noah," I said, turning my head to meet Talia’s gaze directly.

I didn’t scowl or give her an angry look. I gave her a slow, bored blink—the kind of look you give a fly that keeps buzzing around your soup, waiting for the right moment to clap it to death.

Talia’s smirk faltered for a second, her fingers twisting. She wasn’t used to someone looking through her instead of at her.

And she probably wasn’t used to getting ignored either.

"Let’s keep moving," I said, turning back to the sheep. "I want to see the new nursery they’re building. If it’s not top-tier, I’m filing a formal complaint with the King."

"Why file a formal complaint when you can just whisper in my ear?" Noah asked, leaning in to brush his breath against my ear stop my head.

My ear twisted and then slid down, pressing on my head.

"Where’s the fun in that?" I asked, hiding the blush on my cheek.

He laughed and said,

"There’s fun in everything when it involves you,"

"Don’t be a pervert now and get moving. You’re in front of your subjects, so behave."

He laughed once again.