A slow grin spread across his face. "You know, since you’re so big and clever, you can probably carry more than even I can."


    The large lizard snorted, an audible huff that sent a small burst of warm air over Traebus’ face. But it didn’t object.


    Traebus’ grin widened. "Oh, you just made a terrible mistake, my friend. Congratulations—you just volunteered to be my pack mule."


    He pulled out the leather strips and began measuring, stepping around the lizard as it flicked its tail in mild irritation. "Hold still. I need to get this right, or else you’re going to be dropping my stuff all over the jungle. And trust me, I’m not walking back to pick anything up."


    The large lizard shifted its weight but otherwise didn’t protest. The smaller lizards watched with clear amusement as Traebus worked, occasionally chirping to one another as if discussing his methods.


    "Alright, big guy," he said, cutting a strip of hide and holding it up against the lizard’s back. "We’re making you the ultimate prehistoric cargo hauler. Try not to look too fashionable."


    The large lizard let out a soft trill, but unlike the smaller ones, this wasn’t just noise. A distinct ripple of amusement echoed in Traebus’ mind, clearer than before, almost as if the creature was laughing at him. He froze mid-measurement, blinking in surprise.


    He knew the smaller lizards had some level of communication through their empathic link, but this was different. This wasn’t instinct or vague concepts—this was direct, sharper, almost intelligent.


    He raised an eyebrow. "Wait a second… you’re thinking about this, aren’t you?"


    Another amused trill, followed by a distinct pulse of acknowledgment.


    Traebus narrowed his eyes at the beast, then slowly grinned. "Alright, smartass, let’s test something. Do you have a name? A… designation?" He pushed the thought outward as best he could, focusing on the concept of identity.


    The lizard blinked once, then responded. Not with words, not exactly, but with something close. A firm sensation of self. A recognition that it was something more than just another beast in the jungle.


    "Huh," Traebus muttered, rubbing his chin. "Well, that settles it. You’re definitely getting a name."


    He smirked. "Alright, big guy. Let’s start simple. How about... Bob?"


    The lizard''s head tilted slightly. Then, almost immediately, a wave of disapproval hit him like a brick to the brain. A hard no, clear as day.


    Traebus flinched. "Alright, alright! Jeez, didn''t think you''d take offense."


    Before he could come up with something else, another sensation rippled through the link—something different. Not just an impression, but something closer to memory. A flicker of moonlight over dense jungle. The weight of a body pressed low to the ground, waiting, watching. A silent, patient hunt through twilight.


    Traebus exhaled slowly. "Oh. So you''re the sneaky type, huh? Makes sense. Bob was a bad call. Got it."


    The lizard gave what could only be described as an approving huff.


    "Alright, so no Bob. What about Shadow?" Traebus suggested, folding his arms.


    A pulse of rejection. No.


    "Midnight?"


    Another no, this one almost impatient.


    "Phantom?"


    A vague sense of irritation filtered through the link. It didn’t like that one either.


    Traebus let out a dramatic sigh. "Okay, okay! Picky much? What do you want then?"


    For a moment, there was silence—then, something stronger came through. A direct, vivid concept. The dim glow of fading sunlight, long, creeping shadows stretching across the jungle floor, the quiet stillness of the world settling before nightfall.


    Dusk.


    Traebus blinked, absorbing the thought. "Dusk, huh? That’s got a nice ring to it."


    The lizard let out a low, satisfied rumble.


    Traebus smirked. "Alright then, Dusk it is."


    For a moment, he let the name settle between them, testing the weight of their new bond. Then, curiosity got the better of him. He focused on the link, trying to push something simple—an impression of understanding, connection.


    Dusk responded immediately. A slow pulse of acknowledgment, but then something else. A shifting sensation, almost like distant echoes reaching Traebus'' mind. He didn’t just hear it—he felt it.


    Moments flickered through his consciousness, scattered yet vivid. A rushing wall of water, brown and violent, tearing through dense jungle. The sensation of panic, the desperate scramble to higher ground. The smaller lizards, clinging to debris, tossed about like leaves in a storm.


    The island—their island—had not always been their home. The flood had driven them here, a sudden, unrelenting force that had stolen their original territory and left them stranded. A season of struggle followed, surviving off what they could find, adapting, enduring.


    Traebus swallowed, blinking rapidly as the connection faded slightly. That… was more than he had expected. He exhaled and ran a hand down his face. "Alright. So, apparently, you guys didn’t choose this place either. Rough break."


    Dusk rumbled, a quiet, thoughtful sound, and a vague sense of agreement pressed back into his thoughts.


    Traebus exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Well, at least we’ve got something in common."


    He turned back to his makeshift smoker, tending to the meat, rotating the strips to ensure even drying. The steady task gave him time to think, and as he worked, he kept the link open, continuing his silent conversation with Dusk.


    They pushed thoughts back and forth, refining their connection. It was slow, awkward—like learning a new language without words—but they were making progress. Traebus experimented with clearer mental images, focusing on questions rather than vague concepts, and Dusk responded in kind. He learned to read the slight shifts in the lizard’s intent, catching the subtle distinctions between memory and feeling, between instinct and thought.


    As the sun crawled toward midday, the smaller lizards, still restless, scurried through the wreckage of his former camp. Every so often, one would dart back, depositing something near his feet before chirping excitedly. At first, it was just scraps—twisted bits of leather, cracked stone—but then they started bringing him actual valuables. His makeshift tools, buried under debris, the reinforced scraps of his ruined gauntlet, and, miraculously, even his obsidian knife.


    Traebus picked up the knife, rolling it in his fingers with a low chuckle. "You guys really are helpful, huh? Maybe I should start paying you."


    A ripple of agreement rolled back at him, clearer than before. Not just agreement—understanding. A pack, mutual defense.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Family.


    He blinked at the unexpected weight of the thought, the sheer certainty of it. His chest tightened slightly, but he smirked to cover it up. "Alright, alright. No more talk of payment. We stick together, watch each other’s backs. Deal?"


    Another pulse of affirmation, warm and certain.


    He exhaled, shaking his head as he stood. "Well then, let’s make sure this family doesn’t starve."


    With that settled, Traebus set to work preparing one final meal before their departure. He approached the massive carcass of the fallen predator once more, slicing away fresh cuts of meat, though he wrinkled his nose at the scent. The flesh was beginning to turn—still edible, but not for much longer. They would need to leave before the stench attracted scavengers.


    He carried the slabs back to the fire and laid them over the hot embers, letting the flames char the edges. The lizards gathered around him, watching with sharp eyes, their frills twitching with anticipation. Dusk remained a few paces back, observing in a way that almost felt thoughtful.


    "You’d think you guys never had a proper meal before," Traebus muttered as he flipped the meat with his knife. He sliced portions for each of them, tossing chunks toward the eager lizards before setting a piece aside near the still-sleeping injured one. When Dusk rumbled softly, Traebus tore off a larger cut and tossed it toward the massive lizard. "There. A proper feast before we hit the road."


    The jungle around them was quiet—too quiet for his liking. The sooner they were on the move, the better. As the fire crackled, Traebus leaned back on his elbows, exhaustion creeping into his limbs.


    "Alright, last night in this death trap. Eat up, get some rest. We’re leaving at first light."


    For once, the night passed without incident. No monstrous predators crashing through the jungle, no unnatural sounds in the dark, no unexpected disasters. Just the crackle of the fire, the slow breathing of his newfound pack, and the occasional quiet trill of the lizards shifting in their sleep.


    By the time dawn broke, Traebus was already stirring, his mind set on preparation. He stretched, rubbing the stiffness from his shoulders, then immediately got to work. The smoked meat had cooled overnight, and he packed as much of it as he could into the makeshift leather pouches. The rest he left—if something was desperate enough to pick through the remains of his ruined camp, they could have it.


    Next came the scavenged tools, the small collection of sharpened obsidian shards, and the slivers of iron ore he’d managed to collect. Traditionally, he’d need a proper forge to shape metal, but the idea of hammering away at molten ore for hours like some primitive blacksmith made his eye twitch. Mundane people made mundane things. He, however, had magic—and magic, if properly controlled, could do in moments what took others days.


    He rolled an iron fragment between his fingers, considering. If he could channel enough heat, enough force, he might be able to shape something usable directly. No forge, no hammer, just raw will and magic. The idea was enticing. Risky as hell, but enticing.


    Of course, controlling that kind of spellwork without turning himself into a cautionary tale was another matter entirely. His last few attempts at high-output magic had ended in either destruction or a complete breakdown of the laws of physics. He wasn’t sure which was worse.


    With a sigh, he packed the materials anyway. He might not have a solid plan yet, but one thing was certain—he wasn’t leaving good resources behind.


    Dusk watched him in silence, the smaller lizards milling about as if sensing the shift in their routine. When everything was finally packed, Traebus adjusted the straps on his newly crafted pack, slung it over his shoulders, and took one last glance at the remains of his cratered camp.


    "Alright," he exhaled. "Let’s get moving."


    The journey to the river was uneventful, but as the thick jungle canopy gave way to the open shoreline, Traebus felt the weight of their next challenge settle over him. The river was wide—far wider than he liked—and the current churned with unsettling force. The sunlight shimmered off the water, deceptively calm on the surface, but he knew better. This wasn’t some peaceful brook; it was a barrier between them and wherever they were meant to go next.


    He stood at the edge, arms crossed, eyes scanning for any natural crossing points. Nothing. No fallen logs, no conveniently placed rocks, just an expanse of rushing water stretching to the mainland. He exhaled sharply. "Alright, let’s figure this out."


    His first thought was the most obvious: swimming. He quickly dismissed it. Even if he could make it across, the smaller lizards wouldn’t stand a chance against the current, and Dusk—while larger than the others—wasn’t exactly built for endurance swimming. And then there was the real problem.


    The bubbles.


    Traebus had encountered what made them before. Giant crocodiles, prehistoric monsters lurking beneath the surface, patient and deadly. He had fought them, barely survived them, and he had no interest in rolling the dice again. The river wasn’t just a barrier—it was a hunting ground. And right now, he and his pack were potential prey.


    Bringing him to option two: building a raft. He glanced at the scattered driftwood along the banks, considering. It could work—if he had days to properly bind and waterproof the logs. But time wasn’t on his side. They needed to move now.


    Which left magic. His gut clenched at the thought. He could try water-walking again, but given his last near-death experience with it, he wasn’t eager to test his balance against a raging river. He briefly entertained the idea of magically freezing a path across, but that presented its own issues—his magic wasn’t exactly cooperative, and there was a high chance he’d just create an unstable ice bridge and take an unplanned swim anyway.


    Traebus groaned, rubbing his temple. "Okay. Think. Magic’s out of control, swimming’s a death sentence, and raft-building takes too long. What’s left?"


    A thought nudged at the edge of his mind, a faint ripple from Dusk. Not a word, not a command—just movement. A sense of crossing.


    Traebus turned to look at the big lizard. "You got an idea, big guy?"


    Dusk responded immediately, pushing a vivid string of images into Traebus'' mind. He saw logs, heavy and sturdy, rolling into the water. The sensation of riding, of drifting with the current, fast but controlled. And then the strongest impression of all—bubbles left behind.


    Traebus'' breath hitched. That was the key. Instead of fighting the river, they could use it, ride its momentum while avoiding the deeper hunting grounds of the giant crocodiles. A controlled drift toward the opposite shore rather than a full crossing.


    He raised an eyebrow at Dusk. "You''re suggesting we... surf the river?" The lizard let out a low, affirming rumble.


    Traebus ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the shoreline. It wasn''t the worst idea. If they found logs large enough to keep them afloat without fully submerging, they could stay above the danger while the current did most of the work. He just needed to make sure whatever they used was stable enough to keep them on it.


    He exhaled sharply. "Alright, genius. Let''s find ourselves some driftwood and see if this ridiculous plan actually works."


    Traebus set to work, scanning the riverbank for anything they could use. The jungle had been generous with fallen logs, and after some searching, he spotted a few large, sturdy trunks partially buried under layers of foliage and mud. Perfect—if they could haul them to the water.


    He gestured toward the logs and gave the lizards a nudge through their link—move, push, drag. The smaller ones immediately sprang into action, darting around the debris and nudging at the logs with their claws and snouts. Dusk, however, took a more direct approach. With a powerful shove of his shoulder, he dislodged the first log, sending it rolling free with a heavy thud.


    Traebus wiped sweat from his brow. "Alright, that’s one. Five more to go."


    The work was slow, tedious, and required constant vigilance. The last thing he needed was to let his focus slip and end up on the receiving end of a giant crocodile’s ambush. He stole frequent glances at the river, scanning for any new clusters of bubbles. So far, the water remained still—but he knew better than to trust that.


    Log by log, they managed to haul six of the largest pieces they could find down to the riverbank. The sheer weight of them left deep grooves in the mud where they had been dragged. Traebus cracked his knuckles and surveyed their handiwork, nodding in satisfaction.


    "Alright, we''ve got our boats," he muttered. "Now let’s see if they actually float."


    Before he could start testing the logs, the smaller lizards took matters into their own hands—er, claws. With an excited flurry of chirps and trills, they all scrambled onto a single log, settling onto it with an almost practiced ease.


    Traebus stared. Then, slowly, he looked over at the five other logs they had spent hours dragging to the shore. His eye twitched.


    "Oh. So now you tell me we only needed two?" he said, rubbing his forehead. "I swear, if you guys had opposable thumbs, you''d be the death of me."


    Dusk, who had remained silent up until this point, let out a deep, rumbling sound that was unmistakably laughter.


    Traebus shot him a glare. "Oh, don’t you start. You could’ve told me this an hour ago."


    The big lizard huffed, clearly unbothered, as the smaller ones continued adjusting themselves on their chosen log, tails flicking happily. Traebus sighed, hands on his hips. "Fine. Fine. You know what? Let’s just get across this damn river before I lose what little sanity I have left."


    With a deep breath, Traebus grabbed the nearest log and pushed it toward the water. The smaller lizards, still chittering among themselves, wasted no time. As soon as the log touched the river, they scrambled onto it, balancing with impressive ease as the current caught hold and carried them outward. The log bobbed slightly but stayed steady, gliding smoothly across the water.


    Traebus watched them drift, lips pressing into a thin line. "Alright. That actually worked. Maybe this isn''t the worst idea after all."


    Dusk, as usual, remained silent, though Traebus swore he could feel an undercurrent of smug satisfaction through their link. With a roll of his eyes, he moved to the second log and shoved it forward, wading in just enough to balance himself before clambering on. Dusk followed, stepping onto the log with a practiced grace that made Traebus narrow his eyes.


    "You’ve done this before, haven’t you?" he muttered as the log wobbled beneath them. Dusk didn’t respond, only settling into a crouch as the current took hold, sweeping them downstream toward the far shore.


    "Figures." Traebus let out a slow breath as he gripped the log, watching the water carefully. "Now let’s just hope we’re not on the menu today."