The sudden, silent departure of the hunters left an unnerving vacuum in the valley below. One moment, deadly combatants executing targets with chilling efficiency; the next, vanished like phantoms, leaving only cooling corpses and swirling snow. Lunrik stared at the spot where they had disappeared, the shimmering afterimage seeming burned into his vision. Phasing technology? Short-range teleportation? Whatever it was, it gave them an unparalleled advantage in infiltration and escape.
"Report," Fendril murmured into his hidden communicator, his voice low and clipped, relaying the events with precise, technical detail – hunter arrival, engagement with Ashfang scouts, swift neutralization, confirmation of energy weapon effectiveness, utilization of suspected phasing/teleportation tech for extraction. He made no mention of Lunrik's presence or their observation point, adhering strictly to mission parameters.
Lunrik watched the valley, his mind racing. The hunters hadn't targeted them. They hadn't seemed interested in the Ashfang beyond eliminating them as an immediate obstacle or perhaps scanning them for data. Their primary objective remained elusive, but their methods were brutally clear. And their ability to appear and disappear at will made them incredibly dangerous, unpredictable opponents.
"They ignored the pinnacle," Lunrik observed quietly, nodding towards the fang-shaped rock formation the Ashfang had been investigating before the attack. "Their focus was solely on the Ashfang patrol."
Fendril lowered his communicator, considering this. "Perhaps. Or perhaps they deemed the location compromised, aborted any secondary objective they might have had there." He scanned the valley again through his scope. "Regardless, five fewer Ashfang searching for the pass is… advantageous to our primary objective." His pragmatic dwarven logic cut through the mystery.
"But the remaining Ashfang heard the fight," Lunrik pointed out. "Grakkus – or whoever is leading now – will know something is down here eliminating his scouts. He might pull back, or he might send a much larger force to investigate."
"Precisely," Fendril agreed. "Which means our window for observation and disruption is closing rapidly. We need to assess the main camp's reaction, see if we can exploit their confusion or fear." He gestured back the way they came, towards the ridges offering views of the Ashfang encampment near the ice caves. "Let's move. Cautiously."
They retraced their steps, moving with heightened alertness now, acutely aware that the hunters could reappear anywhere, anytime. The earlier encounter had shattered any lingering sense of safety offered by distance or concealment. They were mice navigating a landscape suddenly populated by technologically advanced cats.
Reaching another vantage point overlooking the main Ashfang encampment, they saw immediate changes. The camp was on high alert. Sentries paced nervously, peering into the swirling snow. Warriors clustered together, weapons drawn, growling uneasily. Smoke from their fires seemed thicker, perhaps stoked for comfort against the sudden chill of fear. There was no sign of a large force being dispatched towards the valley where the hunters struck; instead, the Ashfang seemed to be consolidating, adopting a defensive posture.
"They're spooked," Kaelith – no, Lunrik corrected himself, the slip highlighting his weary state – Fendril observed, peering through his scope. "Heard the energy weapon discharges, likely found the remains of their first scout patrol you dealt with earlier, now the valley patrol goes silent after another firefight… They don't know what they're facing."
"Good," Lunrik said. "Fear breeds caution. Slows them down."
"Or breeds paranoia," Fendril countered. "Could make them lash out erratically. Or double down on their objective, trying to reach the pass before whatever is hunting them closes in." He scanned the camp intently. "No sign of a clear leader figure emerging after Grakkus. Looks like… confusion in the ranks. Several alphas seem to be vying for dominance, snarling at each other."
Lunrik saw it too. Small groups clustered around different, larger werewolves, tension radiating between the factions. Without Grakkus's unifying brutality, the inherent Ashfang competitiveness and curse-fueled aggression were turning inwards. Perfect, Alaric's ghost whispered. Internal conflict. Weakens them further.
This presented an opportunity, riskier than simply observing, but potentially far more effective in disrupting their search for the pass.
"Fendril," Lunrik said slowly, formulating a plan, "can those kinetic pulse charges you carry be… precisely targeted? And delayed?"
Fendril lowered his scope, looking at Lunrik with sharp, assessing eyes. "The charges? Yes. Standard deployment involves timed detonation or remote triggering via coded pulse from my communicator. Impact radius is adjustable, vibration intensity tunable. Why?"
"The Ashfang are divided, arguing," Lunrik explained, pointing towards two specific rival factions snarling near the camp's edge. "If we could place a charge between them… timed to detonate after we're clear… create a sudden ground tremor, maybe a small ice collapse seemingly originating from between their positions…"
Fendril's eyes widened slightly as he grasped the implication. "You want to… simulate an attack? Make each faction believe the other initiated hostilities?"
"Exactly," Lunrik confirmed. "Sow discord. Turn their paranoia inwards. They'll be too busy fighting each other, or blaming each other, to focus on searching for the pass. It disrupts their mission far more effectively than minor avalanches on empty slopes."
Fendril considered the plan, stroking his short beard. It was audacious. Deceptive. Utilized dwarven technology for psychological warfare against werewolves. It carried significant risk – getting close enough to plant the charge, timing the detonation correctly, escaping undetected. But the potential payoff… crippling the Ashfang force through internal strife… was immense.
"It violates the 'avoid direct engagement' parameter," Fendril stated, though without immediate disapproval.
"We wouldn't be engaging directly," Lunrik argued. "We plant the charge, trigger it remotely from a safe distance. The Ashfang engage each other. Plausible deniability."
Fendril thought for another moment, his gaze calculating. He likely weighed the risks against the potential benefits to Grimfang's security, the efficiency of neutralizing the Ashfang threat internally versus a prolonged campaign of minor disruptions. He seemed to reach a decision.
"The potential for mission acceleration outweighs the parameter deviation," he concluded clinically. "Acceptable risk profile, provided execution is flawless." He unclipped one of the metallic canisters from his belt – a kinetic pulse charge. "This requires close proximity for precise placement and optimal effect. One hundred units distance, maximum, for reliable remote trigger."
He looked at Lunrik. "You know their behavior. You anticipate their reactions. You will place the charge. I will provide covering observation and trigger the device on your signal."
Lunrik felt a jolt of adrenaline. He hadn't expected to be the one planting the charge. It required getting incredibly close to the paranoid, heavily armed Ashfang camp. But Fendril was right; Lunrik's understanding of werewolf senses and movement offered the best chance of infiltration without immediate detection. And the dwarf providing remote trigger and overwatch was the logical division of labor.
"Agreed," Lunrik said, taking the surprisingly heavy pulse charge from Fendril. It felt cool, inert, yet hummed with contained power. Fendril quickly showed him the activation sequence for planting (a simple pressure seal) and the designated safe withdrawal distance.
"Stealth is paramount," Fendril emphasized. "Wind direction is currently favorable, masking scent. Use the lower ice ridges for cover. Avoid the main perimeter patrols. Place the charge in that fissure between the two rival groups," he pointed it out through his scope. "Ensure it's stable. Signal readiness via communicator – one pulse. Withdraw immediately to rendezvous point bravo," he indicated a specific rock formation further back. "I trigger on your confirmation signal or if compromised. Go now. Luck of the stone attend you, werewolf."
Lunrik nodded grimly. He secured the charge carefully, took a deep breath, and slipped away from their observation post, melting into the shadows of the ice ridges below. He moved low and fast, using every scrap of cover, his senses hyper-alert, keenly aware of the dozens of hostile werewolves just yards away, their paranoia a palpable miasma. He had to get in, plant the seed of discord, and get out, before their internal conflict exploded outwards and consumed him first. The fate of the Ashfang search, and potentially his own survival, depended on the next few minutes of absolute stealth and nerve.