Ashgrove's morning was no warmer than its nights, but the smoky sky burned crimson as the rising sun strained against the dense canopy. The scent of moss, damp wood, and distant rot clung to everything. Life was beginning to take shape inside Kael's camp—but it was a life born of hardship, stitched together with tension and blood.
Kael awoke early, before most of the pride. His golden eyes blinked open beneath the overhang of a half-built den. The bedding—woven ferns and dry leaves—was far from comfortable, but his body had adapted. Pain no longer surprised him. Fatigue no longer deterred him.
He stretched and rose, muscles rippling under his thickening coat. The Abyssal mark on his chest pulsed faintly—dormant, but present. A symbol of what he had become… and what he might yet evolve into.
The soft footfalls behind him were unmistakable.
"You never sleep long," Nyra said, stepping up beside him. Her dark coat shimmered under the slivers of red light, and the nightlion's gaze was already narrowed in thought.
"There's too much to do," Kael replied. "The walls are too low. The scouts too few. And our stores…"
"Still pathetic," Nyra finished with a smirk.
Kael didn't smile, but he didn't deny it either.
They walked side by side to the center of the camp. Already, the morning routines had begun. Rakkan barked orders as he helped erect another barricade using tree trunks. Lira, the lynx-like healer, stirred pungent herbs over a fire. Two adolescent wolves wrestled noisily near the creek, while Valea sat alone under a crooked birch, quietly licking her bandaged wounds.
Kael's eyes lingered on Valea.
"She's healing faster than expected," he noted.
"Too fast," Nyra muttered. "Either she's got a gift… or something unnatural in her blood."
Kael turned to her. "You still don't trust her."
"She's hiding something," Nyra said, tail twitching. "And I don't like the way she looks at you."
Kael raised a brow. "You worried she'll take your place?"
Nyra snorted. "No one can. But I don't want her poisoning what we've built."
Before Kael could reply, Rakkan approached, his mane bristling.
"Three more recruits found on the forest fringe," he rumbled. "Deserters from a hyena pack. Malnourished, but not broken."
Kael nodded. "Bring them in. Test them. If they're weak, give them menial labor. If they show promise, train them."
"And if they bite?" Rakkan asked.
Kael's eyes hardened. "Then we bury them."
Later That Day – Construction and Shadows
Progress was slow, but visible.
Dens were being reinforced with sharpened stakes. A watchtower of sorts—a rickety platform hoisted into a tree—was being erected by the wolves. They called it "the Howler's Nest." It offered a clear view of the southern woods, but still left much blind to the north and west.
Kael stood on the rise overlooking the camp, deep in thought. The defenses were primitive. If a real warband arrived tomorrow, the Thornclaw Pride would scatter before sundown.
He needed more.
Not just numbers—but strategy. Structure. Culture.
"Alpha," came a soft voice.
Kael turned. It was Valea, walking slowly, tail low, ears flattened in cautious respect.
"I've finished organizing the healing supplies," she said. "Lira said we'll need more bluecap mushrooms. I volunteered to go gather them."
Kael studied her.
"You're recovering."
"I'm useful," she countered. "Let me prove it."
He nodded. "Take a partner. No one leaves the camp alone."
Valea hesitated. "Could I take one of the wolves? The panther—Nyra—makes me… uneasy."
Kael didn't answer directly. "You'll take Fen, the younger of the two wolves. He's reckless, but eager. And report back by sunset."
She bowed her head. "Thank you… Alpha."
As she turned to go, Nyra emerged from the trees behind him like a shadow.
"You're giving her more leash," she said.
"She hasn't bitten yet."
"She will."
Kael's tail flicked. "When she does, I'll be ready."
There was silence between them for a time.
Then Nyra asked, "Do you trust me?"
Kael's gaze met hers. "I don't need to."
Nyra blinked.
"I know you," he said. "You'll protect this pride even if it costs you everything. I don't need trust to know that."
Something softened in her expression. She leaned against him briefly, pressing her shoulder to his.
"I still might kill her."
Kael smirked. "Wait until she finishes gathering the mushrooms."
Dusk – The Western Border
The wind carried a foul scent that evening.
Not enough to trigger an alarm—but enough to make Kael lift his head from the shallow pool where he was drinking.
Something in the air had changed.
And Kael wasn't the only one to sense it.
Rakkan came to him after dark, eyes wary.
"The birds stopped singing in the western stretch. The trees are still… too still. We're being watched."
Kael's fur bristled. "You're certain?"
Rakkan nodded. "It's not prey. It's patience. Something intelligent. Hunting us with time."
Kael looked to the firelight flickering in the center of camp.
"We increase night patrols," he ordered. "Double rotations. No one sleeps without someone guarding."
"And if it's nothing?" Rakkan asked.
Kael's voice dropped to a growl.
"Then we get stronger through fear."
At the Edge of the Ridge of Bones…
In a valley smothered by fog and bone, Grothak, the Emberlord, towered over the corpses of the latest prey. His warband—hulking beasts, many twisted by flame and corruption—surrounded him in reverent silence.
One of them bowed.
"My lord… the trail of the silver-furred feline continues north, toward Ashgrove."
Grothak tilted his head. His burning mane crackled. The charred crown fused to his skull glowed softly, pulsing with hunger.
"She survived…" he said, voice like burning coal. "And found a pride."
He turned toward the horizon, where crimson clouds bled into the forest canopy.
"Good. Let her feed their hope."
His fangs bared in a grin.
"So I may burn it down myself."