And now, with two packs already fallen, the wilds were stirring. The rogues were no longer content with lurking in the shadows. They were watching, waiting... preparing. Something was coming. And when it did, the packs would never be the same again.
Now, two of the packs had fallen. The Red-Moon and Silver-Moon Packs had been decimated by relentless rogue attacks, leaving only the Black-Moon Pack in the east and the Golden-Moon Pack in the north. Lauretta's heart sank as she listened to the Alphas and Betas discuss their dire situation. Their forces were stretched thin, and the loss of two packs had left their borders vulnerable to further attacks. Worse, there were rumors of traitors within their ranks, wolves who had betrayed their own kind and aligned with the rogues—wolves who believed the caste system should be abolished, that no pack should have Alphas or hierarchy.
The chamber was heavy with tension, the flickering torchlight casting restless shadows across grim, exhausted faces. Voices clashed, some raised in anger, others hushed with quiet dread. Strategies were argued, but no real solutions emerged. For every plan to reinforce the borders, there was the reality of dwindling numbers. For every suggestion of seeking alliances, there was the risk of walking into a trap.
"The eastern border won't hold," one voice stated, tight with frustration. "Every time we push them back, they return stronger, more coordinated. This is not mindless chaos—someone is leading them."
"Perhaps the traitors," another suggested darkly. "Or worse... an Alpha in the shadows."
A chill crept up Lauretta's spine. A rogue Alpha? The thought was unthinkable. Rogues were outcasts, scattered, leaderless. If they had someone uniting them, turning them into an army, then this wasn't just a war of survival anymore—it was a revolution.
She gritted her teeth, unable to stay silent. "We can't keep waiting for them to strike. We need to act before it's too late."
All eyes turned to her, some filled with surprise, others with skepticism.
"And what do you suggest?"
Her pulse pounded, but she didn't hesitate. "We root out the traitors. No matter who they are. And we find the one leading the rogues before they come for the rest of us. If we don't stop them now, there won't be a pack left to protect."
Silence stretched, thick with unspoken fears. Then, one by one, nods of agreement followed.
The war for survival had already begun.
The room was thick with frustration as the Alphas debated their next move.
"We can't keep waiting to be attacked!" one of the Alphas growled, slamming his fist on the table. His fiery tone betrayed his anger and desperation. "If we don't take the fight to them, they'll pick us off one by one until there's nothing left!"
"And how do you propose we do that?" The other Alpha, Marcus, snapped—his patience wearing thin, his eyes glowed golden, showing he was losing control. His voice was sharp, but exhaustion dulled the edges. "Our forces are already spread too thin. If we try to reclaim the fallen territories, we'll leave ourselves exposed. It's suicide."
The Betas exchanged uneasy glances, clearly reluctant to weigh in. Lauretta could see the truth in both arguments. Attacking the rogues directly was risky, but doing nothing wasn't much better.
"What about the human territory?" one of the Betas asked hesitantly. "If we could—"
"No!" the second Alpha cut him off sharply. "The treaty is sacred. If we break it, we'll have more than rogues to deal with. The humans might not know about us, but if we step foot in their lands, they'll retaliate. And you know as well as I do that humans have their own weapons and allies. That's not a risk we can take."
The room fell silent, the weight of their predicament settling over them like a suffocating blanket. Finally, the first Alpha spoke again, his voice lower but no less firm.
"Then we focus on defense. We fortify our borders and root out the traitors in our midst. If we can't attack, we'll make sure they can't destroy what we have left."
The others nodded reluctantly, though the tension in their eyes remained. Lauretta bit her lip as she absorbed their words. They were trying to save what was left of their world, but she couldn't shake the feeling that defense alone wouldn't be enough. The rogues weren't just aimless outcasts—they were organized, strategic, and brutal. If the packs didn't act soon, the chaos would only grow.
As the meeting drew to a close, Lauretta carefully slithered back the way she came, her every movement deliberate and soundless. Dust clung to her clothes and hair, but she didn't care. Her mind was a storm of thoughts, each more unsettling than the last. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, but beneath it all, she could still smell the tension that had hung in the room like a suffocating cloud.
She had known the situation was dire, but not like this. The fragile alliances between the packs were fraying, stretched to their limits by desperation and distrust. If war broke out, there would be no victors—only death, ruin, and a world left in ashes. A world she had sworn to protect.
Reaching the mouth of the vent, Lauretta paused. Curled in the cramped vent, her body ached from holding still for so long. Dust tickled her nose, and panic surged as an itch blossomed deep in her sinuses. Her breath hitched. No, no, not now. The urge to sneeze clawed at her throat like a curse. She clenched her jaw, pressing her fingers hard against her upper lip, praying the sensation would pass. One sound—one slip—and the meeting below would come to a halt. They'd drag her out, brand her a traitor, and she'd be dead before sunrise. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she forced herself to breathe through her mouth, silently counting to ten, willing the sensation away.
Just as the sneeze retreated, something moved near her elbow. She shifted slightly, peering into the shadows and froze. A spider, bulbous and glistening black, inched toward her on twitching legs. Its crimson-marked body was unmistakable. Poisonous. A bite from that thing could paralyze her within seconds. Her blood turned to ice. She couldn't scream. Couldn't flinch. Couldn't risk a sound. Sweat dripped down her temple as she slowly, painstakingly inched her arm away. The spider paused. She didn't breathe. Then, with one desperate twist, she jerked back, just enough to avoid the creature's touch. It skittered away into the darkness, and she collapsed against the metal wall, trembling, barely holding back a gasp.
The elders would never approve of what she was about to do. The laws were clear, the boundaries set in stone. But what use were rules if they led to annihilation? If the packs wouldn't act, she would. Even if it meant defying everything she had been taught.
She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. There was no turning back now.
Silently, she prayed for a miracle, but she wasn't foolish enough to rely on one. If fate refused to intervene, then she would carve a path forward herself no matter the cost.