1. Gathering Storm
Dawn broke over Skarth Hollow with an uneasy hush. Frost glazed the tents and weapons an omen, some said, of blood to come. I stood atop the eastern ramparts, watching the valley below where Garrick's supply convoys wound like fat serpents toward Blackwater. Each wagon's wagon wheel gouged the earth as if marking a path of conquest.
Kael joined me, wrapping a woolen cloak around my shoulders. His touch was a tether in the rising gale.
"You've been out here since first light," he murmured.
"I need to see them," I said, voice low. "I need to remember what we fight for."
He nodded, gazing down at the passing wagons. "Supply lines. If we cut them, Garrick's forces starve."
I clenched my fist. "And every wolf he's sold will die in chains."
Kael shifted closer. "The council meets at noon. They'll decide our strike."
I inhaled the cold air, tasting iron like blood on my tongue. "I want warriors at every pass. I want witches channeling frost wards and shadow veils. And I want a small strike team to infiltrate the mines free as many as we can."
His eyes lit. "I've scouted the way. There's an old smuggler's tunnel under the western barbican. It leads straight into the caverns."
A plan formed in my mind like steel forged in flame. "Good. Then tonight, we move."
He took my hand. "You're relentless."
I smiled, though my heart thundered. "I'm newly whole."
2. The Council's Edge
In the Council Hall a cavernous space of rough-hewn stone and firelit braziers wolves and witches circled a great table. Clan leaders draped in pelts, coven elders in embroidered robes, and ranger captains in leather cuirasses. All eyes turned as Kael and I entered.
Selvenna, Matriarch of the Frostfang Clan, leaned forward. Silver hair braided with ice crystals gleamed in torchlight. "Aurora, you propose a full siege of Blackwater?"
I squared my shoulders. "Not a siege. A strike against their lifeblood supply and slave while our main force holds Garrick's army at bay."
Rhoswen, a witch with emerald tattoos coiling up her arms, raised a slender brow. "Bold. But foolhardy. His army outnumbers ours two-to-one."
I met her gaze. "Numbers mean nothing if their stomachs are empty and their feet cannot march."
Murmurs rippled. A siren of tension in the stone hall.
Ruvan stood. "Our scouts confirm the old smuggler's tunnel is unguarded. We can free two hundred wolves before dawn."
Selvenna's voice held steel. "Two hundred freed wolves without a safe haven are eight hundred more mouths to feed."
I held up the ledger. "The Elder Council has already sanctioned our plea for refugee sanctuaries. The caravan routes to the northern tribes with Kellan's network will handle transit."
A hush fell. Rhoswen tapped a rune-etched staff on the table. "If we do this, we risk everything. If we fail…"
I leaned forward, channeling all the authority the Moonwolf reborn could muster. "We will not fail."
Silence stretched. Finally, Lysandra spoke, voice resonant like a bell: "The Moon has chosen her path. We follow."
A chorus of assent answered her.
I exhaled, pulse still booming. "Then at moonrise, we begin."
3. Bonds Forged in Fire
That afternoon, I trained with the strike team: Ruvan, Eira, Kael, and six of the Hollow's fiercest warriors three wolves and three witches. We gathered in the smithy, where molten metal spat sparks against the anvil's ring.
Eira supervised my blade work. "Your swing is too wide. Control the arc strike with the haft, not the edge."
I adjusted my grip, bringing the dagger around in a tighter circle. The edge bit into the practice straw bale with sickening thud. Eira nodded once. "Better. Keep that focus in the mines one slip and silver chains will find your throat."
Ruvan checked my gear: light armor of layered leather, a leather gorget to protect my throat, a dagger in each boot, and a bandolier of frost-ward vials across my chest. "You'll need these," he said, pressing a vial of moonwater into my hand. "One sip, and the frost wards will cloak you from silver-scented hounds for an hour."
I pocketed it, pulse steadying. "Thank you."
Kael approached, his fingers brushing mine. "I'll be at your side."
I looked up, heart stirring. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
His smile was sun-bright. "Then let's burn this midnight raid into Garrick's nightmares."
4. Into the Darkness
When the moon rose, full and untarnished, we gathered at the tunnel mouth an old stone arch half-buried in moss. Two wolves padded silently ahead, senses alert; two witches murmured shadow wards by the entrance.
Ruvan granted us a slow nod. "Stay close. Keep to the left tunnel. We emerge by the northern ventilation shaft."
I lifted my dagger. "Moonguide us."
We slipped inside, torch held aloft. The tunnel narrowed, rock dripping with condensation, the air growing stale. Frost clung to the walls despite the effort of flickering flame.
After ten minutes, the passage opened into a cavern so vast my breath caught. Shafts of pale moonlight pierced cracks above. Below lay the Blackwater mines: winding stone tunnels, clinking chains, the distant clamor of pickaxes.
Eira knelt beside the first grate. "This is it." She traced a rune of silence on the iron bars. The metal groaned, then peeled back. "Stay low."
We dropped into the tunnel beyond. The air thrummed with heat and fear. Faint torchlight bobbed ahead guards on patrol.
Rhoswen whispered an incantation. A shadow wave rolled out, swallowing us in darkness. We pressed against the wall, heartbeats loud in ears.
A guard's boot pattered past his lantern glow mere feet away. Eira's silver blade slipped from its sheath; she struck without a sound. The guard crumpled, lantern skittering. We dashed past.
My pulse thudded so hard I thought the guards might hear it. We turned a corner, coming upon the first cell rows: iron doors, heavy locks, the muffled sobs of prisoners.
I knelt at the first door: a young wolf-shifter, eyes wide with hope and terror. The frost-ward vial glowed in my hand. I uncorked it, poured moonwater over the lock it iced solid and shattered. I yanked the door open.
"One at a time," I whispered. "Keep them calm."
I slipped my knife's flat between chains and locks, deftly freeing the first four wolves. They stumbled forward, ribs scraping their flanks from malnourishment, but they straightened when Eira and Rhoswen laid hands on them, reciting healing charms.
A distant bell tolled an alarm. Blackwater soldiers' shouts echoed through the corridors.
Ruvan signaled retreat. "Move!"
We ushered freed wolves down the tunnel as Eira and Rhoswen fell back, chanting a veil of darkness to cover our withdrawal.
My heart pounded. As we neared the grate exit, two silver-armed guards blocked the way. Their blades flashed. The wolves snarled.
Kael stepped forward, sword drawn. "Back. Or die."
They lunged. Steel rang. Kael's sword sang as he parried and struck a dance of death beneath the moonlight filtering through cracks above. I joined the fray, daggers flashing, frost wards crackling with magic.
The battle was swift, brutal. In seconds, the guards fell. Behind us, more alarms sounded.
"Go!" Ruvan roared. "The tunnel collapses soon!"
We bolted, wolves and witches and ranger and Moonwolf alike, adrenaline burning in our veins. Behind us, Eira's final chant tore at the earth stones trembled as the entrance collapsed, burying the tunnel and slowing pursuit.
We spilled into the forest, breathless, wounded, victorious. Around us, two dozen wolves shaken but free howled their gratitude.
I fell to my knees, chest heaving. Kael knelt beside me, wrapping a cloak around my shoulders. I looked up at him eyes blazing.
"We did it," he whispered.
I nodded, tears stinging. "We did."
5. Fires of Resolve
Back at Skarth Hollow, fires burned bright, healing tents lined the outskirts, and freed wolves huddled with witches' salves on open wounds. The Hollow had never looked more alive or more determined.
At the central firepit, I stood once more before the assembled clans. Ruvan presented the ledger. "The mines are ours, for now," he announced. "Two dozen escaped, many more to come when Garrick's forces are tied up by supply chaos."
A roar rose from the crowd hope and fury entwined.
I raised my voice. "Tonight, we struck at Garrick's heart. Tomorrow, we strike again. Let every chained wolf know that the Moonwolf hunts for them. Let every soldier tremble at the thought of our vengeance."
The assembly thundered approval.
I let their cries wash over me strength, purpose, and a fierce joy. The ember of war had kindled into flame.
Kael's hand found mine in the crowd. "You're a beacon," he said softly.
I squeezed his fingers, feeling the warmth of his faith. "We're a beacon."
6. Aftermath and Promise
In the aftermath, I walked among the freed wolves some too weak to stand, others already beginning to grow their silver coats back. I knelt before one young pup, barely a year old, eyes haunted.
"Your name?" I asked.
He blinked. "Finn."
"Finn," I repeated. I laid a hand on his head. "You're safe now. And you have a home."
His tail gave a tentative wag trust reborn.
Behind me, Lysandra joined Kael and Ruvan. She placed a hand on my shoulder. "Your strike was masterful," she said. "But this is only the beginning."
I inhaled the scent of smoke and woodland, of healing flesh and magic. "I know. Garrick will strike back."
"He will," Lysandra agreed. "But he'll think twice now."
I turned to the horizon where Blackwater's outline smudged against the night. "Then we prepare for the next move."
Kael slid his arm around me. "Together."
I leaned into him, feeling both wolf and woman two halves made unstoppable by bond and purpose.
"Together," I echoed.
And under the watchful eye of the full moon, the Hollow prepared for the war to come hearts alight with vengeance, souls bound by the Moon, and one woman reborn as wolf to lead them into the darkness.