The Dawn Attack
The attack came at dawn.
Not subtle. Not strategic. Just brutal, overwhelming force designed to break us before we could properly respond. Coordinated strikes on three border points simultaneously, each one calculated to split our forces and leave us vulnerable. The coordination alone told me this wasn't random. This was planned. Deliberate.
"They're organized," Marcus panted, running to where I stood on the eastern border watching flames rise from the western checkpoint. His face was streaked with soot and blood, though I couldn't tell if it was his or someone else's. "Professional. Not rogues. Not random raiders. This is..."
"Planned," I finished, my stomach sinking as the implications settled over me. "By someone who knows our territory. Our defenses. Our..." Recognition hit like a physical blow. "Our weak points."
"Who?" Ronan demanded. He was already shifted, his massive Direwolf form radiating barely contained violence. Ready for battle. Hungry for it.
