Chapter Forty-Eight:
The air inside the command tent was thick, smelling of damp canvas, old maps, and the metallic tang of sharpened steel. The flickering light of the oil lamps cast long, dancing shadows against the walls, mimicking the turmoil brewing within the clan.
Amelia blinked, her mind momentarily stalling as she processed the Chieftess's sudden declaration. She had expected orders regarding the perimeter defenses, or perhaps a reallocation of rations. She had not expected this.
"I'd love to, Chieftess Raven," Amelia replied, her voice automatic, trained to serve. But as the words settled, the reality of the timeline snagged in her throat. "Wait. You mean… tonight?"
Luna, seated behind the heavy oak table that served as her desk, didn't look up from the map she was studying. Her finger traced the edge of the forest line. "Good. We leave within the hour."
