Elara was exhausted, but energized by the sheer power of her current situation. She had spent the evening cleaning the Lion Beta's stitches and setting up a rudimentary physical therapy plan for the Griffin warrior's wing. Her currency—medical necessity—was now accepted by the three most dangerous beings in Aetheria.
Time to cash in, she decided, staring out from her cave at the twin moons casting a cold silver light over the oasis. You can't successfully manage a high-value asset if the asset is constantly being used as a tug-of-war rope by three separate, hyper-muscled, territorial morons.
First, she needed to retrieve the Shadow Wolf Alpha's agreement.
She went to Kaelen's lair, where the Lion Alpha was, predictably, sulking. He was lounging on his fur throne, meticulously oiling a vicious-looking claw, radiating the deep, silent displeasure of a magnificent creature whose pride has been severely wounded.
"Alpha Kaelen," Elara said, standing far enough back to avoid the heat, but close enough to be heard. "I have just saved your Beta's life and secured a trade route truce by healing the Griffin's warrior. You are currently indebted to me."
Kaelen grunted. "You heal. That is your purpose. My purpose is to claim."
"Your purpose is also to win the next battle," Elara countered. "And Alpha Roric, the Shadow Wolf, is the most intelligent threat you face. He knows where your food caches are, he knows your patrol patterns, and he knows how to exploit your vulnerabilities."
Kaelen looked up, his golden eyes narrowing. "You speak highly of the Wolf."
"I speak highly of facts," Elara said dismissively. "Roric visited me last night, Alpha. He offered me protection and tools in exchange for my services. He is smart enough to see me as a strategic asset, not just a flashy trophy. You are currently fighting a war on three fronts—Wolf, Griffin, and the Feral Tide. You cannot win if you keep me locked away in your den like a piece of jewelry."
She stepped closer, dropping her voice to a low, conspiratorial tone. "The Wolf wants me for strategy. The Griffin wants me for mobility. I want to make sure I don't die in your tribal politics. The only way for me to function is for all three of you to agree to a neutral zone. Now. Before the next fight costs you more than a few feathers."
"And you think I will meet with the Shadow Wolf and the Sky-Rider? On your command?" Kaelen scoffed, rising slowly, his immense presence filling the space. "You grow too bold, tiny human. My patience is thin."
"Then let it snap. But you will lose your medic," Elara snapped back, holding her ground. "I am calling a Mandatory Consultation at sunup. You will be there. Or your tribe will suffer the consequences of my permanent absence."
She didn't wait for his reply. She simply turned and walked away, leaving the furious Lion to deal with the unprecedented demand.
The Venue and the Rules
By dawn, the stage was set.
Elara chose the central, open spring—the spot where she had crash-landed—as the neutral zone. She was dressed in new, rough-spun leather clothes provided by a surprisingly helpful (and possibly bribed) Lioness, looking more like an exasperated camp coordinator than a healer.
She arrived first, carrying her medical kit and a small, sharp knife.
The first to arrive, predictably, was Alpha Roric, the Shadow Wolf. He appeared silently, materializing from the shadows of the rock face like a trick of the light. He was draped in dark furs, his pale silver eyes assessing the scene with cold, surgical precision.
"You summoned me, Elara Vance," Roric stated, his voice smooth and devoid of humor. "You choose a dangerous path, placing yourself between three fires."
"I choose the only path that ensures my survival, Alpha," Elara replied, setting her bag down. "Rule number one: You will not touch the Lion. You will not touch the Griffin. You will keep your hands, claws, and teeth to yourself."
Roric's lip curled in a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk. "And what if I disagree?"
"Then I will release the Lion Beta, Torvin, from my care immediately," Elara warned. "If he dies of sepsis, Alpha Kaelen will assume it was you, and he will start a war you may not be prepared for. Medical leverage, Alpha. It's surprisingly effective."
Roric nodded slowly, an appreciation for cunning in his eyes. "A powerful weapon, the fear of death. I admire your use of it."
Moments later, a furious golden blur resolved itself into Alpha Kaelen, stomping into the oasis. He was radiating enough suppressed fury to power a small city. He stopped when he saw Roric, and an animalistic snarl instantly ripped from his throat.
"Wolf," Kaelen growled, his hand already flexing, ready to tear Roric limb from limb.
"Lion," Roric returned coolly.
"Enough!" Elara barked, stepping directly between them. "Rule number two: No threatening growls, no showing of teeth, and absolutely no touching. You are here for a medical consultation, not a mating ritual. Sit down, both of you. You are stressing my ability to concentrate."
To her astonishment, Kaelen's immense rage stalled. He looked from Roric's amused silver eyes to Elara's stern, challenging human face, and the sheer absurdity of the situation forced him to comply. He sat, stiff and magnificent, a few feet from Roric, like a disgruntled sun god forced to attend sensitivity training.
The Griffin's Grand Entrance
The final participant, Alpha Zev, the Storm Griffin, made his entrance with maximum theatrical flourish. A powerful wind suddenly swept through the oasis, carrying the crisp scent of alpine air. Zev descended from the sky in a blinding, feather-tipped blur, landing dramatically on the lip of the spring, scattering drops of water everywhere.
"The wind carries interesting news," Zev declared, spotting the other two Alphas seated like overgrown, angry schoolchildren. He laughed—a bright, mocking sound. "Look at the grounded beasts! Forced to listen to the dirt-walker!"
"Zev," Elara said, cutting through his triumph. "Your punctuality is appreciated. Your ego is not. Sit."
Zev was less inclined to listen than Kaelen, but he paused, seeing the fierce seriousness in Elara's eyes. He looked at the Lion's suppressed rage and the Wolf's chilling calm. He sat, but closer to Elara, radiating an aura of possessive familiarity designed entirely to annoy the other two.
"Rule number three, Zev," Elara said, ignoring the possessiveness. "If you try to fly off with me, I will make sure the Wolf knows exactly where your aerie is."
Zev flinched, his blue eyes widening in surprise at her threat. "You would betray me?"
"I would ensure my survival. I am Switzerland, gentlemen. Armed, neutral, and extremely valuable."
The Terms of the Truce
Elara stood before the three apex predators—Lion, Wolf, and Griffin—the only human in a hundred miles, holding all the power.
"I need to work. To work, I need a stable environment," she began, dropping all humor. "You are fighting over water, territory, and a small, cynical doctor who is currently your only line of defense against infection. This stops now."
Neutral Zone: "The oasis and my cave are a neutral medical zone. Any fighting here means I walk. If I walk, your wounded die, and the Feral Tide will destroy you all."
Resource Sharing: "I need certain supplies: boiled water, ash, specific herbs. Alpha Kaelen, your tribe will provide the ground resources. Alpha Roric, your stealth will be used to safely secure outside materials. Alpha Zev, your mobility will be used for rapid transport of my patients and supplies. You will cooperate."
The Feral Tide: "I am not just treating your fevers. I am preparing you for the coming Feral Tide. You will provide me with all tactical information on the Tide's movements. You are three minds, three elements. I will be your temporary, central command. Medical necessity dictates I lead."
The three Alphas were silent, their powerful auras clashing, the air thick with resistance. They were being ordered by a creature who was, biologically, their snack. But the logic was undeniable.
Kaelen was the first to concede, driven by pride and the memory of his Beta's near-death. "We will abide the truce... so long as the little healer remembers who gives the ultimate command."
Roric, the strategist, nodded slowly. "The Wolf accepts the necessity of the alliance, for now. And I will enjoy watching Kaelen be ordered around by a female."
Zev, the most impulsive, leaned in. "I accept the terms, Elara, on one condition: If the Lion or the Wolf touch you, I have the right to intervene without penalty."
Elara sighed. "Fine. But you have to land before you intervene. No dive-bombing the infirmary."
The uneasy, hilarious truce was struck. Elara Vance, the ER doctor, had just formed a dangerous, high-value alliance with the three most lethal Alphas of Aetheria.
Next objective: Elara thought, gathering her supplies. Force them to sit in a room together for longer than ten minutes without resorting to homicide.