The next morning was dominated by avian orthopedic surgery.
The injured Griffin warrior, Rhen, was moved to a high, secluded shelf on the cliff face—the only place safe from the inquisitive paws of the Lions and the silent surveillance of the Wolves. Elara worked in the thin, crisp air, aided by Zev, the Storm Griffin Alpha, who was a surprisingly attentive, if highly stressed, surgical assistant.
"You must hold the tendon sheath at this specific tension," Elara instructed, her brow furrowed in concentration. She was using her fine suture from the Black Mire roots, combined with the flexible Desert Gecko Sheath, to repair the torn primary tendon. "If you pull too hard, Rhen will never achieve flight altitude again. If you pull too little, the wing will droop."
Zev was perched beside her, his immense hands, tipped with razor-sharp claws, trembling slightly with the delicacy required. His usual volatile energy was replaced by intense, protective focus.
"I understand tension," Zev whispered, his stormy blue eyes locked on the damaged wing. "It is the difference between a controlled glide and a deadly stall. The Sky-Riders must fly."
I appreciate the anatomical metaphor, Elara thought, tying off the final, critical suture. But please stop breathing directly onto the sterile field.
The work was painstaking, requiring Elara to use every ounce of her human precision. She finished the internal repair, then used her precious gecko sheath to create a custom-fitted, flexible splint around the damaged area, securing it with Kaelen's strongest fiber.
"Done," Elara announced, pulling off the crude gauze she'd been using for a mask. "The wing is mended. Six suns of absolute rest, light stretching only. No flying. No jumping. No high-altitude arrogance."
Rhen, who had been gritting his teeth through the procedure, let out a deep, relieved sigh. Zev, however, looked not at the patient, but at the healer.
"You have given Rhen back the sky, Elara Vance," Zev said, his voice thick with a gratitude that was instantly possessive. He reached out and gently brushed a damp lock of hair from her forehead. His touch was light, almost feathery, but the sheer heat and electrical charge were undeniable.
"You have earned the trust of the Sky-Riders. When we fly, you will fly with us. You are safer above the clouds than you are near the grounded ones."
"I am needed on the ground right now, Alpha," Elara said firmly, stepping back and gathering her tools. "Your payment was two hunting hawks and a truce. I accept nothing further, especially not kidnapping by air."
Zev laughed, a bright, dangerous sound. "The payment was only for the service, little Weaver. The protection is a separate, permanent courtesy. You are too fragile, too essential, and too scented to be left with the heavy-handed Lion and the sneaking Wolf."
The Scramble for the Asset
Zev's growing attachment was not going unnoticed.
As Elara descended the cliff face, she was met by two figures who clearly hadn't slept: Alpha Kaelen and Alpha Roric. They stood on the path below, radiating mutual loathing and a unified, intense interest in her person.
"The Griffin attempts to violate the truce," Kaelen growled, his golden eyes narrowed in fury at the high shelf where Zev still hovered protectively over Rhen. "He speaks of taking my property."
"He speaks of necessity," Roric corrected coolly, his silver eyes fixed on Elara. "The Sky-Rider's strength is his mobility. If the Feral Tide comes, Zev offers the quickest escape. Kaelen offers only a ground fight."
"I offer superior strength and territory!" Kaelen bellowed.
"And a high probability of death by being too slow," Roric countered smoothly.
Elara sighed, rubbing her temples. "Gentlemen! Rule #5: No arguing my potential escape routes. It's stressful. The point is, I am not going anywhere. My Beta patient, Torvin, is not stable enough to travel yet, and frankly, my flying skills are atrocious."
Kaelen seized on this. "Then you will remain in the den. The Lion offers the safest, most defended sanctuary. We will reinforce the perimeter walls now, to protect our asset."
"No," Roric interjected, stepping closer to Elara. "The safest place is always the quietest place. I need you to accompany me to the Shadow Wood. I need your eyes to assess my warriors' current state of preparedness. I will not 'fortify.' I will relocate the most vulnerable. This is better strategy than merely adding height to the walls, Lion."
Elara saw the opportunity. Kaelen offered brute protection, which was visible and appealing. Roric offered tactical survival, which was hidden and essential. And Zev? Zev offered freedom and speed, which was the most dangerous lure of all.
"We will do both," Elara announced, stepping between the two giants again. "Kaelen, you will immediately detail three of your strongest, healthiest Lions to reinforce the walls. Use the rubble near the south face. Roric, I will accompany you to the Shadow Wood at sunset to assess your warriors' infection risk and physical fitness. I will be your temporary medic."
Kaelen looked furious that she would spend time with his rival, but Roric looked genuinely surprised and pleased.
"The Lion reinforces my base," Kaelen growled, unable to hide his displeasure.
"The Wolf receives the healer's personal attention," Roric replied, a tiny, rare smile touching his lips. "I find this arrangement... pleasing."
Suddenly, Zev's voice boomed down from the cliff face, carrying the full force of a threatened Alpha.
"The healer is exhausted, Roric! She will not work through the night! She needs rest!"
Elara looked up and waved dismissively at the soaring Alpha. "Alpha Zev! Rule #6: I decide when I need rest. And I need to assess the Wolf tribe's health before they ambush you all with a nasty stomach bug. Now, if you want to be useful, fly down and deliver this poultice to Torvin's den. And don't spill it!"
Zev's pride was once again forced into servitude. He descended, grudgingly took the small, leaf-wrapped poultice, and flew off toward the Lion den, his massive wings thrumming with offended dignity.
Elara turned to Roric, the corners of her mouth twitching. "See, Alpha Roric? Controlled chaos. Now, about those Shadow Wood ambush locations..."
Roric's silver eyes held hers, a profound sense of shared cunning passing between them. He offered her a quick, dry nod of respect—the highest compliment she had received in the Beastworld.
"We leave in one hour," he said softly. "Dress warmly, Elara Vance. The Shadow Wood is cold, and the Wolf does not tolerate slowness."
Elara smiled, her first genuine smile since her crash landing. She had just survived a three-way turf war by demanding her rivals act like civilized medical aides.
I am not just surviving, she realized, strapping her knife onto her hip. I am adapting. And I might actually enjoy running this chaotic, muscled circus.