The hardest part of modernizing a primitive Beastworld army wasn't the lack of gunpowder or electricity; it was the surplus of ego.
Two days after the "Mandatory Tactical Assembly," Elara found herself standing on a high rock shelf, holding a polished piece of copper sheet, trying to teach a terrifying Storm Griffin the concept of an alphabet.
"No, Zev," Elara sighed, lowering the copper sheet. "Three short flashes means 'S'. Three long flashes means 'O'. You just signaled 'S-O-Banana'. Which is not a distress code, it's a grocery list."
Zev, hovering on a thermal updraft fifty feet away, looked affronted. "The light is too fast! And why must I use the human clicks? I should just screech! My screech carries the fear of the storm!"
"Your screech also alerts every Feral beast within ten miles that dinner is served," Elara shouted back. "We need *silence*. Try again. 'Enemy Spotted North'. Dash-Dot-Dash. Go."
Below them, on the canyon floor, Alpha Kaelen and Alpha Roric were watching this spectacle with varying degrees of impatience.
Kaelen was currently attempting "Stealth Training," which mostly involved him crouching behind a boulder that was slightly too small for his massive frame, looking like a golden mountain trying to hide behind a pebble. He was vibrating with the effort of not roaring.
"This is undignified," Kaelen rumbled, his voice vibrating the very rock he was hiding behind. "A Lion does not *skulk* in the dirt like a lizard. A Lion announces his presence!"
"A Lion who announces his presence gets shot with a poisoned arrow," Roric murmured from the shadows of a nearby crevice. The Wolf Alpha was practically invisible, blending perfectly with the stone. "Elara is right, Kaelen. You are a siege weapon. You do not fire the siege weapon until the target is in range. Currently, you are just a loud, golden target."
Kaelen growled, snapping a thick branch in his hand like a twig. "I hate the blinking light. I hate the hiding. I want to *bite* something."
"Patience, fluffy," Elara called down, catching the tail end of his complaint. "You'll get your bite. But only after Zev learns how to use a flashlight."
### The Deployment
By mid-afternoon, the trap was set.
Roric's scouts had identified a ravine known as the **Serpent's Gulch** as the likely path for the next Feral Tide raiding party. It was a narrow, twisting canyon with high walls—perfect for a bottleneck ambush.
Elara positioned herself on a high ridge overlooking the Gulch, flanked by two of Roric's silent Wolf guards. From here, she had a clear view of the battlefield. She felt like a conductor about to lead an orchestra of violence.
"Check in," she whispered, holding her signaling mirror.
Above, a faint flash of light from the clouds: **.-.. (L - Lion Ready).** *Zev was relaying Kaelen's position. Good.*
From the shadows of the canyon floor, a single, silver glint: **.-- (W - Wolf Ready).** *Roric was in position.*
Now, they waited.
The heat was oppressive. Elara wiped sweat from her brow, her heart hammering against her ribs. This was it. Her theory that three rival Alphas could work together was about to be tested against a horde of armored monsters.
Then, she saw it.
A dust cloud on the horizon. Not the chaotic, scattered dust of wild animals, but a rhythmic, marching dust.
Elara raised her mirror and flashed the signal to Zev: **Enemy Sighted.**
Zev, soaring high above the cloud layer, dipped his wing in acknowledgement. He circled once, silently, confirming the numbers. He flashed back: **3-0. (Thirty).**
Thirty armed Feral beasts.
Elara flashed the signal to the ground: **Wait.**
### The Trap Springs
The Feral Tide marched into the Gulch. They were nightmare fuel—hulking, hyena-like creatures walking on two legs, wearing crude armor fashioned from the scales of giant desert lizards and bits of scavenged metal. They snarled and sniffed the air, but the wind was blowing toward the ambushers, masking the scent of the Lions and Wolves.
They reached the center of the Gulch. The bottleneck.
Elara took a deep breath. She angled her mirror to catch the full blaze of the sun and flashed the signal toward the dark crevice where Roric waited.
**.- - - .- -.-. -.- (ATTACK).**
The reaction was instantaneous and terrifyingly precise.
Roric didn't just attack; he *disintegrated* the ground beneath them. The Wolves had spent the morning undermining the canyon floor. With a synchronized heave, they collapsed the support beams.
**CRACK-BOOM!**
The front ranks of the Feral Tide fell screaming into a pit of spiked stakes. Chaos erupted in the canyon. The remaining Ferals scrambled back, trying to regroup, their formation shattered.
That was the cue for the Hammer.
From behind the large boulders at the canyon entrance, a roar shattered the air—a sound so loud it physically rattled Elara's teeth on the ridge.
**"FOR THE PRIDE!"**
Alpha Kaelen launched himself into the fray. He wasn't hiding anymore. He was a golden thunderbolt of pure kinetic energy. He hit the Feral flank with the force of a freight train, his claws tearing through their crude lizard-armor like wet paper.
His Lions followed, a wave of golden fury crashing into the confused, trapped Ferals.
"Signal Zev!" Elara shouted to her guards, though she did it herself. **Air Support.**
Zev dropped from the sky. He didn't dive-bomb randomly this time. He and his Griffin warriors swept low in a precise V-formation, using their talons to snatch the Ferals who were trying to climb the canyon walls to escape Kaelen's fury. They picked them up and dropped them back into the center of the chaos, effectively keeping the enemy contained in the kill box.
It was brutal. It was violent. But more than that—it was *beautifully organized*.
The Wolf trapped them. The Lion crushed them. The Griffin contained them.
Elara watched through her crude binoculars (two polished crystals inside a leather tube), her mouth slightly open.
"It worked," she whispered. "My god, it actually worked."
### The Alpha Error
The battle was nearly won when the inevitability of biology kicked in.
Kaelen, high on battle-lust and the success of the ambush, found himself face-to-face with the Feral leader—a massive, scarred beast wearing a helmet made from a Wolf skull.
Instead of finishing the kill quickly, Kaelen paused. He reared back, expanding his chest to let out a victory roar, a primal need to assert dominance over the Alpha of the enemy pack.
*Don't do it, you vain rug,* Elara thought desperately. *Finish him!*
The split-second pause for theatrics was a mistake. The Feral leader, desperate and vicious, pulled a hidden, jagged blade from its belt and lunged upward, aiming for the unarmored spot under Kaelen's raised arm.
"**KAELEN! LEFT!**"
The scream didn't come from Elara. It came from **Roric**.
The Wolf Alpha, who was busy gutting a Feral near the canyon wall, saw the move. He didn't shout a warning; he threw his spear.
The spear whistled through the air, passing inches from Kaelen's ear, and slammed into the Feral leader's shoulder, throwing his aim off by inches. The jagged blade missed Kaelen's heart and instead grazed his ribs, drawing a line of blood but leaving him alive.
Kaelen, snapped out of his glory-daze by the spear flying past his face, looked down, saw the blade, and instantly decapitated the Feral leader with a single, furious swipe.
The Feral leader fell. The remaining beasts, seeing their Alpha dead and their escape cut off by the Griffins, threw down their weapons in surrender.
### The Post-Game Analysis
Silence returned to the Serpent's Gulch, save for the heavy panting of the victors.
Elara scrambled down the ridge path, her medical bag slamming against her hip. By the time she reached the canyon floor, the three Alphas were standing in a circle near the fallen Feral leader.
Kaelen was bleeding from his side, chest heaving, adrenaline still radiating off him in waves. Roric was retrieving his spear from the corpse, his expression unreadable. Zev had landed and was preening dust off his wings, looking smug.
Elara stormed right up to Kaelen and, without thinking, poked him hard in the chest.
"**You!**" she shouted, her voice echoing off the canyon walls. "What was that? *'Oh, look at me, I'm a Lion, let me pause mid-fight to scream at the sky!'* You almost got shish-kebabed!"
Kaelen blinked, looking down at the tiny, furious human. The battle-rage slowly faded, replaced by a sheepish look that didn't fit his bloodied face.
"I... was asserting dominance," he mumbled.
"You were asserting stupidity!" Elara snapped. She turned to Roric. "And you! Good throw. Excellent situational awareness. Ten points to House Wolf."
Roric smirked, a dangerous, attractive expression. "The Lion is easily distracted by his own reflection. Someone must watch the blind spots."
Kaelen bristled, his ego bruising. "I killed the leader! The victory is mine!"
"The victory is *ours*," Zev interjected, stepping forward. "My flight kept them in the pit. Without the Sky-Riders, they would have climbed out."
Elara held up her hands. "Stop. Right now. Look around you."
She gestured to the canyon floor. Thirty dead or captured Ferals. Zero casualties for the Alliance. A few minor scratches, but no deaths.
"Do you realize what just happened?" Elara asked, her voice softening. "You didn't just win. You wiped them out. And nobody died. That spear throw, Roric? That saved the Lion Alpha. That air-drop, Zev? That saved the Wolf flank. That charge, Kaelen? That broke their line so the others could work."
She looked at each of them, her gaze fierce and proud.
"This is what you are capable of when you stop measuring your... *tails*... and start using your brains. You are the terrifying trinity of Aetheria. And honestly? It was kind of hot."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Kaelen's golden eyes dilated. Roric's silver gaze darkened. Zev's wings flared slightly.
*Wait. Did I just say that out loud?* Elara froze. *Note to self: Adrenaline makes you say stupid things.*
"Hot?" Kaelen rumbled, stepping closer, ignoring his bleeding rib. "You find the Lion's violence... pleasing?"
"I find the *competence* pleasing," Elara corrected quickly, flushing red. "And the survival. Survival is very sexy to a doctor. Now, sit down, Kaelen. I need to stitch that scratch before you bleed on your victory parade."
As she opened her bag, Roric leaned in, his voice a low, teasing whisper in her ear. "Competence is sexy? I shall keep that in mind, Weaver. I have many competencies you have yet to discover."
Zev laughed, hopping closer. "And I have excellent rhythm! Did you see my signals? Dash-Dot-Dash! I was perfect!"
Elara groaned, pulling out a needle. "Yes, Zev. You were a very good flashlight. Now, everyone shut up and let me work. We have a war to win."
But as she stitched Kaelen's side, feeling the steady, powerful thrum of his heart beneath her hand, and feeling the heavy, protective gazes of the Wolf and the Griffin on her back, Elara realized two things:
1. The Alliance was real.
2. She was in very, very deep trouble with three very different, very dangerous, and apparently very "competent" men.