Even now, as the moment slipped into memory, Eris could scarcely believe it had happened.
Jag's presence brushed the edge of his mind again—no longer sharp, no longer probing. Just there: brief, approving, tired.
We hunt our lands, the sense had carried.
You hunt yours.
A shared path, a shared hunger—if we choose it.
No hunger between us.
The meaning settled into him slowly, like an unexpected warmth. An understanding forged not by words or blood alone, but by survival.
The meaning had settled into him slowly, like a warmth he hadn't expected to feel. An understanding forged not by words or blood alone, but by survival.
Around him, the others wore the same disbelief in quieter ways. Barik kept glancing toward the pack, as if expecting the wolves to attack at any moment. Kaylah stood with her hands still, breath shallow, as though any sudden movement might shatter the fragile truce that now hung in the cold air. Even the hardened hunters spoke in lowered voices, awe and caution braided together, their usual gruff tones softened by the impossible sight before them.
An alliance… with wolves. The words felt surreal, a whispered promise that seemed to echo off the stone walls and the distant howl of a lone wolf. Eris exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment settle into his chest, grounding himself in the present. He let the cool breath fill his lungs, the scent of pine and damp earth anchoring him to the here and now, and allowed a faint, steady smile to surface, an acknowledgment that, for the first time in a long while, the future might hold something other than endless conflict.
The pack had eaten their fill and withdrawn, bellies no longer hollow, eyes no longer desperate. The moment of stillness passed, and the cavern fell into a low, uneasy hush.
Barik stared at the submissive wolves, and then at the massive glass-back carcass in the rear of the cave. He swallowed hard. It was a humiliating tax, but an undeniable necessity. An alliance with a compliant wolf pack was better than a continued siege.
With the uneasy truce now settled, Barik clapped his hands once, sharp and commanding.
Blades were drawn, the metal catching the faint firelight. The massive carcass of the glass‑back loomed before them, a silent trophy of the night's bargain.
The work began.
From the back of the group, Renzo whispered, voice trembling, "What the hell just happened? Did we win?"
Tonovan slumped against the wall, his shoulders shaking as if the weight of the world had settled onto him. Renzo let out a shaky laugh that died almost immediately, the sound swallowed by the cavern's echo. Even the seasoned hunters stared, caught between relief and bewilderment, their usual stoic masks slipping for a heartbeat.
Eris staggered, bracing a palm against the cold stone as the remnants of the mind‑strike throbbed behind his eyes. Kaylah steadied him with a firm hand on his shoulder, her fingers warm against the chill that had seeped into his bones.
She kept her hand on his arm, feeling the faint tremor under his skin. "You okay?" she asked, voice low.
He forced a breath, the air tasting of pine and blood. "It's over," he said, the words feeling both a promise and a plea. The echo of his own voice seemed to settle the restless spirits around them, and for a brief, fragile instant, the cavern felt less like a battlefield and more like a place where two worlds might coexist.
***
As the hunters worked on the glass-back, the massive, broken form of the former Alpha lay nearby, his silver-black fur matted with frozen blood. He was a mountain of muscle now stilled, a reminder of the narrow margin between victory and death.
Cugat approached the dead wolf, his skinning knife drawn. "Barik, this pelt… it's thick enough to shield a commander. The silver-weave in his fur is rare."
Before Barik could answer, a low, vibrating growl rolled out from the darkness of the cave. Jag stepped into the dim light, her eyes fixed on the body of her fallen tormentor.
The hunters froze. Eris felt a sharp, cold image flash into his mind: A mountain peak, a lonely wind, and earth that does not forget.
"Wait," Eris called out, his voice cracking the tension. "She says no."
He looked at Jag, then back to the men. "He was a tyrant, but he was their blood. To skin him like a common beast is an insult the pack won't bear. It would break the truce before the meat is even cold."
Jag stepped closer to the dead Alpha. She did not snarl. Instead, she leaned down and nudged his cold shoulder with her snout, a final, somber acknowledgment of the strength he once held. She looked at Barik, then nudged the body toward the deep crevice at the edge of the gorge.
"She wants him given to the heights," Eris translated, his voice hushed. "A sky burial. She's asking us to help move him."
Barik looked at the magnificent pelt, then at the watchful eyes of the pack. He knew the value of the fur, but he knew the value of Jag's trust more.
"Cugat, put the knife away," Barik commanded. "Joeren, Renzo, grab the haunches. We're moving him to the ledge."
It took four strong men to haul the massive wolf to the precipice. With a collective heave, they sent the former Alpha into the mist of the gorge. Jag stood at the edge, her head held high, letting out a single, long howl that was joined by the rest of the pack. It wasn't a cry of mourning, but a signal of a closed chapter.
When the silence returned, Jag looked at the humans with a newfound gravity. The debt of the burial was added to the debt of her life.
"Now," Barik grunted, wiping sweat from his brow. "Let's finish the glass-back. We've honored the dead, now we feed the living."
***
The hunters fell into a rhythm, knives flashing as they sliced through hide and bone, the glass‑back's massive carcass yielding to practiced cuts. Steam rose in thin wisps, mingling with the scent of pine and fresh blood.
Kaylah stepped forward, wiping her hands on the rough fabric of her trousers. "Barik, leave the back‑strap sinew," she said, pointing to the thick, gleaming tendon that ran along the beast's spine. "The long one. I can use it for bowstrings."
Barik raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "That thing? Strong enough?"
A faint smile tugged at Kaylah's lips. "I think it's stronger than anything we could twist in Haven. And you know I make the best bows." She gave a small, proud nod. "You said so yourself."
Barik chuckled, the sound low and relieved. "Then it's yours. Just… try not to break it on the first shot."
Around them, the hunters laughed softly, the tension finally loosening. Even Renzo, still shaking, managed a weak grin as he watched the sinew being set aside. The work continued, each cut a small affirmation that the night's bargain was holding—an alliance of flesh and fur, bound by need and the promise of a shared future.
The hunters fell into a practiced rhythm, knives flashing as they sliced through hide and bone, the glass‑back's massive carcass yielding to steel. Steam rose in thin wisps, mingling with the scent of pine, blood, and the faint metallic tang of the beast's silver‑infused tendons. Carts waited at the cave mouth, their wooden wheels creaking under the weight of the soon‑to‑be‑loaded meat.
Kaylah moved with quiet purpose. She crouched beside the spine, the firelight catching the sheen of the exposed sinew. Her fingers, already slick with crimson, slipped beneath the thick, pale backstrap that ran like a ribbon along the creature's backbone. With deft, practiced cuts, she peeled the tendon away, the silver‑infused fibers emerging slowly, glistening like wet rope.
She held the long strand up, the light catching its inner glow. "These are beautiful," she whispered, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Strong as tempered wire." She turned the tendon over, testing its give. "This will make the strongest bowstrings Haven's ever seen."
You see this, Eris? This is bowstring material, maybe even better than horn-twist."
Eris, still rubbing the throbbing ache from his temples, blinked at the sight. "That flexible?"
Kaylah stretched the strip, the fibers humming under the tension. "Flexible, and it doesn't fray. Dry it well, twist it right… it will even hold against a warbow."
Barik snorted, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "Let her dream. Just don't let her test it on me."
Kaylah smirked, tucking the sinew carefully into her pack. "Don't worry, I'll keep it safe… for now." She slipped the tendon into a leather pouch, already picturing the sleek curve of a new bow, the snap of a perfectly drawn string.
Around them, the men continued their work, the clink of knives and the low murmur of conversation filling the cavern. The tension that had knotted their shoulders began to loosen, replaced by a tentative hope. The alliance forged in blood and hunger now had a tangible promise—a strand of silver‑infused tendon that might one day bend the very fate of Haven.
The cave's air, once heavy with threat, now hung thick with the metallic tang of fresh meat and the faint, coppery scent of blood. Yet the hostility had drained away, replaced by a strange, cautious productivity. The hunters moved with practiced efficiency, hauling the remaining slabs of glass‑back onto the waiting carts while the wounded were tended to with quick, practiced hands. Outside, the pack, bellies full and eyes no longer frantic, stood in silent watch, their leader Jag a steady presence at the edge of the firelight.
Barik sheathed his blade with a soft clang, the sound echoing off the stone. "Alright," he called, wiping the blade on his thigh, "let's finish loading what's left of the carcass. We head back before darkness decides it wants a say."
***
The cavern's air was thick with the scent of raw meat and blood, but the hostility had drained away, replaced by a strange, cautious productivity. Hunters moved with practiced efficiency, hauling the remaining slabs of glass‑back onto the waiting carts while the wounded were tended with quick, practiced hands.
Kaylah slipped through the bustle, her boots silent on the stone. She stopped before Jag, whose flank still bled sluggishly from the Alpha's bite.
"You held your ground," Kaylah murmured, palms already glowing with a soft, silver‑green light. "Now let me help you keep it."
She pressed her hands firmly to the torn flesh. The light pulsed, sealing the worst of the deep lacerations. Jag let out a quiet sigh, her golden eyes never leaving Kaylah's. The gesture, aid offered after the battle was won, deepened the Alpha's trust, turning a simple transaction into something far more binding.
Silver sparkles, harmless this time, danced across fur and skin. The wound knit slowly but surely, and Jag gave a soft, grateful rumble. The other wolves hesitated, wary but curious, as Kaylah moved among them, touching wounds, mending bites and gashes. Their bodies stiffened at first, unused to gentleness, but each shimmer of healing soothed rather than harmed, and they began to relax, some even leaning into her hand.
Barik watched from a short distance, his eyes flicking between the wolves and Kaylah. He gave a curt nod, a silent approval that encouraged her to continue.
Eris stood a little apart, pride softening his gaze as he observed the scene. When Kaylah finally rose, swaying slightly from the effort, he was there, catching her elbow.
"You pushed too hard," he murmured, concern threading his voice.
"I'm fine," she replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Mostly."
The hunters exchanged weary but hopeful glances. The truce held, the mission was complete, and the path home lay ahead, still fraught with danger, but now backed by an alliance forged in blood, hunger, and the quiet miracle of healing.
***
And then chaos hit… in the form of two small, fuzzy missiles.
The two cubs, now full and safe, bounced off the walls of the cave, their earlier terror forgotten. They trotted up to the hunters, their small, muddy paws batting playfully at the tips of the spears that were now thankfully lowered.
One cub, emboldened, managed to snatch a discarded piece of silver-striped sinew and began an energetic game of tug-of-war with a bewildered Boris, who couldn't help but laugh as the tiny wolf pulled with shocking strength. The other cub decided Joeren's discarded helmet was a wonderful new chew toy, batting it across the stone floor with clumsy glee.
The cubs then barreled toward Cugat, tripping over each other, tumbling across the dirt in a blur of paws and squeaks.
"Hey—HEY! No biting that!" He yelped as one latched playfully onto the tassel of his glove and tugged with all its tiny might.
Joeren burst out laughing. "I think they want to spar with you."
"They're cheating! There are two of them!" Cugat protested, backing up awkwardly as the second cub clung to his boot, growling ferociously despite its entire body fitting inside a saddlebag.
The hunters laughed, actual, honest laughter, the sound echoing across the clearing like something long forgotten.
One cub suddenly leapt onto Tonovan's lap, knocking him backward.
The man froze in terror for one heartbeat...
Then the cub licked his chin with enormous enthusiasm.
Tonovan screeched, scrambling up. "It's trying to EAT me!"
"No," Eris said dryly, scooping up the cub and depositing it gently into Kaylah's arms, "it's trying to clean you. Honestly, that might be worse."
The cub yipped indignantly and squirmed, demanding to be let down.
Meanwhile, Jag watched her pups with a mix of sternness and fond resignation, the universal look of a mother who knows her children are tiny disasters but loves them anyway.
The pack, seeing the cubs welcomed so freely, eased further. A few wolves settled near the humans, resting at a cautious but comfortable distance.
The air, once tense, heavy, ready for blood, lifted into something tentative but warm.
Something new.
Barik wiped his blade on his sleeve and looked out over the humans and wolves mingling together.
The cubs, now free from hunger's edge, tumbled into the scene. One pounced on a hunter's boot, yipping as the man laughed and scratched behind its ears. The other rolled onto its back, kicking its legs in the air as Kaylah ruffled its fur.
"They're not so different from our young ones," one hunter chuckled.
Jag's ears twitched, but she didn't stop them.
For the first time in years, the wolves didn't lurk in the shadows.
They played in the light.
The sight of the cubs weaving between the relieved, laughing humans, a joyous spectacle of life winning out over death, finally broke the last vestiges of fear. For a brief, shared moment, the men of Haven and the pack of Jag saw themselves not as enemies, but as fellow survivors.
The truce was sealed, not by a handshake, but by laughter and the carefree antics of two small wolves.
This is a moment where the complexity of the human-wolf alliance can be tested and defined. Jag's reaction needs to reflect her status as a predator, her new role as Alpha, and her begrudging debt to Eris.
Eris turned once more toward Jag.
The new Alpha inclined her head.
Then the pack melted into the trees, still wild, still dangerous, but no longer enemies.
Barik gaze moved from Jag to Eris, then to the submissive pack. He had seen the way the old Alpha died; it was not from a simple bite.
Only he realized Eris had done something impossible.
Barik stepped forward, studying the boy with an expression that was not fear, not shock, but a heavy, knowing acceptance.
"You saved us, Eris," Barik said quietly, his eyes cold with suspicion. "But every gift has a tax. You owe me the full truth of what you just did—the elders will ask, and everyone here knows you're the one who brokered the peace between the pack and us."
"And this is not the first time you'd used that power of yours."
Eris didn't answer. He was too busy staring at his hands.
The silver in his veins burned.
"Eris," Barik said, his voice flat, his relief overshadowed by profound suspicion. "What exactly is your power?"
"I don't know, Barik," Eris stammered, "but Elder Ruvio… he knows."
Eris didn't add anymore; he just couldn't. He really doesn't know anything about his power. They had survived the siege, but the true danger, the price of his power, and the strange new alliance had only just begun.
The pack, seeing the cubs welcomed so freely, eased further. A few wolves settled near the humans, resting at a cautious but comfortable distance.
The air—once tense, heavy, ready for blood—lifted into something tentative but warm.
Something new.
Barik wiped his blade on his sleeve and looked out over the humans and wolves mingled together.
"Alright," he called out, "enough play. Once that carcass is loaded, we head back."
But even as he spoke, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
For one peaceful sliver of morning, humans and wolves shared more than a battlefield.
They shared relief.
They shared safety.
They shared a future, still fragile, but suddenly possible.
***