Chapter nine- Aftermath what Remains
The fires were kept low on purpose.
Too much light meant visibility. Too much smoke meant attention. The elders had ordered the flames fed slowly, carefully, until the clearing sat in a dim half-glow that blurred the edges of bodies and trees alike.
The battle had ended, but the night had not released them.
Wolves lay scattered across the clearing, massive forms stretched along roots and stones. Some slept with one eye open. Others lay still but awake, chests rising slow and steady, ears turning at every unfamiliar sound. Blood had darkened patches of fur where wounds had been cleaned but not yet healed.
No one complained.
Pain was endured quietly here.
Riders moved among them, refilling water skins, retying bindings, murmuring reassurances that were more for themselves than for the wolves. A young boy knelt beside his transformed sister, pressing his forehead to hers as she breathed through the ache in her flank. She nudged him gently with her nose, steadying him.
Ava stood near her parents.
Amelia lay on her side, one powerful leg stretched stiffly, her breathing even but heavy. The gash along her ribs had been treated, but the fur around it remained dark and clotted. Ava brushed her fingers through the thick gray coat again and again, grounding herself in the warmth.
Noah had not rested.
He sat upright beside Amelia, broad back straight, eyes fixed on the tree line. Every so often his ears flattened, then lifted again, tracking sounds Ava could not hear. When another wolf shifted nearby, Noah's head turned instantly.
He was not watching the forest alone.
He was guarding his family.
Ava had never doubted that before. But seeing it now feeling it made her chest ache.
Charlotte returned with a bundle of clean cloth and crouched beside them. Her movements were efficient, practiced. There was blood on her hands that had not been hers, and her dress was torn near the hem, but her face remained calm.
"They're rotating patrols," Charlotte murmured to Ava. "Two wolves per path. Riders on the outer ridge."
Ava nodded. "The elders?"
Charlotte glanced toward the old tree.
They were gathered close, voices low but sharp. The chief stood with his hands folded behind his back, listening more than speaking. Around him, other elders gestured subtly, tension evident in the tightness of shoulders and clipped movements.
The wolves in the council were not resting.
They sat tall, bodies angled inward, eyes fixed on the speakers. When an elder gestured toward the forest with too much emphasis, one wolf growled not loud, but enough to halt the motion.
Amelia lifted her head at the sound.
She did not rise, but her gaze locked onto the council. Noah followed her attention immediately, his body angling slightly, ready.
Ava felt a chill.
They were not arguing about what had happened.
They were arguing about what came next.
"They crossed marked ground," an elder hissed. "That means they were either careless or testing us."
Another shook his head. "Or desperate."
A wolf struck the earth with its paw, hard enough to send dirt scattering.
Desperate packs did not set traps.
Testing packs did.
Ava looked away.
The tribe was not celebrating survival. Survival was assumed. What mattered now was whether it would be allowed again.
The night dragged on.
No one sang. No children laughed. Even the forest seemed quieter than usual, as if it too was listening.
Ava stayed where she was until her legs ached.
Only when Charlotte squeezed her shoulder and nodded toward the far fire did Ava turn.
Liam.
Liam lay propped against folded cloaks near the edge of the clearing, far enough from the main fire to keep the light from stinging his eyes. His shirt was gone, replaced by tight bandages wrapped across his ribs and shoulder. Each breath he took was careful, measured.
Mateo crouched beside him, hands stained with dried blood and crushed herbs.
"Don't move," Mateo muttered.
"I'm not," Liam replied, jaw clenched.
Mateo tightened the last binding and leaned back, exhaling. His face held tension he hadn't allowed himself to show during the fight.
"You should've pulled back sooner," Mateo said quietly.
Liam's mouth twitched. "And let you take it alone?"
Mateo didn't answer.
Ava approached slowly.
Liam noticed her immediately. His expression shifted not relief, not joy. Something closer to guilt.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
Ava lowered herself beside him anyway. "Neither should you."
He huffed a breath that turned into a grimace. "Fair."
For a while, they sat in silence.
The fire crackled. Somewhere, a wolf shifted and settled again. Mateo stood and stepped away, giving them space but not leaving entirely.
"I froze," Liam said suddenly.
Ava looked at him. "You didn't."
"I did," he insisted. "For a second. Just one. But it was enough."
She said nothing.
"I've never done that before," he continued, voice low. "Never hesitated."
Ava felt something inside her twist. "You're allowed to be human."
"That's the problem," he replied. "Out there, being human gets people hurt."
His fingers flexed at his side, frustrated. "I trained my whole life to protect this place. To protect you."
Ava swallowed. "You don't have to protect me alone."
Liam finally turned to her. "That's exactly what scares me."
She waited.
"I don't want this world to take you," he said. "Not like it took them."
He didn't need to say who.
Ava looked toward the shadows where her parents rested.
"They're still here," she said.
"Yes," Liam agreed softly. "But not the way they should be."
The silence deepened.
When Ava spoke again, her voice was steady. "When you heal, I want you to train me."
He reacted instantly.
"No."
She didn't flinch.
"No," he repeated, sharper this time. "I won't put that weight on you."
"This isn't about you," she said.
"It is," he snapped then winced, pain flaring. He breathed through it. "It is if I'm the one who teaches you how to bleed."
"I'm already bleeding," Ava said quietly. "Just not where you can see it."
That stopped him.
"I watched you fall," she continued. "I watched my parents fight like monsters to keep us alive. I watched wolves suffer because I couldn't do anything."
Her hands clenched in her lap. "I won't be that person again."
"You don't understand what training means," Liam said. "It changes you."
"I know," Ava replied. "That's the point."
He studied her face the fear still there, but buried beneath resolve.
"You're not asking," he said.
"No," she agreed. "I'm telling you."
A long moment passed.
Finally, Liam exhaled slowly. "When I heal," he said, reluctant, "we'll start slow."
Ava nodded once. "That's all I want."
He looked away. "I won't go easy on you."
She almost smiled. Almost.
Beyond the fire, Amelia watched them.
And for the first time that night, she lowered her head not in rest, but in acceptance.