The mountains had grown colder.
Winter winds swept across the rocky ridges, carrying thin snow that clung to tree branches and dark stone. Kaelan Var pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he studied the narrow trail ahead.
Three weeks had passed since the ambush.
The rebels had not attacked again.
But Kaelan knew better than to believe they were gone.
Somewhere in these mountains, the rebel leader Maroth was watching.
Waiting.
Planning.
Sergeant Dren rode beside him, scanning the forest.
"The men are nervous," he said quietly.
Kaelan nodded.
"They should be."
Dren smirked slightly.
"You're honest, I'll give you that."
Kaelan glanced at the steep cliffs around them.
Fear kept soldiers alert.
Overconfidence killed them.
"How far to the last village?" Kaelan asked.
"Two hours," Dren replied.
"Small place. Mostly farmers."
Kaelan remembered the map Captain Ralen had given him.
A remote mountain settlement.
If rebels were hiding nearby, the villagers would know.
Or they would be forced to help them.
Either way, Kaelan intended to find out.
By midday they reached the village.
It was small—barely twenty wooden houses surrounded by frozen fields. Smoke rose slowly from chimneys as villagers worked quietly in the cold air.
When Kaelan's patrol entered the village, the farmers stopped what they were doing.
Fear spread quickly across their faces.
Imperial soldiers rarely visited these remote places unless something bad was about to happen.
Kaelan dismounted.
He kept his voice calm.
"We're looking for rebels."
The villagers exchanged nervous glances.
An elderly man stepped forward slowly.
"We are only farmers, commander."
Kaelan studied him carefully.
Weathered skin.
Calloused hands.
But his eyes held something else.
Caution.
"Rebels have been seen in these mountains," Kaelan said.
"We know nothing about that," the old man replied quickly.
Too quickly.
Kaelan looked around the village.
Tracks in the snow.
Boot prints that did not belong to farmers.
Many of them.
He crouched near the ground and touched one of the prints.
Fresh.
Very fresh.
Kaelan stood slowly.
"They were here last night."
The old man remained silent.
Dren stepped closer to Kaelan and whispered.
"They're hiding something."
Kaelan nodded slightly.
But he did not draw his sword.
Instead, he turned back to the villagers.
"We're not here to harm you," he said.
"But if rebels are using this village, they are putting you in danger."
Still silence.
Then a young boy suddenly ran forward.
"They took my brother!"
Everyone froze.
The old man shouted angrily.
"Silence!"
But it was too late.
Kaelan knelt beside the boy.
"Who took him?"
"Men with black cloaks," the boy said.
"Where?"
"Into the forest."
Dren looked at Kaelan.
"Maroth's scouts."
Kaelan stood.
Now he understood.
The rebels were forcing villagers to supply them.
Food.
Information.
Maybe even soldiers.
Kaelan turned back to the old man.
"You should have told us."
The old man's shoulders sagged.
"If we refuse them, they kill us."
Kaelan believed him.
This was the cruel nature of war.
Villagers trapped between two armies.
But Kaelan had what he needed now.
"Which direction did they go?"
The old man pointed toward a dense forest valley.
"Two hours east."
Kaelan mounted his horse.
"Form up," he ordered.
The hunt had begun.
The forest grew darker as the patrol moved deeper into the valley.
Snow covered the ground, but the rebels had not hidden their tracks well.
They were moving quickly.
Probably escorting prisoners.
Kaelan counted at least fifteen men.
Maybe more.
Dren rode closer.
"If Maroth is there…"
Kaelan nodded.
"We take him."
Dren smiled grimly.
"Or die trying."
They found the rebel group near sunset.
Smoke rose from a small camp hidden between tall pines.
Kaelan crouched behind a rock and studied the scene.
Seventeen rebels.
Two prisoners tied to a tree.
One of them was the boy's brother.
The other looked like a hunter.
But Maroth was not there.
Kaelan felt disappointment for a moment.
Then he pushed it away.
Every rebel destroyed weakened Maroth's forces.
Kaelan turned to his men.
"Quiet attack."
No horns.
No shouting.
Just blades in the dark.
The soldiers spread through the trees like shadows.
Then Kaelan gave the signal.
The attack was swift and brutal.
Rebels barely had time to react.
Two fell to arrows before they could stand.
Kaelan charged into the camp.
A rebel swordsman rushed him.
Their blades collided with a sharp clang.
The rebel was strong but reckless.
Kaelan sidestepped and struck him across the chest.
The man collapsed.
Nearby, Dren fought two rebels at once, roaring like a wild animal.
Within minutes the camp was silent.
The surviving rebels had fled into the forest.
Kaelan cut the prisoners free.
The young boy's brother stared at him in shock.
"You're… imperial soldiers?"
"Yes," Kaelan said.
The boy began crying with relief.
Kaelan helped him stand.
"You're safe now."
Night fell quickly in the mountains.
The patrol escorted the rescued prisoners back toward the village.
The men were tired but satisfied.
Another rebel group destroyed.
Another victory.
But Kaelan remained quiet.
Something bothered him.
Dren noticed.
"You're thinking about Maroth."
"Yes."
"He keeps avoiding us."
Kaelan looked up at the dark mountain peaks.
"No."
Dren frowned.
"No?"
"He's studying us."
Dren considered this.
Then he cursed softly.
"You think he's planning something bigger."
Kaelan nodded slowly.
"Today we hunted wolves."
He looked toward the endless mountains ahead.
"But the wolf king is still out there."
And when Maroth finally chose to strike…
It would not be a small raid.
It would be war.