Echoes Of War

CHAPTER IX | FANGS WRAPPED IN SILVER FUR

A piercing howl tears Lunis from the depths of sleep.

Her body jolts upright, muscles locking as every sense flares to life. Her gaze darts through the dim clearing, but for a breath, she wonders if it was only a phantom cry, some cruel fragment of a dream—until it hits her.

The scent.

Sharp, metallic, undeniable. Blood.

Her ears twitch back instinctively as she rises, every movement slow, deliberate, the air around her thick with foreboding. Nearby, Blaze stirs, the tip of his ear flicking before his nose twitches, catching the same scent.

Their eyes meet through the shadows—amber locking with ice-blue—his still hazy with sleep, yet wide now, sharp with the same realization settling like stone in her chest.

Lunis bolts forward, ears pinned, the air in the den thickening with each stride. She plunges into the narrow mouth of the tunnel, the stench of blood pulling her deeper until the earthen walls close in around her. In only a few heartbeats, she's upon the source—nearly colliding muzzle-first with Silver's bristling form as the old male backs away.

A low, warning growl simmers in his throat, his fur spiked, eyes glinting with a mix of pain and agitation. Lunis skirts around him, the pungent tang of fear thick enough to cling to her tongue.

Then she sees it.

Movement flickers at the far end of the chamber—a pale shape pressed hard against the wall, sky-blue eyes wide and unblinking, lips peeled back in a trembling snarl. The rogue. Awake.

Fresh blood glistens across her fangs, and Lunis' gaze flicks briefly to Silver's muzzle—marked with a fresh, angry bite.

In the same instant, the rogue's eyes lock onto hers, wild and desperate. Her voice bursts through the den in a raw, trembling howl, snapping her gaze back to the old Teta.

"Don't touch her!"

She curls tighter around the small scrap of fur pressed to her chest, and only then does Lunis register the truth—her pup, cradled protectively beneath the rogue's chin. The mother's whole body trembles, a wall of fury and fear wrapped in silver fur.

Pressing forward, Lunis steps up beside Silver, her own fur bristling with a mirrored fury.

The old male's growl is low, steady, though the faint tremor of pain edges his tone. "Don't make any sudden moves, Lunis," he rasps, the wound on his snout still raw and stinging. "She's merely protecting her pup."

Lunis forces her snarl to soften, fighting the primal urge to lunge at the rogue for daring to spill her packmate's blood. "I won't," she concedes, her voice tight but controlled. "But I'm not leaving you alone with her either."

Silver gives a brief nod before shifting his attention back to the rogue, his steps slow, deliberate, the gravel in his voice smoothing into something almost gentle.

Lunis holds her ground, gaze locked on the silver she-wolf. The rogue's eyes are wide, their icy blue depths glowing with a volatile mix of fear and defiance. Her growl deepens with every heartbeat, the sound rumbling through the enclosed den like distant thunder.

Lunis' muscles remain taut, ready to spring at the first sign that this standoff might tip into chaos. She understands the instinct—the desperate, all-consuming drive to protect what's hers. But understanding doesn't mean she'll lower her guard. After all, a cornered wolf is the most dangerous of all—more so is a mother protecting her pup. And this one has already proven she's willing to draw blood.

Silver takes another step forward, the scrape of his claws against the packed earth sounding louder in the tense quiet. The rogue's ears flick back, her body coiling tighter around the pup.