Echoes Of War

CHAPTER XIII | DROWNING

A piercing ring whistles in his ears, slicing through the chaos until everything else becomes muffled. The roar of the river. The crack of the log as it vanished into the current. Lunis' desperate cry as her head slipped beneath the surface—gone, swallowed whole.

All of it collapses into nothing but a broken jumble of noise, drowned out by the relentless drum of his own heartbeat. Each thud is a hammer strike, deafening, frantic.

His lungs seize, refusing to breathe.

Where is she?

His gaze darts frantically over the river's heaving waves, every shadow, every ripple twisting into a cruel mirage. His chest constricts tighter with each passing heartbeat, fear clawing deeper and deeper into his ribs.

"LUNIS!" His voice shreds the air, raw and desperate, but the she-wolf does not answer. Only white water and foam, mocking him with silence.

He spins, paws tearing at the muddy bank, pacing up, then down, then back again—heart clawing against his ribs like a trapped beast. His breath comes ragged, too loud in his ears, deafening against the relentless roar of the river.

His gaze scours the surface with frantic precision, darting over every ripple, every jagged rock, every shadow caught in the moon's reflection. He searches for anything—anything—a flicker of pale fur, the arc of a muzzle, the faintest splash that could mean she's still there.

But there is nothing.

No flash. No shape. No sound.

Just emptiness.

The weight of it slams into him, crushing, suffocating. His chest heaves, but no air fills his lungs. A growl tears from his throat, broken and desperate, the fury in it born not of anger but of terror.

"LUNIS!"

Her name rips from him again, ragged and raw, cast into the night only to be swallowed by the river's merciless roar.

A prayer tears through his mind—half-begging, half-command. Falla, don't take her. Not her. Not like this.

At last, the river's surface shatters—two wolves erupt from the frothing depths, maws wide as they drag in precious air. Blaze surges forward, water splashing high around his legs as he races to the bank, his amber eyes locking instantly onto Rodwen.

The Beta fights like a storm-tossed oak, muscles straining against the torrent as it claws at him, each stroke a battle to keep his head above the water. Just beyond him, the silvery rogue thrashes wildly before lurching free, scrambling onto the far bank with a desperate, mud-slicked leap. He collapses there, out of reach, sides heaving.

""Rodwen! Over here!" Blaze's ears twitch to Ishka's voice, cutting clean through the roar.

The russet male jerks his ears, gasping, veering toward the sound. His breaths come ragged, foam and spray clinging to his jaws as the current drags at him like claws hooked into his fur. Inch by inch, he fights forward, eyes burning with strain.

Without hesitation, Ishka plunges into the lapping waves, her claws scraping mud as she lunges for him. She clamps hard onto his scruff and, with a powerful heave, hauls him into the safety of dry land.

"Are you okay?" she presses, fur brushing desperately against his, trying to share every shred of warmth.

Rodwen hacks violently, water pouring in bursts from his throat. His chest heaves, shuddering as he forces the words out, voice hoarse, raw.

"I'll... live." His eyes snap up, darting wildly across the river, searching. "Lunis—I couldn't find her. The current's too strong—" Another wracking cough cuts him off, his body trembling with the effort.