It was some what perfect because Shadow had to navigate the tugboat to the Valley of Trey anyway. When Sous and Icarus had went to scope out the environment, they had come to see the little province was empty.
It was like everything had been abandoned by the elf community. Shadow steered the boat up the river. Sous and Shadow Jr. kept their eyes on the basilisk eggs in the back. Just likr when Sous was little, the barrels were dwindling down.
She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. Sous looked over at Icarus. He sat on the ground, his black wings folded in and his chest still bare.
"I don't understand why he can't put a shirt on," Shadow Jr. complained.
A sweat dropped appeared behind Sous' head. "You afraid he's gonna steal your little Omega mate?" Sous joked with the young Alpha.
"HA! I I wish he would."
Shadow Jr. leaned against the railing, her gaze fixed on the distant riverbank. Sous followed her look. Nothing moved among the skeletal trees lining the water.
Icarus shifted, stretching his wings slightly. The silence stretched with the river, thick and heavy. Shadow adjusted the tugboat's course, his movements precise and economical. He didn't glance back at the eggs, but his shoulders were tense.
Sous watched the water. It flowed past the hull, dark and sluggish, carrying dead leaves and the occasional piece of driftwood that looked disturbingly like bone.
The air smelled of damp earth and something else, something faintly sour beneath the river's scent. Rot, maybe. Or decayed magic. She rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled despite the humid air.
Shadow Jr. shifted beside her, her knuckles white where he gripped the railing. Her eyes darted from the empty shore to the covered barrels holding the basilisk eggs.
The silence wasn't peaceful; it was the held breath before a scream. Even the usual creak of the old tugboat seemed muffled, absorbed by the oppressive stillness of the valley.
Icarus remained motionless on the deck, a statue carved from shadow and moonlight, his bare skin gleaming faintly.
The absence of sound made every rustle of his feathers against the wood seem unnaturally loud.
Assassins from the Apex pack made their way through the cities and terrain doing their best to catch up to Sous. Instead of taking any mode of transportation, they thought it was best to transform into their werewolf form.
They managed to find out from a scout of the Apex pack that Sous was on a tugboat with Shadow, Shadow Jr. and a man with black featured wings. They were on their way to the Valley of Trey.
The assassins moved as shadows through the city's underbelly, paws silent on rain-slicked asphalt. Their fur bristled against the unnatural chill of streetlights.
One paused beneath a flickering neon sign, nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of saltwater, diesel fuel, and the faintest trace of Sous's adrenaline. The tugboat had docked hours ago at this little urban city. Now, only the river's oily sheen remained.
They slipped into the river, muscles coiling beneath fur as cold water swallowed them whole. No growls, no whimpers. Just the rhythmic pull of powerful limbs against the current. Moonlight fractured on the surface above, but down here, the world was muffled darkness and the taste of silt.
The strongest swam point, his yellow eyes slicing through the gloom like lanterns. He knew the Valley of Trey's treacherous currents waited downstream.
Hours bled into the night. Paws found purchase on slick, moss-covered rocks as they hauled themselves onto the riverbank deep within the valley's throat. Steam rose from their soaked coats in the frigid air.
The lead assassin shook himself violently, droplets flying like dark jewels. His gaze swept the towering canyon walls, jagged teeth of obsidian rock biting into a starless sky.
No scent of Sous yet. Only damp earth, ancient stone, and the metallic tang of distant lightning. He lowered his snout to the ground, inhaling deeply. Silence was their weapon now.
The pack moved as one shadow, flowing over the uneven terrain. Moonlight, when it pierced the heavy clouds, glinted off wet fur and watchful eyes. They avoided the worn game trails, sticking to crevices and the lee of boulders.
The valley hummed with a low, subsonic thrum, the river's power vibrating through the bedrock. It masked their movement but also drowned out subtle sounds. The point wolf paused, ears swiveling like radar dishes.
Ahead, a faint, rhythmic scraping. Stone on stone. Not natural. He flattened his body against a cold rock face, the others mirroring him instantly. Yellow eyes narrowed, pinpointing the source: a narrow ledge halfway up the sheer cliff opposite.
After a week, the tug boat dock at the Valley of Trey. They got off to unload the basilisk eggs while Shadow scanned out in the distance to see if anyone was coming.
Sous used her wand to take the barrels off, even Icarus helped as well. Shadow Jr. walked to her father and looked out as well.
"The clients aren't here," Shadow said, he turned to look at Sous and his daughter. He walked over to them, where they laid the barrels. "You said the whole place was empty, the entire area?"
Sous nodded her head along with Icarus.
"Tsk, these eggs mean a lot to them. For them to miss out on it, it is suspicious." Shadow turned to his daughter. "Junior, go close down the tug boat." While Shadow Jr. went to do as her father said, Sous and Icarus began to come up with a plan.
They decided they would go into the city and find a place to stay, see if they could managed to find anyone still around to get some answers.
Shadow Jr. ran to catch up with them and the four of them walked up the trail toward the city.
The city was quiet. Too quiet. The only sound was the crunch of their boots on the gravel path and the distant cry of a seabird. Shadow scanned the rooftops, his hand resting on the belt that carried his guns and rifles. Sous kept her wand low but ready, her knuckles white. Icarus moved with an unnatural stillness, his eyes darting into every shadowed alley they passed.
Shadow Jr. stayed close to her father, her large hand brushing against his coat sleeve every few steps, she was ready to protect her father whence the time came.
Windows stood dark and empty. Doors hung ajar, revealing glimpses of abandoned interiors—overturned chairs, scattered tools, half-eaten meals left to rot.
The air smelled of dust and salt, but underneath it, a faint, sour tang of decay lingered. Icarus paused beside a butcher's stall, its counter still piled with fly-covered meat. He didn't need to speak. The look he exchanged with Sous said everything: no one had fled in panic. They'd vanished mid-breath.