Selene
The rustle outside the tent had my heart slamming against my ribs, the afterglow of Draven's touch snuffed out by the sharp edge of danger. I scrambled for my leathers, yanking them on as Draven grabbed his dagger, ready to strike. The footsteps stopped, followed by a low, ragged cough – the sound too human to be a rogue. Draven's eyes met mine, raising a single brow in question, and he gestured for me to stay low. He crept to the tent flap, knife glinting in the lantern's dim glow, and pulled it aside.
"Show yourself," he growled, his voice carrying that fearless command that made the air hum.
A figure stumbled into view, hands raised, chains dangling from bruised wrists. He was gaunt, his dark hair matted with dirt, but his eyes held a spark of defiance despite his weakened state.
"Easy, brother," he rasped, voice rough from disuse. "It's just me."
Draven lowered his knife. "Torren? Gods, how'd you get here?"
I froze, the name sounding familiar. Torren was the name of Draven's spy that had been captured during Kaelen's ambush, the one he'd mentioned with that guarded edge. Brother?
His face, angular and worn, felt familiar, stirring a gnaw in my gut I couldn't quite place. I'd seen him before, but where?
Torren sagged against the tent pole, his breath uneven. "I was among the captives being transferred to the Red Cliffs when you lot arrived. Your Luna's arrow took out the guard holding my chain and I ran like hell. Took a beating getting here, though." His gaze flicked to me, sharp and assessing, then back to Draven. "We need to talk. Now."
Draven sheathed his dagger, helping Torren inside. I followed, pulling my shirt tighter, the memory of Draven's hands still warm on my skin. The bond was quiet for once, no echo of Kaelen's malice, but Torren's presence set my nerves on edge. Something about him felt like a puzzle piece I couldn't place.
"Elara!" Draven called, his voice carrying to the campfire outside. The healer ducked in moments later, her pouches clinking as she knelt beside Torren. "He's hurt. Can you work your magic?"
Elara's hands moved swiftly, inspecting the cuts and bruises marring Torren's arms. "These are deep, but luckily, I can't sense any curse lingers here." she murmured, her fingers glowing faintly as she applied a salve. "A few herbs and ointments will help, but he needs rest. The Goddess's favor doesn't heal exhaustion."
Torren winced but managed a crooked grin. "Always the lecture, Elara. Just try to keep me breathing long enough to talk my way into your heart." Then he winked.
She tsked, tying off a bandage. "You and your brother are both too stubborn for your own good."
I caught the word again – brother. Draven hadn't mentioned that. His secrecy, that guarded wall he kept up even with me, stung more than I wanted to admit. After last night, after he'd bared his curse to me, I'd thought we were past that. Apparently not.
"Half-brother," Draven said, as if reading my thoughts, his voice low as he met my eyes. "Same father, different mothers. Kept it quiet to protect him – Bloodfang would've targeted him to get to me."
Torren nodded, his expression grim. "Kaelen's got eyes everywhere. I hear he's now allied with a neutral pack that's hostile to Shadowfang, but I couldn't catch a name. They're supplying him with fighters, weapons, maybe more. He's planning something big at the Red Cliffs."
The gnaw in my stomach deepened, Torren's face tugging at a memory I couldn't grasp. A raid, a fight, blood in the snow... but it slipped away, drowned by the urgency of his words.
"Dorian," I said, leaning forward. "Did you see him? A young boy with red hair, about five years old?"
Torren's eyes softened, but he shook his head. "No kids like that in the cells I was in. But Kaelen's got the Cliffs locked down – wards, traps, the works. He knows you're coming."
Draven's jaw tightened, but he clapped Torren's shoulder. "Have some rest. We'll plan at camp. You're safe now."
Elara finished her work, handing Torren a small vial. "Drink this. It'll strengthen your bones a little. But no heroics until dawn."
Torren grinned again. "I love it when you get all bossy like that."
Elara rolled her eyes, but just before she turned to leave, I saw a small smile tugging at the edges of her mouth.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As we stepped out into the camp, the others were already gathered around a small fire, the scent of roasted rabbit mingling with pine. Veyra tossed me a skewer, her nod warmer than before. "Eat, Luna. You look like you need it."
"What a sweet compliment." I said as I took it, settling on a log beside Renn, who was nursing his bandaged side.
Thorne sat across, sharpening his axe, his eyes darting to Torren as Draven helped him to the fire. I could tell there was a familiarity there, their glances quick but heavy with history. Torren caught Thorne's look and grinned, a spark of life returning to his pale face.
"I see you're just as ugly as I left you." he joked.
Thorne chuckled, tossing him a piece of meat. "Charming as always, I see. Surprised Kaelen didn't send your ass up to meet the Moon Goddess yet."
Torren barked out a laugh. "Oh, he sure tried. I told you I'm a lot harder to kill than that."
"Oh please. I've had to drag your sorry ass out of worse scraps than this. Remember the ridge fight?"
Torren laughed, the sound rough but genuine. "Yeah, but you lost your axe and I saved your hide by distracting that brute. You still owe me a drink for that one, by the way."
"After we gut Kaelen," Thorne promised, raising his water skin in a mock toast.
The group eased into stories, the fire's warmth softening the night's edge. Renn recounted a hunt gone wrong, where he'd tripped into a rogue's den and come out with a scar and a tale. Elara shared a quieter memory, her voice steady as she spoke of blessing herbs under a blood moon, earning the Goddess's favor through a night of fasting. Veyra, to my surprise, offered a gruff tale of her brother teaching her to track, her eyes growing distant but warm.
Draven slid onto the log beside me, his thigh brushing mine, and the heat from the memory of last night flared in my chest. He leaned close, voice low and teasing. "You're quiet, huntress. Saving your voice for another argument?"
I shot him a look, but a smile tugged at my lips. "Just eating. You should try it sometime. Maybe it'll keep that mouth of yours too busy to get you into any more trouble."
He grinned, stealing a bite from my skewer with a wink. "Can't help it. You make everything more... appetizing."
Veyra groaned from across the fire. "Urgh! Get a tent, you two."
The group laughed, and I let myself relax, the warmth of Draven's presence settling something in me. The bond still tugged slightly in my chest, but Draven's flirty grin, his fearless ease, felt like a counterweight. Maybe this new us could be something real. I leaned into him, resting leisurely on his chest, and his arm draped casually around my shoulders like it belonged there.
I looked up and saw Torren watching us, his eyes flickering with something I couldn't read. He caught my gaze once, holding it a beat too long, and that gnaw returned again, even sharper now. I'd seen him somewhere before, that much was sure. The memory wouldn't surface, but it still nagged like a far away itch I couldn't quite scratch.
Later, as the fire died and the others turned in, I found myself at the camp's edge, checking my quiver by moonlight. Torren approached, his steps slow, the bandages peeking from under his sleeve.
He stopped beside me, his voice soft but direct. "You don't remember me, do you?"
I stiffened, fingers pausing on an arrow. "Should I?"
He studied me, those familiar golden eyes piercing. "I saw you in Draven's tent that first night. I knew you looked familiar, but it took me until now to place it. But silly me, how could I forget those hauntingly beautiful eyes and flaming red hair?"
"If you've got something to say, spit it out or leave." I said in a sharp voice, as the gnaw in my chest began turning to dread. "I'm in no mood for riddles."
He glanced back at the camp, where Thorne was rolling out his bedroll, then lowered his voice. "Thorne and I have fought together for years, side by side with Draven. He's as close as family, maybe closer than I am to my brother sometimes. We were there for every battle... every raid." He paused, his gaze heavy. "Including the one where Bloodfang hit Shadowfang. The very one that took Draven's parents."
The dread solidified, a cold weight in my chest. The raid.
That's where I'd seen him. The memory came rushing to me all at once – blood on the snow, swords clashing, a young warrior with golden eyes blocking my path. I'd struck at him, our blades meeting in a shower of sparks, but he'd slipped away in the chaos.
"You were there," I whispered, the realization choking me. "I fought you... during the raid." My voice came out small despite myself. I couldn't breath through the panic.
Torren nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. Funny how the Goddess plays her games, don't you think? Draven's spent his entire life hunting and swearing revenge on those who killed his parents. And now here you are, in his very tent, as his Luna."