The hangover after a good fight is always the worst. Not from booze, but from the adrenaline crash that leaves you feeling hollowed out and buzzing. Ethan leaned against the cool, slick stone of the spring, letting the water numb his scraped hands. The crumbling stockade was quiet, almost peaceful in the thin morning light. A total lie. The air still tasted of smoke from Ember's firestorm, a sharp reminder of the violence they'd dealt out just hours ago.
Kael was a silver engine on low idle, sprawled on the damp earth with his eyes half-closed but his ears twitching at every sound. Ember, curled against the wolf's flank, was a cooling coal, his fiery tail giving off only the faintest glow. Lila sat nearby, methodically cleaning her bow, her movements weary but precise. Tariq just slumped against a wall, clutching his newly-made whistles like a rosary, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.
Ethan's mind wanted to shut down, to just savor the fact that they were all still breathing. But the 'what ifs' were already buzzing like flies. The warlord's main force was still out there. This win was just a delay, not a solution. His gaze drifted to Lila. She looked up, grime on her cheek, and offered a tired smile that cut right through the noise in his head. It was an anchor.
"We're still standing," he grunted, the words rough.
Lila shifted closer, her shoulder bumping his. She passed him a waterskin. "Barely. But your crazy plans seem to work, Carver."
"Team effort," he replied, nodding at Tariq. "You held your own out there."
The deserter managed a brittle, but real, grin. "Good to fight back," he rasped. "Better than running."
The morning eased into a rhythm of recovery. While Lila gently tended to a shallow gash on Kael's paw, Ethan took stock of their supplies. They were getting low on everything but grain. Tariq started testing his whistles, the sharp, piercing notes cutting through the Gloomwood's gloom. An idea sparked.
Ethan grabbed a stick, sketching in the dirt. "Signals," he said, pointing with the stick. "One short blast, enemy sighted. Two, fall back here. Three long blasts… all hell's broken loose."
Lila came over, wiping her hands. "Smart. Let's get them set up after we eat. My stomach is staging a rebellion."
The meal was a quiet affair, until Ember made a clumsy lunge for a piece of grain, sneezed, and shot a puff of soot and surprise into the fire.
"You're a fire hazard, you little monster," Lila laughed, tossing him a piece. The sound was so rare and real it made Ethan's chest ache. The moment of peace was a stolen treasure.
It didn't last. As they ate, Tariq started talking, his voice low. "At the warlord's camp… the men were getting restless after the first raid. Angry. This will make it worse. He'll have to hit us now, just to keep them in line."
The air grew heavy again. "We need to stay ahead of him," Ethan said, his hand finding the worn runes of his pendant.
Lila's hand covered his. "We will."
The afternoon was a blur of work. Ethan and Tariq moved through the trees, placing the whistles at key choke points. Back at the camp, Lila reinforced their snare lines. The quiet competence felt good, like they were building something real.
Then a whistle shrieked from the north. Kael's signal. One short, sharp blast.
Instantly, the peace shattered. Ethan's heart hammered against his ribs; adrenaline surged, hot and familiar. There was no time to think. Only to act. He grabbed his hatchet, the pendant flaring with a faint warmth against his skin. "Lila, up high. Now."
They crept to the northern rampart, peering through the dense foliage. A patrol, ten of them. Spears, leather armor, and bad intentions. They were moving cautiously, sniffing at the edges of their territory.
"Here," Ethan whispered, his mind a steel trap of angles and timing. "Ember, low fire, on my mark. Kael, draw them right. Lila, pick your shots."
She was already halfway up an ironwood, a shadow among shadows.
"Mark!"
A wave of contained fire rolled through the undergrowth, not to kill, but to panic. The patrol yelled, breaking formation. Kael, a silver blur, darted from the side, a distracting menace. It was all the opening Lila needed. The whisper of her bowstring, twice. Two men dropped without a sound. The others, spooked and suddenly outnumbered, broke and fled back into the mist. It was over in ten seconds.
They slid back down to the spring, chests heaving. Lila leaned against him, her head finding his shoulder. Kael panted at their feet while Ember zipped around them, buzzing with leftover energy.
"We're holding," she murmured, lacing her fingers with his.
Ethan nodded, his eyes scanning the silent, menacing trees. The warlord's shadow was still out there. But they were still here. "Together," he whispered.
They'd bought themselves another few hours. In the Gloomwood, that was a lifetime.