day fifteen. food ran out.
not low. not rationed. out.
meera stared at empty storage pit. six days of digging. careful preservation. communal sharing.
gone.
stomach cramped. hollow ache behind ribs spreading to spine. her body eating itself from inside. muscle converting to fuel. brain slowing. hands shaking.
everyone felt it.
arin moved slower. shadowpaw metabolism burning twice human rate. his eyes sunken. fur dull.
elyx stopped talking. saved energy. moved only when necessary.
tor's stone skin looked gray. not granite-strong. ash-weak.
sivan barely moved. serpent's kin needed heat for digestion. cold-blooded meant cold-starved. their scales lost color. turned translucent in places.
rion couldn't fly. wings required calories he didn't have. grounded. restless. dying.
drayn's forge sat cold. no strength to pump bellows. no food to fuel fire-touched metabolism.
kael paced. alpha instinct screaming feed the pack. but nothing left to give.
"we have two days," sivan said. clinical. medical assessment void of comfort. "maybe three if we don't move much. then organs start failing. liver first. kidneys. heart tries to compensate but—" they stopped. "we die."
meera's throat tight. "hunting parties?"
"tried three days running." kael's voice rough. "game fled. either the bloodforge scared them off or season changed. doesn't matter. wasteland's empty."
"then we go farther."
"farther means weaker. weaker means we don't make it back." logical. brutal. true.
tor rumbled quiet. "there's kikar grove. eight miles northeast. remember? scouted it week two. bark edible. roots maybe."
"bark." drayn laughed. hollow. "we're eating trees now?"
"yes," meera said. flat. "we eat trees. we eat dirt if it keeps us alive two more days. bloodforge is coming. we need strength to fight."
silence.
then arin stood. swaying. determined. "I'll go. I can still—"
"you'll collapse at mile three," sivan interrupted. "your metabolism already in starvation mode. I can smell ketones on your breath."
"then I'll collapse at mile three trying instead of sitting here dying."
couldn't argue that logic.
meera made decision. "tor. arin. me. we go. three hours max. grab what we can carry. everyone else—" she looked around. "save strength. drayn—can you work forge?"
"on what fuel?"
"me," tor said. "I'll haul wood. after we return. one last push before battle."
"you'll be exhausted," kael warned.
"I'm stoneback. exhaustion is rest-state." tor almost smiled. "we adapt. we endure."
pack mentality. everyone contributing until nothing left.
meera grabbed empty pack. "we leave now. back before dark."
eight miles felt like eighty.
meera's vision grayed at edges. twice. depth perception failing. brain rationing blood-sugar for vital organs.
tor caught her both times. massive hand steadying. "breathe. count steps. don't think about distance."
she counted. lost track at three hundred. started again.
arin moved purely on instinct. pack-driven. following alpha command beyond conscious thought.
kikar trees appeared like mirage. twisted. thorny. real.
"bark from lower trunk," tor instructed. "higher up is toxic. roots—dig shallow, two feet max. deeper ones bitter."
they worked. hands bleeding. thorns catching skin. didn't matter. pain meant alive. alive meant fighting tomorrow.
bark tasted like dirt mixed with bitterness that made tongue curl. meera chewed anyway. swallowed. stomach cramped harder then—
warmth.
tiny. barely there. but warmth.
calories. fiber. something.
"it's working," she gasped.
they filled packs. bark strips. roots. handful of seed pods arin found.
not enough for everyone. not enough for one meal.
but something.
then arin froze.
ears forward. hackles rising.
"what—" meera started.
his hand shot up. silent. listen.
breathing. heavy. multiple sources.
through trees. shapes moving.
dune jackals.
six of them. lean. desperate. starving.
same as meera's pack. hunting same grove. same resources.
territorial.
lead jackal growled. warning. this is ours.
arin growled back. younger. weaker. but shadowpaw.
pack tactics kicked.
jackals circled. testing. looking for weakness.
meera's hand found bow. three arrows left. exhausted arms. shaking grip.
tor positioned himself between meera and jackals. living wall.
"back away slow," he rumbled. "they're desperate. we're desperate. nobody wins this fight."
lead jackal disagreed.
lunged.
arin met him mid-air.
not thought. instinct.
shadowpaw combat older than language. older than clans. older than wasteland itself.
bodies collided. physics making music—impact, grunt, skid across sand.
lead jackal twisted mid-grapple. teeth seeking throat. death-strike. alpha move.
arin rolled. shoulder dropped. let momentum carry jackal OVER instead of through.
use their strength. redirect. survive.
pack-teaching from cubhood. elyx's voice in memory: "don't fight force. guide it."
jackal landed hard. off-balance for heartbeat.
arin pivoted. claws flashing. not wild slashes—precision. four strikes targeting tendons behind fore-legs.
disable. ground prey. then kill.
but jackal fast. impossibly fast for starving.
desperation made everyone faster.
blocked two strikes. took third across ribs. fourth missed by fur's width.
now circling. predators evaluating. adjusting.
other jackals attacking tor and meera. peripheral awareness registered—tor's roar, meera's bowstring, chaos spreading—but arin's focus narrowed.
just him. just alpha jackal. just dance.
jackal feinted left. arin bought it. shifted weight—
mistake.
jackal reversed. true lunge from right. teeth found arin's shoulder. clamped down. bone-deep. shredding.
pain white-hot. blinding. world going red-black at edges.
shadowpaw rage answering. primal. feral. ancient.
arin stopped fighting smart. started fighting true.
claws extended full. every finger. both hands. seeking vital points with instinct that predated conscious choice.
found jackal's throat. buried claws. felt pulse against palm—rapid, terrified, alive—
tore.
not clean. not surgical. savage.
flesh parting. arterial spray hot against face. copper scent thick. life ending in gush of red.
jackal's teeth released. body spasming. hind legs kicking empty air. autonomic response outliving brain.
dropped. twitching. dying.
arin stood over corpse. breathing ragged. shoulder screaming. victory tasting like ash and blood and survival.
remaining two jackals ran.
pack broken. alpha dead. survival instinct overriding hunger.
arin collapsed. blood pumping from shoulder wound. soaking fur. too much blood.
"tor—" meera's voice cracked.
stoneback already moving. ripping cloth from his own shirt. pressure bandage. crude. effective.
"he's alive. barely. we need to move now."
eight miles back. arin bleeding. meera's vision graying. tor carrying both packs plus arin.
impossible.
they did it anyway.
sunset when they stumbled into camp.
sivan appeared. saw blood. went professional-cold. "lay him there. now."
arin placed carefully. whimpering. shock setting in.
"jackals," tor reported. "six. killed four. he's—"
"I see it." sivan already working. hands moving fast despite depleted state. "this is bad. bone-deep. infection risk high."
meera distributed bark and roots. everyone took share. chewed slowly. stomachs cramping from something-after-nothing.
not enough. not close.
kael watched arin bleeding. watched pack eating tree-bark. alpha failure written across face.
he stood.
meera knew that posture. "kael. no."
"alpha feeds pack." quiet. absolute.
"you'll die out there alone."
"maybe. but I'll die trying instead of watching them—" he gestured at arin, at elyx crying over her brother, at everyone starving, "—die doing nothing."
"that's not—"
"it is." he grabbed spear. checked knife. "bloodforge comes tomorrow. maybe day after. we fight starving, we die regardless. I get food now, we have chance."
logic. terrible logic. true logic.
meera grabbed his arm. fur warm under palm. "then I go with—"
"no." growl in voice. alpha command. "you lead here. you coordinate. you're human—slower metabolism, different needs. I'm shadowpaw. I can push harder. Hunt better. one target."
"kael—"
he touched her face. brief. gentle. desperate.
"if I don't come back, you keep building. you make this settlement work. you prove your father right." his thumb brushed her cheek. "promise me."
she couldn't speak. nodded.
he left.
sprinting into failing light. alone. hunting wastelands emptied by bloodforge and climate and bad luck.
meera watched until darkness swallowed him.
midnight.
kael still gone.
meera couldn't sleep. body too hungry. mind too afraid.
found drayn at forge. fire burning despite everything.
"where'd you get fuel?" she asked.
he gestured. pile of wood. "tor hauled it. two hours after you returned. said he promised." drayn's hands shook lifting hammer. "so I work. I make weapons. because he kept his word."
each hammer strike echoed. rhythm. purpose. meaning.
meera watched metal shape under impact. spear-head forming. crude. functional. enough.
"you didn't have to," she said.
"yes I did." drayn plunged red metal into water. steam hissing. "sora died because I had no power. no clan. no strength." his voice cracked. "I couldn't save her. couldn't even bury her properly. slavers took body for—" he stopped. breathed. "I will not watch another pack die preventable death."
he pulled metal out. inspected. unsatisfied. returned to fire.
"this is what I do. I forge. I create. I make tools that keep people alive." hammer struck again. sparks flying. "maybe that doesn't stop bloodforge. maybe we all die tomorrow. but we die armed. we die fighting. that matters."
meera felt tears. didn't know she had water left for crying.
"he'll come back," she said. believing. needing to believe.
"maybe."
they worked together. meera pumping bellows. arms screaming. drayn shaping metal. hands bleeding.
hours passed.
twelve spear-heads. twenty arrow-tips. six knives.
not army. not enough.
but something.
dawn light touched eastern sky.
kael appeared.
dragging deer carcass. massive. enough meat for everyone.
covered in blood.
not just deer blood.
gash across his chest. deep. ribs visible through torn flesh.
he collapsed at gate.
"got it," he gasped. smile on bloody face. "told you. alpha feeds—" coughed. blood on lips. "—pack."
then unconscious.
sivan appeared. saw wound. face went death-pale.
"move. now."
sivan worked.
hands steady despite shaking. serpent's kin cold-blood advantage. no panic. just work.
"meera. water. boiled. now."
she ran. got fire going. water heating.
"tor. I need—" sivan listed supplies. impossible list. things they didn't have.
tor found alternatives. spider silk for stitches. clay for wound-packing. herbs they'd gathered.
jugaad medicine. making do. survival.
"he fought dune jackals," sivan said. examining wounds. "same pack probably. six initially. he killed four. took this—" they pointed at chest wound, "—from alpha before finishing it."
same jackals that hurt arin.
kael went after them deliberately. revenge and food combined.
"he shouldn't be alive," sivan continued. "blood loss alone should've killed him. but shadowpaw healing factor..." they shook head. "might be enough. might."
surgery took hours.
cleaning wound. removing debris. stitching muscle. spider-silk holding flesh together.
everyone watched.
pack witnessing alpha's sacrifice.
when sivan finally stepped back, exhaustion written in every scale, kael still breathed.
"he'll live," they whispered. "probably. infection is risk. but he'll live."
meera collapsed beside him. hand finding his. fur matted with blood and medicine.
"you stupid, brave, impossible—" she couldn't finish.
his hand twitched. squeezed hers. barely.
still fighting. even unconscious.
tor appeared with deer meat. butchered quickly. efficiently.
"everyone eats," he rumbled. "kael hunted. we honor sacrifice by surviving."
meat roasted. first real food in week.
smell alone made meera dizzy. stomach cramping with anticipation.
first bite—
gods.
flavor exploding. protein. fat. life.
she ate slowly. body shocked by substance after starvation.
everyone ate. silent. reverent.
arin sitting up now. shoulder bandaged. eating with tears streaming.
elyx feeding unconscious kael broth. drop by drop.
drayn eating one-handed. other hand still making weapons.
sivan eating nothing. too depleted to digest. just watching. ensuring everyone else survived.
tor eating methodically. fuel for more labor ahead.
twelve outcasts. eleven conscious. one bleeding.
still alive.
still together.
meera looked around fire. saw family forged in hunger and blood.
"bloodforge comes tomorrow," she said quietly.
"let them come," drayn responded. hammer striking metal. rhythm continuing.
"we'll be ready," tor agreed.
"we fight together," arin added. weak but determined.
"we live together," elyx finished. touching brother's bandaged shoulder.
pack pact renewed through crisis.
kael's breathing steadied. fever not yet setting in.
he'd live.
they'd fight.
maybe die.
but together.
day sixteen. walls stood.
kael woke at dawn. tried to stand. couldn't.
"I'm fine," he lied.
"you're dying," sivan corrected. "three shattered ribs. chest wound deep enough I saw lung. you fight tomorrow, you die."
"then I die fighting."
"kael—" meera started.
"no." alpha command. weak but present. "bloodforge comes for all of us. I stand. even if standing kills me."
couldn't argue with alpha who'd hunted alone while bleeding.
couldn't stop him even if she wanted.
"then we make it count," meera said. "every weapon. every trap. every advantage. we make your sacrifice matter."
kael nodded. pain flickering across face.
"together," he whispered.
"together," pack echoed.
Final Scene: Drums on the Wind — Goal: Final Preparations | Conflict: Time Running Out | Result: Enemy Arrives, War Begins Tomorrow
afternoon brought sound.
distant. rhythmic. felt in chest before heard in ears.
boom. boom. boom.
war drums.
bloodforge.
coming.
rion dropped from practice flight. wing healed enough for short glides. "they're here. ten miles out. thirty warriors. war-painted. siege equipment."
everyone stopped working.
reality hitting.
tomorrow wasn't preparation anymore.
tomorrow was war.
meera climbed wall. looked west.
dust cloud rising. army marching.
her father's killer leading them.
her death approaching.
or her victory.
one or the other.
no middle ground in wasteland.
she touched mother's bone beads. eighteen beads. eighteen years of loss.
maybe tomorrow added one more bead.
or maybe tomorrow she avenged them all.
"positions," she called. voice carrying. steady despite shaking hands. "we finish walls. we set traps. we prepare."
"we fight," kael added. standing despite sivan's protests. blood seeping through bandages. "we win."
twelve faces looked up at her.
trust. fear. hope. rage.
everything.
meera breathed deep.
"for red hollow. for fallen families. for everyone bloodforge crushed." she raised fist. "for us."
"FOR US!" twelve voices roared.
work resumed. desperate. determined.
sun setting red. blood-sky.
omen or coincidence.
didn't matter.
tomorrow came regardless.
and with it—
war.
End of Chapter 8