DAWN ON THE RIVER
The river was a thin knife under gray light. Kael stood with soaked boots, cloak heavy. Behind him torches blinked like watchful eyes. Selene held Rowan, who hugged her arm and blinked at the water. Ronan, Lyra, and Thorne made a quiet ring. Cold and river mud rose in the air with the taste of metal.
Across the water, a single torch marked the other side. A man stood there, face in shadow. The ridge was a line of men and light. Kael felt the weight of the pack behind him and the hollow of the choice before him.
"You sure about this?" Selene asked, voice thin. Her hair hung wet. Rowan rubbed his sleepy eyes.
"We try," Kael said. "If we fight here, Varek wins. Bargain keeps a door open."
Ronan spat. "Varek does not bargain. He plans."
Lyra crossed herself. "This river used to be for parley. Now it smells like axes."
A horn blew. A call rolled across the water. "Alpha Kael Stormfang," the leader called. "Bring the child."
Kael kept his voice flat. "We bring him. We speak terms."
They walked to a flat rock at the river's edge. Rowan sat on it like a small, honest statue. He had not learned the world's knives. He looked up and asked, "Are they friends or enemies?"
Selene's fingers tightened. Kael wanted to tell a lie to keep his son safe. Instead he said, "We will find out."
The man across the way smiled without warmth. "Varek offers training and security. He keeps his men restraint if you accept. He gives land half-claims away. He keeps blood from burning borders."
Selene spat at the word training. "You barter a child?"
"You keep your ridge," the man said. "We keep peace."
Ronan ground his teeth. "He will raise the boy to be a blade."
"If you hand him over," Kael said, "you hand us a weapon."
The leader shrugged. "You can choose war, Alpha. Or you can choose order."
Kael looked at Rowan. The boy's wolf eyes were pale like stone. He had the small mouth and the slow trust of a child who loved his mother. The thought of him sleeping under Varek's men made Kael's hands clench.
"What if it's a trap?" Selene asked. Her voice trembled.
"It could be," Kael said. "But if we run, they will take him anyway. This keeps a chance."
The leader set terms: the boy would go to their camp at dusk, be trained by Varek's people, and a decision at the next full moon would fix his fate. One elder could observe. If Kael refused, they would take by force.
Lyra's hand flew to her mouth. Thorne rapped his staff on a stone. "Not a test," he said. "A slow breaking."
"We can bring Thorne," Kael said. "One elder. No chains. No tricks."
The man considered like a judge. "We will accept an elder. Dawn tomorrow. Bring proof."
Kael nodded though his guts were cold. "We will bring Thorne."
As they turned back across the wet grass, the leader's voice carried over the water. "If you flee, we strike. If you stall, we take. Bring the child or we come."
Back at the outer hold, Selene sat hard and stared at a pot of stew like it might speak. Rowan slept on her lap like an unknowing bell. Kael felt the pack's weight settle on him like armor.
Thorne rubbed his temple. "We need proof of blood and bond. We need elders and law. We need to show the clans this child is Stormfang's."
Ronan spat into mud. "And we need men ready. Varek waits for a spark."
Lyra set herbs by the fire as if they were a prayer. She looked at Selene. "This will cut you," she said softly.
Selene looked up, eyes fierce. "He will not touch my boy."
Kael heard the certainty and the warning in her voice. He felt the old ache of what he had done and what he must fix. He had hours to make a show—to gather proof, to sway a council, to keep a child from becoming a tool.
He walked to the hut's edge and breathed the cold. Moonlight had faded to gray, but the ridge torches were still lines of promise and threat. Mara's face surfaced in his mind—hard, sure, a woman who balanced law on a knife.
Thorne leaned close. "We call a small council tonight. We tell the truth and show the locket. We ask for Thorne to be witness. Mara may not like it, but law can bind even stubborn spirits if elders stand."
"What if Mara blocks us?" Ronan asked.
"Then we call neutral clans," Thorne said. "We show the world the boy belongs to Stormfang."
Lyra's voice was a small light in the hut. "And if the clans do not care, we hide him."
Kael looked at Selene—how she held the child, how she had built a life on the border without pack strength. He thought of taking Rowan into the heart of Stormfang where tests and knives awaited, and of leaving him in Selene's arms where wolves and men prowled just as dangerous.
He ground his teeth. "No chains," he said. "We show the locket. We bring Thorne at dawn. We speak to any neutral elders we can. If Varek moves to take him before dawn, we answer."
A cold breeze moved the hut's thin curtains. Ronan checked weapons quietly. The night smelled of wood smoke and the distant iron of torches. The choice had become a weight to carry to morning.
Kael felt small and large at once—small for what he had lost, large for what he must do to fix it. The horizon paled with the slow rise of sun.
He sat with Selene for a moment, fingers finding hers over the sleeping boy. No words could fix the past, but they might bend the future. Selene's skin was warm and real.
"Promise me," she said, voice thin.
"I promise I will not let them take him without a fight," Kael said.
She nodded and breathed. Rowan turned in sleep and let out a soft sound. The hut fell quiet but for the drip of water from the roof and the murmuring of men outside.
A sharp knock at the main gate cut through the night. Ronan stopped and looked up. The knock came again—three bangs, steady.
Lyra froze. Thorne's eyes narrowed. Kael stood, feeling the old fear like a shadow that knew his name.
At the gate, someone waited. The night held its breath.