Luna of Rogues

Part 45 - Enemies and Victims

"How many?" I asked.

We were crouching behind a yew tree, and there was no clear line of sight, but scent and audio could work miracles. Leo shook his head at me in concern. "I count seven at least."

I raised my eyebrows at Rhys and Sophie, who were sprawled in a bramble to our right. He used the link to reply, "Three over here. They're not freshly minted ferals, but they're damn close."

Well, shit. We were hardly a mile from Jace's camp in the Silverstones. Yet we had somehow stumbled on a feral scouting party in the deepest, darkest part of the forest. I could scarcely move without getting tangled in a bush, which made sneaking around practically impossible.

We could have strafed sideways and kept going, or even returned with pack reinforcements. But these ferals seemed to have a prisoner — a female, by the sound of her weeping. And none of us were okay with leaving a female at the mercy of crazed wolves if we could help it.

And we could certainly help it. Ten against four was tricky, but it wasn't impossible.

I jerked a thumb into the trees to our left and nodded at Rhys. He got the message and slipped further right, skirting the camp's edge to reach the far side. Sophie followed a few steps behind. I'd asked her to stick with my brother because I wasn't entirely sure whether she was alright, and she hadn't been thrilled, but she hadn't kicked up a fuss either.

Next, I looked long and hard at Leo. He was making a huge effort to prove he was fine, but he'd been suffering from a dry hacking coughing since Ember. I had to reflect that it was just not possible to bounce back from dying.

"I don't suppose you'd stay here?" I sighed.

Leo's answer was a scoff. A moment later, he slunk left, and I was alone. They would be waiting for my signal. Blowing on my hands to warm them, I kicked at the snow and listened. It sounded like the ferals were about to break camp, which was convenient for us.

I pulled out my knife and flicked out the blade. That went upside down in my left hand. For my right, I found a yew branch and snapped off the side branches. The tree of death. Appropriate. Ready as I'd ever be, I tugged on the link.

"Rhys, Sophie, shift. You two take care of the bystanders. Leo, go for the runners, if there are any." A nice, easy job to avoid straining his lungs. "I'm going to find the female, okay?"

"Don't want to shift," Rhys grumbled.

I sent a growl rumbling through the link. "And why's that?"

"Because they're not shifted, and they'll have knives, that's why."

He had a point. It was easier to fight in wolf form unless there were pointy objects involved — then you were twice as vulnerable. And it wasn't like Rhys to care about safety, but there was something about fighting rabid animals that made you itchy.

"You don't have a knife," I pointed out shortly.

"Reckon I'll find myself one."

"Well, fine." Rhys didn't often dispute my orders, so it was best to listen when he did. "You don't have to shift, little brother. Same goes for you, Sophie."

"I'd rather have my teeth," she muttered. "Can we get on with this, please?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. This had to be done carefully — the whole situation was very fragile. One slip and everything would come smashing down around me. "Yeah, okay. Let's get as close as we can."

I crept to the next patch of undergrowth, then the next, until I was a foot from the closest tent. I couldn't stay there; there were several angles at which I could be spotted, but I could use it to pick my first mark — a scrawny youth, just to warm up.