Chapter 2 Ambushed

Finn

I run at the front of the formation with Robin keeping pace on my right, the rhythm of dozens of paws behind us carrying through the forest floor like thunder. The scent of my warriors surrounds me, familiar and reassuring, blending with pine, damp earth, and the distant river that winds north toward LotusMoon. 

Somewhere beyond these forests lies the territory my father intends to claim, and I have spent most of the journey thinking about the responsibility waiting for me there. As Alpha King Leoric's son, I know every campaign becomes a test eventually. 

“Do we have enough warriors with us?” Robin asks through the mind-link.

I flick an ear toward him. “We should have more than enough. We’re just going to fight with the patrols at the border and then come back. Just to test the water. We shouldn’t expect a full-blown war today.”

“You’re right,” Robin replies. “At least, I hope you are.”

Robin has always been one of the few wolves willing to speak to me like a normal person. Most warriors see the king’s youngest son when they look at me. Robin sees the friend he has known for years, and usually, that is a relief.

“Do you know something I don’t?” I ask. 

“I just have an eerie feeling. We might want to call for more soldiers.” He sounds more serious than usual. 

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll send a runner back for a couple dozen more.” 

Robin looks at me sideways as we run. “I would.” 

I send a runner back to the barracks to come back with another brigade, and the conversation fades naturally as my attention returns to the landscape ahead. The forest is changing. The trees are growing denser, and the route before us narrows into a shallow valley bordered by ridges on both sides. 

It is the sort of terrain that forces an army into a tighter formation and limits visibility. I don’t particularly like it. If I were defending LotusMoon and looking for a place to strike an approaching force, this is exactly where I would do it.

The thought has barely formed when the wind changes, and I immediately catch a scent that doesn’t belong here in my territory. 

My pace slows slightly as I sort through it. The smell is unquestionably wolf-shifter, but not one of my warriors. More importantly, it is fresh. Very fresh. The scent is strong enough that whoever left it can’t be far away.

Beside me, Robin reacts at almost the same moment. “Tell me that's old.”

“I believe you may have been right,” I send back. 

The unease in my chest sharpens. Our scouts should have reported activity this close to our route. They should have seen movement along the ridges or picked up signs of a nearby force. Instead, we are entering a narrow valley with enemy scent hanging in the air around us.

I reach through the command link to the warriors behind me.

“Slow the advance. I want—”

The first howl cuts through the forest before I can finish. A second follows immediately. Then a third, and within seconds, the ridges erupt with movement.

LotusMoon warriors pour from both sides of the valley, racing downhill in numbers large enough to turn my stomach. They are not reacting to our presence. They were waiting for us.

“Ambush!” I send through the command link as the first wave crashes into our formation.

The battle begins instantly. Nightwing warriors surge forward to meet the attack, and the valley explodes into violence. Wolves slam into one another. Growls echo through the trees. Commands fly across the links as warriors attempt to maintain formation while fighting on uneven ground. We are greatly outnumbered. 

The longer we fight, the clearer the truth becomes. This was planned. Someone knew our route. Someone knew our numbers. Someone knew exactly where to find us.

A LotusMoon warrior launches himself at me, and I meet him head-on and drive him backward before another attacks from my left. There is no time to think, only react. Around me, the battle continues spreading through the valley as warriors become separated into smaller groups.

Wolves slam into wolves. Our column fractures instantly. I adjust my stride sharply, cutting toward the nearest opening where the line is giving way. The ground changes under my paws as I move into the gap, weaving through the chaos as bodies rush past in opposite directions.

I am halfway there when something strikes me from the side with enough force to lift me off my feet, and it’s as though the ground disappears beneath me.

I tumble down a steep embankment hidden by brush and fallen leaves, crashing through branches and roots before finally slamming into the bottom. Pain flares through my shoulder as I force myself upright and try to regain my bearings.

The sounds of battle are still there, but they are farther away now. Much farther away. The forest above should still be open enough for sound to carry clearly, yet something feels wrong about the way it fades, as if the space between us has thickened.

Above the ridge, the sky darkens with unnatural speed. Clouds roll in like a breaking wall, swallowing what little light remains. Thunder follows almost immediately, low and heavy at first, then building into sharp cracks that echo through the valley. 

Lightning tears across the sky, turning the forest into sudden, fractured flashes of black and white. Rain comes down hard and fast, sheets of it hitting the trees and ground hard, drowning out everything that isn't right in front of me.

“Robin?” I reach through the link. No answer comes back.

A knot forms in my stomach.

“Robin!”

Nothing.

I try the command link next, reaching for the warriors I should be able to hear.

Silence.

The storm is too loud now, too dense, the rain falling hard. It should not be possible for sound and connection to vanish this completely in seconds, but it does.

For a moment—just a second—I see shapes above the ridge through the rain and lightning, dark figures moving where no one in human form should be. There are cloaked forms moving away from the chaos. I see two women among them, walking with difficulty, their hands bound. Then another flash of lightning splits the sky, and they are gone, swallowed by storm and distance.

My breath comes harder now as I stand alone beneath the ridge, the rain hammering through the forest and thunder rolling overhead. 

I lift my head and force myself to focus. My pack has to be here somewhere. I have to be able to scent them out. 

I start moving uphill first, my claws digging into mud as I climb back toward the ridge where the attack began. Every step is heavier than the last, the rain soaking through my coat until it feels like the cold is inside my bones instead of on my skin. 

The forest above should still be full of movement, full of sound, full of warriors locked in battle—but there is nothing I can lock onto. No distinct scent trails I recognize. No clusters of my pack. There is only rain and churned earth, and the lingering chaos of something that already moved on without me.

I throw a howl into the storm, the kind we use to regroup and locate each other, but it disappears into the rain without any response. It used to be enough in training runs, in drills, in moments where distance blurred but unity held. Now, no one answers. 

The silence feels wrong in a way I can’t describe, and I can’t help but wonder who told LotusMoon we were coming. Who were those women? Were they in danger? 

I push through the ridge line and move laterally, scanning the slope below and the treeline above, searching for anything consistent enough to follow. The storm has erased detail from everything. Lightning breaks the world into fragments, and in each fragment, I see nothing but empty movement—branches shaking, water streaming, shadows that refuse to stay in place. 

At one point, I catch the scent of wolf again and immediately change direction, moving fast through the trees toward it. It disappears before I reach it. Not fading gradually, not leading somewhere else—just gone, as if it was never there at all. I stop so abruptly that my paws slide in the mud, my chest heaving as I try to make sense of it.

There should at least be enemy wolves here. There should be Nightwing. There should be someone to track, yet, there’s nothing.

Hours pass like that. Rain, movement, searching, stopping, changing direction again. The forest becomes less like a place and more like a pattern that keeps rearranging itself each time I think I understand it. My body grows heavier with every failed attempt to find Robin and the rest of my pack. 

Eventually, my pace slows as I become aware of how long it has been since I last recognized anything at all. Then I notice a cave.

Its mouth is small, tucked into the side of a low rock formation half-hidden by high roots and overgrown brush. I only see it when lightning fractures the sky again and briefly outlines the shape of it against the dark.

I run over to it, stopping for only a moment before stepping inside. The air is dry compared to the storm outside, and I lower myself onto the ground near the back wall, my muscles shaking more than I expect them to.

For a long time, I don’t move. The storm continues outside, and I stay awake as long as I can, but exhaustion eventually drags me under, and I slip into sleep.