A Race Against Time
The mountain stronghold was alive with activity, warriors moving swiftly to prepare for the trek back to Crimson Fang. Tension crackled in the air as Isla paced the main hall, her silver eyes darting toward the entrance with every passing second. Draven stood nearby, his broad frame radiating restrained energy as he sharpened his blade, his amber eyes glinting with worry.
The heavy doors creaked open, and Alaric entered in a rush, his golden eyes blazing with urgency. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by grim determination.
“Scouts just returned,” Alaric announced, his voice cutting through the bustling noise. “Malrik’s forces are advancing on Crimson Fang faster than we anticipated.”
Isla’s breath caught in her chest. “How long do we have?”
“Days at most,” Alaric said, his tone clipped. “And it gets worse. He’s not just targeting the pack—he’s aiming to kill the young wolves. He wants to wipe out the next generation while we’re gone.”
A shocked murmur rippled through the room. Draven stood abruptly, his blade forgotten as his hands clenched into fists. “That coward,” he growled, his voice low and furious. “He’s too weak to face warriors, so he preys on pups?”
Eira stepped forward, her silver hair gleaming like cold fire. “If he thinks we’ll let him slaughter innocents, he’s a bigger fool than I thought.”
Kaelen’s face darkened, his golden eyes narrowing. “There’s no room for delay. We leave now and intercept him before he reaches the pack.”
Isla turned to Draven, her voice trembling but resolute. “We have to go back. We can’t let him touch them.”
Draven placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his gaze fierce but filled with reassurance. “We will stop him.”
As the warriors began assembling, the room buzzed with swift coordination. Eira took command of the vanguard, her sharp voice directing the wolves into formations. “No one breaks rank,” she said firmly. “Malrik thrives on chaos. We’ll give him none.”
Kaelen stood near Isla, his expression unreadable. “We’ll bring everything we have, Isla,” he said. “Malrik will regret threatening my daughter.”
The urgency in the room spurred everyone into action. Isla’s heart pounded as she gripped Draven’s arm. “What if we’re too late?”
“We won’t be,” Draven said, his voice low but unwavering. “We’ll protect everything you’ve built. I swear it.”
Labor on the Edge
The group set out within the hour, their forces moving quickly down the treacherous mountain paths. The weight of impending battle loomed over them, and every step felt like a race against time.
Halfway down the winding trail, Isla faltered, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as her hand flew to her belly. Pain rippled through her body, sharp and unrelenting.
Draven was at her side instantly, catching her before she could collapse. “Isla,” he said urgently, his amber eyes wide with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s too soon,” Isla gasped, her face pale. “Something’s wrong. The twins—”
Eira appeared beside them, her voice calm but firm. “She’s going into labor. We can’t move her like this.”
Kaelen barked orders to the warriors, his voice booming over the wind. “Find shelter! We hold the line here if we must.”
Alaric and the scouts fanned out, quickly locating a small clearing shielded by the rocky cliffs. Draven carried Isla in his arms, his jaw clenched as he whispered soothing words to her. “You’re strong, Isla. You can do this. Just hold on.”
Eira took control of the situation, snapping orders as the warriors formed a protective circle around the clearing. “Stay vigilant,” she commanded. “Malrik’s forces could be close.”
Draven laid Isla on a bed of cloaks, his hand never leaving hers as her cries echoed through the night. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the tension crackling in the air.
Through the haze of pain, Isla’s vision blurred, and a dark memory surfaced—a vision of her father standing over her mother, Xyla, his face twisted with rage. Blood pooled around Xyla’s crumpled form, and behind them, Eira watched with cold detachment.
“No,” Isla whimpered, shaking her head as the vision faded. “That’s not real.”
Eira knelt beside her, her tone sharp but reassuring. “It’s the pain. Don’t let it consume you, Isla. Focus.”
Draven leaned closer, his voice steady and warm despite the fear in his eyes. “You’re not alone, Isla. I’m right here.”
Her grip tightened on his hand, her silver eyes locking onto his. “We have to stop him, Draven,” she said through gritted teeth. “We can’t let him win.”
Draven nodded, his gaze fierce. “We won’t. Not now, not ever.”
As the wolves held their ground in the clearing, the tension of the approaching battle mixed with the raw power of life and death playing out before them.
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