Chapter 26

  Moves Made and Supply Run

  Fifteen minutes later after the second group arrived.

  Maera straightened from where she’d been speaking with the Luna, her tone firm.

  “First thing — no one leaves without Luna or Lux knowing. We lock down the settlement until we know more.”

  Luna’s gaze swept over the gathered demi-humans, then found Lux. She moved closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear.

  “I want you to go back to Springvale,” she said. “We need supplies — real ones. Food, tools, weapons. If we’re going to make the trek to Greenwood’s forgotten capital, we’ll need enough to last the trip.”

  Lux’s brow furrowed. “You’re sure that’s a good move? What if the capital’s worse off than here? Monsters, no shelter… what if we walk into another trap?”

  “I’ve thought of that,” Luna admitted. “But it’s deep in the wilds, far from Blackwood’s reach. If it’s even half-intact, it’s better than waiting here for the baron’s men to find us.”

  He hesitated a moment longer, then exhaled through his nose. “…Alright. But if this backfires, you own it.”

  Before he could leave, Luna called over the older dog woman. “Bring me the list.”

  The parchment already held the names of the thirty who had made it here. Now, one by one, the new arrivals stepped forward — the hawk-eyed man, the green-furred dogman, the fox-eared couple, the sheep woman with her infant — until the list held thirty-eight names in charcoal strokes.

  Luna handed the parchment to Lux. “If I’m wrong, this list is all that matters. Every name is someone we can’t afford to lose.”

  Lux nodded, tucking it carefully into his satchel before turning toward the settlement’s edge.

  The moon was just a sliver when Lux slipped from the settlement’s shadow and into the forest. The walk to Springvale was less than an hour if you kept a good pace — but tonight, every step was deliberate, every rustle in the underbrush a possible set of eyes on him.

  By the time the city’s lantern-lit walls came into view, the sky was pitch. The main gates were sealed, guards posted with crossbows at the ready, and above them, the faint shimmer of a protective ward — no doubt one of the baron’s newly hired mages.

  The side road was quieter, but not empty. Two guards passed within arm’s reach, speaking in low voices about a wagon that had gone missing last week. Lux pressed himself into a shadowed alcove, heart pounding, until their boots faded into the night.

  He skirted the outer wall, looking for the old delivery entrance near the tanner’s yard — a gate that, by memory, rarely stayed locked. It was barred tonight, but the iron was old and the hinges looser than they looked. A few careful moments with his pocket knife and the metal gave a quiet groan as he slipped through.

  Inside the city, the air was different — tighter, tenser. Posters with the baron’s seal flapped in the wind, promising coin for “information leading to the recovery of fugitive property.” At every other corner, a mage’s crimson-tinged lantern glowed, throwing long shadows. Lux kept to the narrowest alleys, sometimes doubling back to avoid patrols, every turn feeling like a countdown to discovery.

  He reached Garrick’s clock shop just before the bell struck midnight. The shutters were drawn, but a dim, familiar lamplight glowed inside. Lux tapped twice, paused, then tapped again — the knock they’d used the night he’d fixed the baron’s commission.

  The door opened a crack, revealing Garrick’s sharp eyes and the smell of oil and wood shavings.

  “Lux? Gods, boy, you’re a ghost in the wind. Get in, quickly.”

  Inside, Lux pulled the door shut behind him and exhaled. The air here was warmer, safer. Clocks ticked in every corner, their rhythm masking the sound of his own quick breaths.

  “I need to cash in that favor you owe me,” Lux said, low and urgent. “Supplies. Weapons if you have them. Enough to outfit thirty-eight people for a long road.”

  Garrick’s expression darkened. “You’ve put your hand deep in the wolf’s den, haven’t you?”

  “Deeper,” Lux replied. “And I don’t have the luxury of pulling it out slowly.”

  They agreed to wait until the dead of night — three bells past midnight, when the mage lanterns dimmed for rotation and most of the guards changed shifts. Garrick led Lux into the back room, offering a pallet in the corner. Lux didn’t rest. He listened to the city outside, each bootstep in the street a reminder that being found here wouldn’t end in arrest — it would end in chains, or worse.

  Garrick leaned against his workbench, the lamplight catching in the deep creases around his eyes.

  “You’re creeping through my door like a hunted fox, boy. What have you done? And why are you ghosting through the city like the baron himself’s on your heels?”

  Lux dropped his satchel onto the bench and met the old man’s gaze. “I’ve been freeing demi-human slaves. Dozens of them. Took some from under Blackwood’s nose, and I’ve kept them hidden outside the city. That’s why I need the favor. Food, tools, weapons—anything you can spare.”

  For a moment Garrick just stared at him, expression unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, he barked a short, rough laugh.

  “By the gears… you really have got a death wish.”

  “Maybe,” Lux admitted, “but I’m not the only one who’d pay for it.”

  Garrick’s amusement faded into something harder, more resigned. “Once we get moving, take me with you. The shop’s been hit hard since the baron’s whelp died. No one dares buy from me anymore—not when they think I’m tied to him. I’ve been living off scraps for weeks.”

  Lux gave a single nod. “Then be ready to move fast. We leave tonight.”

  They worked quickly, Garrick pulling hidden stock from false walls and beneath floorboards—a short sword, bundles of dried meat, a few crossbow bolts in a wrapped cloth. Everything was packed into two satchels, ready to be carried at a sprint.

  By the time they slipped into the back alley, the city had quieted. Lanterns burned low. Their boots barely whispered against the cobblestones. They were halfway to the delivery gate when a thin shimmer of red light spilled across the street ahead—an inspection spell, swaying in the hand of a robed figure.

  A baron’s mage.

  Lux yanked Garrick into the shadow of a recessed doorway, holding his breath as the mage’s light swept closer. The man’s steps were uneven, shoulders slouched. Too many hours on his feet, and the glaze in his eyes suggested exhaustion.

  The spell flared brighter, then dimmed. The mage muttered something under his breath, scratching at his chin as he wandered past without so much as a glance into their hiding place. The moment the light turned the next corner, Lux and Garrick moved, quick and silent, until the outer wall loomed ahead.

  They reached the shadow of the east gate’s outer wall, the forest’s dark line just visible beyond. Lux checked the street—clear—and motioned Garrick forward.

  Then movement caught his eye.

  Across the square, in the glow of an open doorway, a man sat shirtless while another wrapped linen bandages across his ribs. The battered face, the sharp eyes—Lux froze.

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  Jack.

  For the briefest second, the noise of the city seemed to die. The smell of smoke, the cold bite of night air, all dulled. Memories of the sewers slammed into Lux’s mind—Jack’s smirk, his betrayal.

  Jack’s gaze lifted mid-conversation, landing squarely on Lux. Surprise flickered in his eyes, followed by something colder… and then, with sudden purpose, he stood. The man tending him protested, but Jack shoved him aside and started toward Lux.

  “Move,” Lux hissed to Garrick, shoving him ahead.

  They darted into a narrow back lane, boots skidding on the damp stone. The sound of pursuit followed—Jack’s steps quick, certain, like he knew exactly where they’d turn next.

  Two more alleys. A low wall. Garrick scrambled over while Lux kept watch. Jack rounded the corner in time to see Lux vault after him.

  But he didn’t shout. Didn’t call the guards. He just slowed to a walk, watching them go, a faint grin on his lips.

  They didn’t stop running until the cobblestones gave way to dirt, until the city wall was swallowed behind them by the trees. Garrick leaned against a trunk, breath sharp in the cold.

  Lux stood still, eyes fixed back toward the glow of Springvale. The unease in his gut was worse than any chase.

  “He saw us. He followed us,” Lux muttered. “And he didn’t say a damn thing to the guards.”

  Garrick frowned. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” Lux’s grip tightened on the strap of his satchel. “But whatever it is… it’s not good.”

  The settlement’s crude gate creaked open just enough for Lux and Garrick to slip inside. Two wolfmen shut it quickly behind them, their ears twitching at every sound from the forest.

  Lux exhaled—a long, slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The cold air felt sharper now that he was within the perimeter.

  From the shadows near the main hall, Luna stepped forward, eyes scanning him. “You sigh in relief like you were gone a week,” she said. Then her gaze cut to Garrick. “And why,” she added, voice low and edged, “did you bring another human here?”

  Lux opened his mouth, but the older man gave a small, respectful nod. “Name’s Garrick. I owed your friend a favor, and he decided to cash it in tonight.”

  Luna’s expression didn’t soften, but she turned back to Lux. “You made it back. Supplies in one piece. That should be good news. So why,” she tilted her head, studying him like she could see past his skin, “do you look like you’ve swallowed poison?”

  For a second, Lux’s eyes flicked away, toward the treeline they’d just left. “Because the trip didn’t go clean,” he muttered. “And because we’ve got a problem that might be following us.”

  Luna’s brows knitted. “Following us?” Her tone sharpened. “You mean you were spotted.”

  Lux met her gaze, jaw tight. “Not exactly. We slipped past most of the patrols. Almost got nailed by one of Blackwood’s inspection mages, but he was too tired to catch us. Then…” He hesitated, as if saying the name would give it more weight. “I saw Jack.”

  Luna’s ears twitched slightly. “Jack,” she repeated slowly, “the same one you told me tried ctaching you'r group in the sewer?”

  “The same,” Lux confirmed. “He was getting patched up in one of the barracks. Saw me clear as day. Bolted after us for a bit.”

  Garrick, standing just off to the side, frowned. “And he didn’t yell for guards? Didn’t blow your cover?”

  “That’s the part I don’t like,” Lux admitted, his voice low. “He had every chance to make sure we were cornered in those streets… and he didn’t take it.”

  Luna’s eyes narrowed, but not in confusion—more like calculation. “So either he’s planning something worse… or he’s waiting for the right moment.”

  “Yeah,” Lux said, his voice flat. “And until we figure out which, I’m not letting my guard down for a second.”

  Luna’s tail flicked once, slow and deliberate. “Then he’s not finished with you. Or us.”

  “Yeah,” Lux said, voice low. “And until I figure out why, I’m not turning my back on him for a second.”

  The torchlight from the wall danced across Luna’s face, catching the sharp glint in her eyes. She stepped closer, keeping her voice just above a whisper. “If he followed you here, that means someone’s going to start looking in the right direction. We need to plan for the worst—now.”

  Lux’s gaze drifted past her, fixed on the black treeline beyond the settlement. He’s out there… waiting.

  And then, without warning, another place bled into the edges of his vision—

  A back alley in a bombed-out city, somewhere far from home.

  A man in filthy fatigues limping after Lux through the rubble, blood soaking the side of his shirt. He hadn’t screamed for help, hadn’t raised his rifle—just smiled that strange, knowing smile before fading into the smoke. A week later, Lux’s squad walked into an ambush.

  His hands curled into fists, nails biting his palms.

  “Lux,” Luna’s voice cut through the haze. “You with me?”

  He shook it off. “Yeah. Just… remembering that letting someone live doesn’t always mean they’ll leave you alone. Sometimes, they wait until you’re comfortable… then they finish what they started.”

  Her ears angled forward. “Then we don’t let him get close enough to start.”

  Lux nodded, the muscle in his jaw tightening. “Exactly. Which means tonight, we plan like he’s already at our door.”

  They crouched over a crude map scratched into the dirt floor with a piece of charcoal, the flicker of a single oil lamp throwing long shadows across the walls.

  “We keep the noncombatants here,” Luna said, tapping the mark for the settlement hall. “Wolfmen take the outer perimeter in shifts. Lyra runs messages between patrols. The rest stay armed and—”

  Lux’s eyes lost focus for a fraction of a second. The map blurred, the lines twisting into something else entirely—a wide, dirt-smeared table back on Earth, a lantern swinging overhead, casting light on the faces of a dozen soldiers. His squad leader’s voice was sharp and sure:

  “Fallback point here. Chokepoints along the north wall. We rotate sentries every three hours to keep eyes fresh. Traps here and here—slow ‘em down, make ‘em bleed before they hit us.”

  Lux blinked hard, sucking in a breath. He could smell the damp concrete, hear the distant pop of gunfire from that night. And then, without even thinking, he picked up the charcoal from Luna’s hand.

  “No,” he said quietly, marking quick, deliberate strokes across the crude map. “We put fallback lines here, here, and here. Chokepoints on the main road and east pass. We rotate the watch every three hours, keep eyes sharp. If they get through, we use the alleys to split ‘em, not the main drag. Force them into tight spaces, take away their numbers.”

  Luna froze, ears tilting forward. She had seen that far-off look before.

  “…This isn’t just you thinking on the fly, is it?” she murmured.

  Lux didn’t look up from the map. “No. This is from a night I lived through. Different place, different enemy… but the rules don’t change.”

  There was a long pause. Then Luna sat back on her heels, slowly crossing her arms. “Then you lead this part. If that’s how you survived before, I’m not going to argue now.”

  Lux finally met her gaze. “Good. Because if he comes, we’re going to make sure he regrets me not finishing the job in the sewers.”

  Got it — here’s the continuation with the two rosters and Lux directing by name:

  By the time the final plan was set, the charcoal map on the dirt floor was surrounded by two new lists.

  One bore the names of those who could fight — wolfmen, goat man, rabbit girl, the fox-eared couple, and a few women who had scavenged weapons.

  The other listed those who would not be on the front line — mothers with children, the injured, the elderly, and those too traumatized to lift a blade.

  From the original thirty-eight, only twelve names fell under the combatant roster. The other twenty-six were carefully recorded under noncombatants, their safety now just as much a priority as the fight itself.

  Lux stood, scanning the names as if committing each to memory. His voice carried low but firm:

  “Rath, Dorrin, Toln, and Jerr— outer perimeter north wall. Rotate with Garron and Dorn every three hours.

  Sera, Veth — take the east pass. You’ve got sightlines on both approaches.

  Renn,” — he softened his tone for the young fox girl — “you stay with your mom and the noncombatants in the hall. That’s your post, and I’m counting on you.”

  One by one, he called their names, pairing fighters in ways that played to their strengths. Lyra got messenger duty as well as the only bow, weaving between posts with updates and taking out any units that are open. Korr took the choke point by the southern path, his spear perfect for narrow spaces.

  The noncombatant roster was handed to Maera, who would keep track of everyone’s location and assign the able-bodied to supply runs, water gathering, and tending to the wounded.

  When the last name was spoken, Lux stepped back and looked over the hall.

  “Remember — this isn’t just about holding ground. We’re buying each other time. Nobody gets left behind, and nobody runs off alone. If we do this right, when they come… we’ll still be standing when they leave.”

  The wolfmen gave curt nods, weapons in hand. Luna lingered near the back, watching him, her expression unreadable but her tail flicking in quiet approval.

  Luna's pov

  From the shadowed corner of the hall, Luna stood silent, her arms loosely folded, the flickering light of the oil lamps painting half her face in gold and shadow. She watched as Lux moved through the room — no hesitation in his step, no wavering in his voice.

  One by one, he called their names from the combat roster, the battered and the scarred, each still carrying the marks of chains and lashes. Rath, Toln, Dorrin, Jerr… His tone was steady, confident, and every pair of wary eyes seemed to straighten under the weight of his orders.

  She’d seen wolfmen break before. She’d seen proud demi-humans turn their eyes to the ground when spoken to, their will stripped away by years of abuse. Yet now… now they stood taller, their ears pricked forward, claws flexing as if ready for war again.

  Her tail gave a small, involuntary flick. How?

  Lux didn’t pace or shout — he moved with precision, his gaze locking on each person as he spoke their name, as if reminding them they were more than tools, more than slaves.

  This human… no. She swallowed the thought and corrected herself silently.

  This man is risking everything… everything… for me. A broken princess with nothing left but a name and the ruins of a kingdom.

  Her fingers curled slightly, nails pricking her palms. Why?

  When he finished assigning the last post, Lux didn’t linger for praise. He simply set the charcoal down and said, “We’ll make them regret coming here.” No bravado — just fact.

  The wolfmen began their patrol assignments. Lyra checked her bowstring again. Sera and veth took turns sharpening their glaives in the corner. The older dog woman, Maera, moved among the noncombatants, soothing the frightened and giving quiet instructions.

  The hours bled away into the deep night. Barricades rose over doorways and gaps in the palisade. Old shutters were reinforced with scavenged timber. Torches were snuffed one by one until the settlement was swallowed by the dark.

  It was in the earliest hours of the morning, the air cold enough to make her breath visible, that Lux finally called a halt.

  “Get some rest,” he told them. “Stay ready, but rest. You’ll need your strength.”

  No one argued. The hall slowly quieted as exhausted bodies found what space they could on floors and against walls.

  Luna remained awake a little longer, her eyes tracking Lux’s silhouette as he took the final watch by the door. The question still lingered in her chest, heavier now than before.

  Why me?