Into the Shadows
Night cloaked the forest like a velvet shroud, the moon a pale witness to the silent movement of four shadows slipping between the trees. Alaric's scouts—Kael, Mira, Torin, and Lira—were deep in enemy territory, tasked with uncovering the movements of a rival pack rumored to be allying with human hunters.
Kael led, his slender form barely disturbing a leaf as his eyes scanned every detail—the faint glimmer of campfire smoke curling above the treetops, the soft crunch of footsteps carried by the wind. His heart pounded with a mix of fear and fierce determination. Every sense screamed alert, every muscle coiled to spring.
"Two o'clock, thirty yards," Kael whispered, finger pointing to a cluster of tents nestled in a clearing.
Mira melted forward like a shadow unleashed, her body flowing with lethal grace. She slipped closer to the edge, eyes narrowing as she observed the sentries' patrol routes. Her knowledge of hunter tactics whispered warnings—traps might be hidden just out of sight.
"Traps set near the northern ridge," Mira reported, voice barely audible. "We'll need Torin for clearing."
Torin moved next, the forest floor seeming to soften beneath his careful steps. Where before he had been clumsy, now he moved with surprising silence—muscles taut and precise. As he reached the ridge, his massive hands worked quickly, dismantling snares and tripwires with careful efficiency.
Behind them, Lira crouched, her sharp gaze analyzing the patrol patterns. "They rotate every seven minutes. We have a four-minute window to slip in and gather intel before the next sweep."
The group fell into practiced silence, timing their movements like a deadly dance. Kael slipped into the camp's perimeter, eyes darting to a stack of crates marked with strange symbols. He snapped a few quick sketches in his mind—a possible weapon cache.
Suddenly, a twig snapped underfoot.
Mira tensed, muscles coiling like a spring. "Movement—east side."
Torin growled low, stepping between the threat and his smaller comrades. From the shadows emerged a lone scout from the rival pack, eyes wide in surprise but quick to reach for his blade.
Before the enemy could strike, Mira was there—swift and silent, a dagger pressed to the man's throat.
"Not a sound," she hissed.
The scout froze, then slowly dropped his weapon.
Lira motioned quickly, "We move—now."
The group retreated as one, weaving through the trees with newfound urgency. The rival pack's alarms began to sound, shouts echoing through the night.
Back at camp, Alaric waited in tense silence, his fiery power simmering beneath calm control. When the scouts returned, breathless but triumphant, he saw in their eyes the fire of survival—and hope.
Kael's maps, Mira's intel on traps, Torin's disarmament skills, and Lira's timing analysis would give the Moonborn an edge they desperately needed.
"Good," Alaric said, voice low but fierce. "This is how we take back our future—one step in the shadows, one strike at a time."