Two weeks passed, and for the first time in longer than anyone could comfortably remember, the village breathed easy.
The western wall stood taller than before, reinforced with lessons hard-won from the breach Lucien had torn through it. Watchtowers rose at new intervals, their silhouettes sharp against the sky, manned now by rotating shifts that never left the perimeter unguarded for more than a few minutes at a time.
Scouts sent to track the Leo-kin army's movements returned with cautious relief: the main force had pulled back several days' march, regrouping near the border rather than pressing the advantage they'd already paid dearly to gain.
"They're not retreating," Thran reported to the gathered council, his arm finally free of its sling. "But they're not advancing either. Resupplying, most likely. Reinforcing their own numbers before trying again."
"Then we use the time the same way," Kael said. "Every day they wait is a day we don't waste."
No one argued.
