Chapter 21 – Tracks in the Dust
The council chamber felt different at dawn — sharper somehow, the air cut through with urgency. The fire in the central pit had burned low, its smoke curling lazily toward the skylight, staining the early light in ribbons of gray.
Every elder was present. The scout knelt before them, still coated in dust from his run.
"Feral tracks," he said again, voice rough with exhaustion. "Fresh. Within half a day's run, maybe less."
The room stirred. Whispers bloomed like weeds.
"Too close."
"They never venture this near the Circle."
"What drew them here?"
I stood at the edge of the gathering, listening. My pulse was steady, but a part of me — the lioness in my blood — felt the shift in the air. A hunt had begun, whether they realized it or not.
Elder Korr's gaze landed on me. "Maise. You've been rather vocal lately. Perhaps you have wisdom to offer?"
The mockery in his tone was deliberate. I let it hang between us a moment before I stepped forward, slow, deliberate, unhurried.
"Ferals this close means something's changing," I said. "Maybe it's hunger. Maybe it's boldness. But they don't come this near unless they smell weakness."
A few of the council exchanged uneasy glances.
"And do you mean to imply we are weak?" one snapped.
I met his eyes. "I'm saying sitting in this hall arguing while ferals circle our borders makes us weak."
The murmurs grew louder, rippling like a wave through the chamber.
Before anyone could answer, I continued, "You need someone who knows how to move fast, to think faster. I'll take a team and follow the tracks."
A stunned silence followed. Then laughter — short, derisive.
"You?" Elder Korr said, leaning forward. "You've barely settled your claim, and now you want to lead a war band?"
"Not a war band," I said evenly. "A hunt. Quick, quiet, effective."
One of the older lionesses frowned. "This isn't your role."
"Then make it my role," I replied. "Because whether or not you send me, I'm going."
That silenced them. Even the crackling of the fire seemed to pause.
Nox shifted beside me, unreadable. Then, quietly, he said, "She's right."
All heads turned.
"She's the fastest among us," Nox continued, his tone cool but resolute. "If ferals are this close, we can't afford ceremony. Maise leads the vanguard."
Elder Korr opened his mouth to protest, but Nox's gaze hardened — that quiet, deadly kind of authority that didn't need volume.
And just like that, the matter was settled.
By the time we left the hall, the sun had risen fully, spilling gold across the plains.
Ren handed me a waterskin, his expression thoughtful. "You enjoy shocking them, don't you?"
I smiled faintly. "If it gets them moving, yes."
Luka stretched beside us, rolling his shoulders. "You realize this makes you the first female to lead a hunt since the Second Era?"
"Then I suppose I'd better make it a good one," I said.
Nox joined us a moment later, his armor light, his expression grim. "We leave within the hour. Take only what you need. No more than six."
"Six is enough," I said, scanning the horizon. "Too many and we scare them off. Too few and they think we're easy prey."
His lips curved slightly. "You've thought this through."
"I don't like losing."
He nodded once, approval in his eyes. "Good. Then don't."
The plains stretched wide beneath the noon sun. Every step kicked up a fine red dust that clung to our boots and tails. The scent of wild earth was thick, mixed with something else — sharp, acrid, wrong.
Ren crouched low, fingertips brushing a shallow print in the dirt. "Feral tracks," he said. "Fresh."
"Four… no, five of them," Luka added, kneeling beside him.
I studied the tracks — deep, uneven, moving fast. Not the aimless wanderings of lost beasts. Purposeful. Focused.
"They're hunting," I murmured. "And not just for food."
Nox's shadow fell beside mine. "You think they're tracking us?"
"Or something we're guarding," I said softly.
The wind shifted then, carrying the faintest echo — a low, guttural sound far off in the distance. Not loud enough to be a roar. But enough to make every instinct in my body flare awake.
Luka's ears twitched. "You heard that, right?"
"Yes," I said. My hand rested lightly on the hilt at my side. "They're closer than the scout thought."
Nox's eyes scanned the horizon, his jaw tightening. "We'll make camp here. Rest, listen, and move at dusk."
"Dusk?" Luka frowned. "You're giving them the advantage."
"No," I said, eyes still fixed on the plains. "We're taking theirs. Ferals hunt best in the dark. I want to see what hunts them back when the night turns."
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then Nox gave a short nod. "You heard her. Prepare."
As the others scattered to set camp, I stayed where I was, staring out over the endless sweep of land.
The prints stretched ahead of us — long, deliberate, vanishing into shadow.
Whatever lay ahead, it wasn't chaos. It was intent.
And intent meant danger.