Sorin saw them the moment they emerged from the forest.
The moment his eyes landed on Ardis, curled weakly in Aeron's arms, his heart finally loosened its grip on his chest. He had been holding his breath since the battle ended, since the ferals scattered and the wounded were gathered. Now, seeing the little snakeling alive, even if injured, felt like a miracle.
He hurried toward them.
"Is she hurt?" Sorin asked, his voice tight as he stared at Ardis's limp body.
"Yes," Aeron replied hoarsely. His eyes were red, his expression filled with restrained pain. "Some of her scales were ripped off. Some are barely hanging."
Sorin clenched his fists. "Let's go. Your mother and Astra's mother are already waiting by the bonfire."
Varos walked beside them, his gaze sweeping across the resting area. Burned grass, bloodstains, and broken weapons told the story of the attack. "The losses are heavy," he said quietly.
Sorin nodded, his shoulders tense. "Four unblessed females. One blessed. Two female cubs."His voice dropped. "And the counting isn't even finished yet."
All around them, beastmen sat in silence. Some stared blankly at the ground. Some cried openly for their lost family. Others lay wounded, being treated by healers and priestesses. The victory felt hollow, soaked in grief.
When they reached the bonfire, Astra's and Ardis's grandmothers, along with their fathers and elders, rushed forward.
Astra took one step toward Ardis, then froze. Her hands trembled as she saw the torn scales and dried blood.
"She's injured," the priestess said urgently. "Lay her down, quickly."
Sylas spread a thick fur on the ground. Aeron knelt and carefully placed Ardis on it, his movements gentle, as if she were made of glass.
Sissira knelt at once, examining Ardis with sharp, experienced eyes. Her face tightened.
"We must remove the hanging scales," she said. "If we don't, the new ones will grow deformed. Hold her still."
Aeron and Varos gently restrained Ardis. She hissed weakly, her body shaking as fear and pain returned.
Sissira did not hesitate.
With one swift twist, she tore away the damaged scales.
The priestess made a herbs paste.
Ardis cried out, her small body trembling. Warm water washed the blood and mud from her wounds, then a thick herbal paste was spread across the raw skin. The burning pain slowly shifted into a cooling numbness.
Sissira fed her a small piece of dried fruit. "You did well, little one."
"Make a meat broth," the priestess instructed.
Astra's eyes were red. The cubs whimpered softly, sensing the tension.
"Let her sleep," Sissira said gently. "Aeron, stay near her."
Kaeris cooked the broth and fed her. Slowly and carefully.
That night, Ardis woke often, shaking from dreams. Every time she stirred, Aeron pulled her closer, whispering soft words until she calmed again.
The next morning, the journey continued.
Ardis rested in a fur-lined basket carried by Aeron. She barely spoke, her eyes dull and tired. She slept, ate a little, and slowly healed.
Days passed.
At first, the memories haunted her, the wolf's cold eyes, the choking grip, the moment she thought she would die. She would curl up, trembling, whenever someone moved too suddenly.
But every night, her family reminded her:
"You survived. You were brave."
Slowly, the fear loosened its hold.
When the group stopped to rest during the hottest hours, learning resumed.
Ardis sat with her grandparents, listening to stories of herbs, rituals, and survival. Sissira showed her how to identify healing plants. The priestess taught her the meaning behind sacred symbols.
Her first prey was a rabbit.
(Ardis firmly refused to admit it had ever been rats.)
Weeks then months passed.
The air grew colder.
The numbers had dwindled: Eighty-five females. Two thousand one hundred and three beastmen.
At last, they had reached the Great Cliff Mountain.
Soon, tents were made for them, three large fur tents standing close together. Smoke curled from the central fire pit, and the smell of meat and herbs mixed in the cold air. The temporary camp looked fragile, yet it was the only home they had now.
Ardis and Aeron could spend the cold with the snake tribe. As the area was unfamiliar, and hibernating together could increase their safety.
Ardis wanted to help, seeing everyone busy.
She carried small sticks, furs, and ropes, dragging them clumsily across the ground. When the load became too heavy, Aeron would silently take half of it, letting her believe she had done it herself. She felt proud when the tent finally stood, even if her tail ached.
"This is our home," she whispered, touching the fur wall.
Her days slowly fell into a routine.
Every morning, Ardis woke early with the cubs. She washed her face with cold water, wrapped a small pouch of dried meat around her waist, and followed them to her grandparents' tent. The pouch was always full of dried meat strips Kaeris prepared for her.
They became her snacks during long lessons.
Her grandparents taught her about herbs first, how to recognize poison leaves, how to grind roots into healing paste, and which plants were safe to burn during rituals. She learned which bark eased pain and which berries gave strength.
Some lessons were held inside the tent, but most were taught outside where the plants grew. Ardis knelt in the dirt, carefully repeating their names, sometimes mixing them up and laughing in embarrassment.
In the afternoons, Sissira and Avarra taught her about rituals, how to call for protection, how to sense the flow of energy in the land, and how to listen when the forest spoke. Ardis found these lessons strange but beautiful.
At night, she returned to Aeron, tired but happy, sharing everything she learned.
Soon, the cold could arrive, everyone had already started to prepare for it. And Ardis was ready to sleep through it.