The Smoldering Outpost
913 Words
The horizon beyond the Blackwater River burned in a violent shade of crimson. Thunderous howls of the Blood Moon Pack echoed through the cold night air, punctuated by the faint clashing of steel and the distant, agonizing screams of the Silver Fang border guards.
The night raid had begun.
Natalia stood near the entrance of the reinforced war tent, her hands gripping the thick leather flap. The wind carried the bitter scent of smoke and iron. Behind her, Brandon stood like an immovable statue, his hand resting on the hilt of his heavy blade, his eyes scanning the darkness for any threat.
"The Alpha commands you to stay inside, My Luna," Brandon said, his voice carrying a newfound, deep respect. "The front lines are chaotic, and Kaelen’s archers are desperate."
"I am fine, Brandon," Natalia whispered, though her chest was tight with anxiety.
Before Brandon could reply, the sounds of shouting drew closer. Two Blood Moon warriors rushed into the camp, carrying a blood-soaked commander between them. They laid him hastily onto a wooden table in the center of the tent.
"Medic! We need silver-toxin antidote now!" one of the warriors roared, his face smeared with soot.
Natalia approached the table. It was one of Caleb’s veteran centurions. A silver-tipped crossbow bolt was embedded deep in his chest, and the skin around the wound was already turning a rotting, charcoal black. The purple-black veins of silver poison were crawling rapidly toward his throat, making him gasp for air as his body convulsed.
"The silver content is too high," the elder pack healer said, his face pale as he applied a glowing blue salve that instantly sizzled and turned to grey ash. "The poison is too close to his heart. He won't make it to sunrise."
"Let me," Natalia said.
She stepped forward, pulling a small dagger from Brandon’s belt before he could protest. Without a second thought, she pressed the blade against her palm, slicing a shallow line across her skin.
A sweet, intoxicating scent of winter freesia and cold spring water instantly filled the tense air of the tent, momentarily masking the smell of blood and silver.
Natalia pressed her bleeding palm directly over the black, festering wound on the centurion's chest.
*Sizzle.*
The moment her blood mixed with the silver-toxin, a soft, silver light flared beneath her hand. The centurion let out a raw, guttural scream of pain that slowly subsided into a long sigh of relief. Under the stunned gazes of the healers, the black veins began to dissolve, retreating from his throat like shadows fleeing the morning sun.
Within minutes, the rotting flesh turned pink and healthy, and the silver bolt lay loose on the table, stripped of its lethal poison.
The centurion opened his eyes, breathing deeply. He looked at his healed chest, then looked up at Natalia. Without a word, he rolled off the table, dropped to one knee, and pressed his fist against his heart.
"My life is yours, Luna Natalia," the centurion declared, his voice thick with emotion.
"Mine, too," another wounded warrior, who had witnessed the miracle from his cot, whispered.
Before Natalia could tell them to rise, the tent flap was violently thrown open.
Alpha Caleb stepped inside. He was a terrifying sight. His heavy iron armor was splattered with enemy blood, his black hair wild, and his eyes still carried a trace of the crimson beast. But the moment his gaze landed on Natalia, the tension in his massive frame vanished.
He walked straight to her, ignoring the warriors who bowed their heads in his presence. He grabbed her hand, his eyes narrowing as he saw the fresh bandage on her palm.
"You cut yourself," Caleb growled, his voice deep and laced with a possessive protectiveness.
"I saved your commander," Natalia replied, her purple eyes meeting his without fear.
Caleb looked at the healed centurion, then back at Natalia. A dark, proud smile played on his lips. He raised her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the bandage. "You continue to surprise me, little rabbit."
With a harsh laugh, Caleb turned toward the entrance and whistled. Two guards dragged a battered, bound figure into the tent, throwing him onto the dirt floor.
It was Vance, the border commander of the Silver Fang Pack and Kaelen’s trusted cousin.
Vance was covered in mud and blood, his armor cracked. He groaned, raising his head. But the moment his eyes landed on Natalia, his groans stopped. His jaw dropped, his eyes bulging in absolute disbelief.
"Natalia...?" Vance stammered, his voice shaking. "No... you were exiled... you were supposed to die in the forest... How are you—"
He looked around the tent. He saw the Blood Moon warriors standing in protective formations around her. He saw the healed centurions looking at her with absolute reverence. And finally, he saw Caleb’s massive hand resting possessively on her waist.
"How?" Vance whispered, his psychological defenses crumbling. "She is a shifted-less defect! Why are you serving her?"
"She is the True Luna of the Blood Moon, you blind fool," Caleb growled, stepping forward and grinding his heavy boot onto Vance’s shoulder, forcing him back onto the dirt.
Caleb looked down at the trembling captive, then turned to Brandon.
"Cut off Vance's wolf-tail and pack his silver sword," Caleb ordered, his voice cold and devoid of mercy. "Send them to Kaelen's palace by dawn. Tell him his cousin is our guest, and his Luna is sending her regards."
- Writer
