The forest grew darker the closer they came to the outskirts of Crescent Howl’s territory. The air felt heavier, each step dragging them deeper into an ominous silence. The usual sounds of the forest—rustling leaves, chirping insects—were conspicuously absent, replaced by an unsettling quiet. Lyra tightened her cloak around her shoulders, glancing nervously at the others.
“We’re close,” Eryon murmured, his voice barely audible. His amber eyes scanned the shadowy trees, his muscles taut. “This is where their land begins. From here on out, every step we take is a gamble.”
Misery stopped beside him, her silver eyes narrowing as she surveyed their surroundings.
“The air stinks of blood,” she said, her voice steady but grim. “Whatever they’re hiding here, they’re not going to give it up easily.”
Lyra shifted uncomfortably, her hands brushing against the small pack slung over her shoulder. “Do we know anything about this pack? What to expect?”
Eryon gave a curt nod, his expression dark. “The Crescent Howl pack doesn’t forgive trespassers. They’re ruthless, even with their own. Outsiders are either executed on sight or enslaved.”
Lyra’s face paled at his words. “And Adrian thought it was a good idea to bring a baby here?”
Eryon’s jaw tightened. “I don’t think he brought her here by choice. If she ended up in their hands, it wasn’t because of him.”
Misery stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate. “It doesn’t matter how she got here,” she said, her tone resolute. “If my daughter is in this territory, I’ll burn it to the ground if I have to.”
Eryon turned to her, his expression hard but not unkind. “You can’t just charge in and expect to find her. If they catch you, they’ll kill you. They’ll kill all of us.”
Misery didn’t waver. “Then we don’t get caught,” she said simply.
Lyra stepped between them, her voice calm but firm. “Misery’s right—we can’t turn back now. But we can’t afford to make mistakes either. If we’re not careful, none of us will make it out alive.”
Eryon sighed, his frustration evident. “Fine. But we need to move carefully. No noise, no unnecessary risks. If they catch wind of us, it’s over.”
The group pressed on, their steps quieter now, each one calculated to avoid the crunch of leaves or the snap of twigs. The oppressive air only seemed to grow thicker, the faint tang of blood and decay clinging to their senses. Misery’s fingers brushed the hilt of her blade, her body tense as they moved deeper into enemy territory.
A distant howl split the silence, long and mournful, sending a chill down their spines. Eryon stopped abruptly, motioning for the others to crouch. “That’s a warning,” he whispered. “They’re close.”
Misery’s grip on her weapon tightened. “Then we need to move faster,” she said, her voice laced with determination. “We don’t stop until we find her.”
Eryon exchanged a glance with Lyra, his expression grim but resolute. They continued forward, the weight of the Crescent Howl pack’s reputation pressing down on them like a storm cloud.