Free Web NovelChapter 40: Chapter 40: The Hunt & New Threats
By afternoon the training yard had turned into a churned-up mess of slush and boot prints. Mara had the women running shield drills with heavy planks strapped to their arms.
I joined for a short round, wooden blade in my grip, moving slower than I used to but still landing clean strikes. Lila watched from a fur-lined basket Rylan had carried out, chewing on a strip of dried venison and kicking her legs every time steel rang against wood.
One of the younger girls hesitated on a block, and I corrected her stance, showing how to drop her weight instead of leaning back.
"Commit," I said. "Half measures get you killed when it matters."
She tried again and the block held. A small cheer went up from the line. I stepped back, breath fogging, and felt the twins give a hard double kick that made me wince.
Rylan appeared at my side, took the blade from my hand, and pressed a waterskin into it instead.
"Enough for today," he said quietly. His amber eyes flicked to my belly, then back up. "They’re getting rowdy."
"They’re always rowdy," I answered, but I drank anyway.
Darius met us at the gate with a scout report in his hand. Three riders had just returned from the eastern ridges. They’d found fresh tracks in the snow, boot prints mixed with wolf prints, heading north along the border but never crossing.
No campfires, no signs of camps, just the tracks and a single black feather tied to a low branch like a marker. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
"They’re watching us watch them," Darius said. His voice stayed even, but his free hand flexed once at his side. "No message. No contact. Just enough to let us know they’re there."
I read the report twice. The feather was crow, nothing special, but the placement felt deliberate. "Send two more teams out at dusk. Different routes. I want eyes on every ridge between here and the dead pass. If they want to talk, they’ll have to come closer."
Garrick nodded and moved off to arrange it. Territory business never stopped. We still had to feed the keep, mend fences, settle petty grievances, and keep the walls from cracking under the ice. I handled it all with one hand on my belly and the other steady on the back of a chair when the fatigue rolled in hard.
That night the chambers felt smaller with the storm howling outside. Lila had finally crashed after refusing to sleep for two hours straight, sprawled across a pile of furs with her carved wolf tucked under her chin.
Kane sat beside her, one scarred hand resting on her back like he could guard her even in dreams. Darius paced the balcony despite the cold, cloak pulled tight, eyes on the dark ridges. Rylan stayed with me by the fire, his palm flat over the highest point of my belly where the twins were most active.
"They’re quieter tonight," he said.
"They’re saving it for when I try to lie down," I answered. A sharp elbow or knee jabbed right under my ribs and I hissed. Rylan rubbed the spot gently, and the movement eased for a moment.
The bond between the four of us felt tighter these days, less like fire and more like iron. The curse still tested us on full moons, but the witch’s mark on my chest had faded to a pale scar that only burned when the wind shifted just right. We were holding. Barely. But holding.
I leaned my head against Rylan’s shoulder and listened to the fire pop. Tomorrow we’d send the scouts, review the new root cellar plans, and push another law through council about fair water rights on the lower streams.
The keep would keep growing, stone by stone, law by law. Lila would take more steps. The twins would press harder against my ribs. And somewhere out on the eastern ridges three strange wolves moved through the snow, asking questions about us without showing their faces.
The storm eased a little toward midnight. I closed my eyes and felt the bond settle deeper, warm and unyielding. Whatever those eastern wolves wanted, they’d have to earn it the hard way. The North didn’t give anything away for free anymore. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
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Days and weeks dragged on under a sky that refused to clear. The keep’s stores grew thin. We had stretched the last of the fall grain and salted meat as far as they would go, but the snow kept coming and the wolves kept eating. I called the kings and Garrick together one gray morning while Lila chewed on a strip of dried venison at my feet.
"We send the hunting parties out tomorrow," I said. "Three teams. East for big game, south for fish and herbs, river route for timber and whatever roots the ground still gives up. We need enough to last until the thaw or we start rationing by the end of the month."
Darius traced the routes on the worn map with a blunt finger. Kane checked the list of men and horses twice. Rylan volunteered to lead the southern team himself, axe already leaning against the wall like it had been waiting for the order. Garrick nodded once and left to pick the riders. No arguments. The pack had learned that when I spoke in that room, the decision was already made.
Lila looked up at me with her mouth full and said "Go?" in that small, clear voice she had started using. I ruffled her hair and shook my head. "Not this time, little storm. Mama stays right here and keeps the fires burning for when they come back."
The parties rode out at first light. I stood at the gate wrapped in heavy furs, Lila balanced on my hip, while the horses snorted steam and the men checked their straps one last time. Rylan swung up last, glanced back at us, and gave a short nod that said he would bring something useful or he would not come back at all. The bond pulled tight as they disappeared into the white, and I felt the twins shift hard inside me like they had felt the horses leave too.
The first week without them stretched long and quiet. I moved slower now, eight months heavy, belly low and round enough that my boots barely laced. My ankles swelled by midday and my back ached in a dull, constant line from hips to shoulders.
I still walked the lower halls every morning, checking the remaining barrels and sacks, counting what we had left. Lila toddled beside me most days, one small hand gripping my skirt, the other pointing at everything that caught her eye. She had learned to say "up" when she wanted to be carried and "cold" when the wind slipped under the doors. She said it so often that I started keeping an extra fur blanket draped over the back of the council bench just for her.
One afternoon she managed to climb the three steps to the storage ledge on her own. I was too slow to stop her with my swollen feet and the weight dragging me down. She stood at the top grinning like she had conquered the whole ridge, then sat down hard and slid the rest of the way on her backside.
I caught her at the bottom and held her close while she laughed into my neck. The twins answered with a rolling kick that made me catch my breath against the stone wall. Lila patted my belly like she was telling them to behave.
The kings took turns staying close. Darius handled the daily reports with Garrick and kept the guard rotations tight. Kane spent hours in the armory sharpening blades and checking harnesses, but he always found me before supper with a bowl of broth he had kept warm by the hearth. Rylan was gone, but the bond still carried the faint sense of him moving south through the snow, steady and purposeful.
Ten days after they left, the river team returned first. Two sleds creaked into the bailey loaded with frozen fish, bundles of dried reeds for winter weaving, and a crate of bitter roots the women used for fever. The pack turned out to unload them, breath fogging in the cold air. I watched from the steps with Lila on my hip and felt something loosen in my chest for the first time in weeks. It wasn’t enough to last the whole winter, but it was a start.
The eastern team came in two days later with a young buck strapped across one horse and several rabbits hanging from the saddles. Their leader pulled me aside while the others dragged the carcasses to the butchering shed.
"Fresh tracks on the far ridge again," he said low enough that only I could hear. "Same three sets of prints. They’re moving parallel to our route but staying just out of sight. No camp. No fire. Just the prints and that black feather tied to a branch again."
