Divide the Pack
The gorge burned behind them. Now the forest in front would become their blade.
Alaric stood in the war pavilion, the air thick with the scent of leather, pine, and fire oil. Moonlight streamed through the open seams in the hide tent, casting silver veins over the war maps. The scouts had returned with fresh movements: Ironfang patrols now staggered, their command structure fraying under the sudden loss of their supply artery.
"They're reacting," Mira said. "But not coherently. They're angry, reckless."
"Good," Alaric replied, eyes never leaving the map. "It's time we turn that rage into a trap."
---
Phase Two: Divide the Pack
He pointed to three red wolf tokens—Ironfang divisions scattered across the terrain.
"Pack One: Led by Garrin the Butcher. East flank, near the ruined glades. Brutal but impatient. We'll bait him with a 'wounded caravan'—Moonborn faking retreat. Once they chase, we seal the glade and raze the forest behind them. No exits."
He slid the token into a tight snare-shaped circle.
"Pack Two: Kellen's scouts. They favor speed and high ground. We'll feed them false information—let Thorne leak a decoy location for our 'main base' near River Fen. When they come to burn it…"
He tapped a rune stone placed on the map.
"…they'll find the Fen flooded. Mira's engineers have prepped the levee gates. Once Kellen's unit enters the kill zone, we drown the ravine and pick survivors off from above."
"Harsh," Mira muttered.
Alaric's voice was cold steel. "Tactical."
"Pack Three?" Kael asked.
Alaric's eyes narrowed.
"Warrick's personal guard. We don't lure them. We let them watch their brothers fall. The strongest enemy is the one who believes himself invincible. So we shatter his certainty."
Kael gave a sharp nod. "Divide the Pack. Break their will. Bleed their pride."
---
The First Bait – The Wounded Caravan
The next dawn, a ragged-looking Moonborn unit limped across the valley path—Alaric's gambit in motion. Cloaked in torn banners, wearing illusion-charms smeared in mud and blood, they played the part of survivors fleeing from a failed raid.
Scouts followed. The scent trail was intentional, messy, rushed.
Just enough to catch Garrin the Butcher's attention.
By dusk, the trap was sprung.
Garrin's pack tore through the trees, drunk on the promise of slaughter. They howled as they closed in—
—and the forest exploded.
Moonborn hidden in the trees loosed fire arrows. The glade perimeter ignited. Explosive charges laced in the moss detonated, collapsing escape routes with sudden landslides.
Alaric, hidden at the perimeter, watched through narrowing eyes as Garrin's wolves turned from hunters to prey—choked by flame and ash, their cries lost to roaring inferno.
He didn't flinch.
---
Second Gambit – River Fen
Meanwhile, at the River Fen, Kellen's elite scouts scouted the decoy base with overconfidence. They found Moonborn emblems, fresh campfires, the scent of musk and steel.
What they didn't know was that beneath the soil, Mira's engineers had already burrowed channels and planted detonation charges.
As Kellen gave the order to attack the "abandoned camp," Alaric, positioned on the northern ridge, raised a signal torch.
Boom.
The levees burst.
River Fen surged like a beast unleashed, swallowing the ravine in a matter of heartbeats. Kellen's wolves were pulled under, dragged through mud, water, and tangled reeds.
The survivors were met with arrows—and silence.
---
Evening After – Moonborn Camp
Alaric sat alone by the fire, exhaustion hanging on him like a second skin. Not from the battle, but from the burden. Every maneuver, every loss—even among the enemy—weighed on him.
Lira approached. "We broke two packs in one day. You should be celebrating."
"Celebration is for survivors," he murmured. "We're not there yet."
He turned toward the stars.
"Warrick will retaliate with something darker. I can feel it. The way the air tastes... the way the wind doesn't move. Something's coming."
Mira joined them, placing a rune-scroll on the table.
"We found signs of a ritual site. Dead Moonborn, branded with corrupted sigils. Blood magic."
Alaric's jaw tightened. "Then Phase Three must move faster than planned. I need to break Warrick before his shadow spreads."
He stood slowly, already planning.
"We divide the pack. Now we cut off the head."