Chapter 13
The training
I watched with an eagle's eye as my warriors engaged in a whirlwind of activity, their muscles rippling beneath their skin, their movements swift and precise.
I gave orders, my voice harsh and demanding, my commands a drill sergeant's chant.
"Sprint, jump, climb!" he roared. "Your enemies will not wait for you to catch your breath! Show me your speed!"
My warriors surged forward, their feet pounding against the ground, their hearts racing with adrenaline.
I observed as sweat dripped from their brows, their bodies shone in the afternoon sun as they pushed themselves to their limits, their grunts and groans a signal of effort.
I smiled, my eyes alight with satisfaction. "Now, let me test your strength," I growled, my voice deep and rough.
I made them form a circle, their muscles tensed as they pushed and pulled against each other in a contest of brute force. I perceived the thick air with the scent of sweat and enjoyed the sound of toil and triumph they made.
As time passed they fell to the ground One by one, their bodies shaking with tiredness, their breaths ragged and harsh. But I was not satisfied.
"One more round," I barked, my voice a lash against their flesh. "There are no excuses in battle, my warriors! Show me your stamina!"
I charged them, causing them to rise to their feet, their will fortified against the pain, their bodies gushing with one last burst of energy.
I observed the two warriors at the center of the circle as their bodies collided with the force of two warring titans, the ground shaking beneath their feet.
My eyes narrowed, my lips twisting into a feral grin as I watched the procession unfold.
"Finish him!" I shouted, my voice a roar of approval.
I stood at the edge of the training field, my eyes scanning the warriors as they fought with a strength that filled me with pride, with a fierce, unyielding joy.
Watching them clash and parry, their swords a blur of steel and sweat, their muscles rippling with each strike, their faces twisted into snarls of determination made me happy and I enjoyed it.
With a savage cry, one of the Lycans pounced forward, his teeth bared, his claws slashing through the air.
I stared at the other Lycan to know his moves, he staggered, his eyes wide with fear, his body crumbling to the ground.
The victorious Lycan raised his hands in triumph, his chest heaving with the toil, his eyes wild with the thrill of victory.
As I watched from where I was, I was impressed with the Lycan's performances. I stepped forward, my hand resting on the Lycan's shoulder, my voice a purr of approval.
"Well done," I said, my lips curving into a smile. "You have proven your strength, your skill." I commended him.
My voice grew quiet, my gaze sweeping across the ring. "Our enemies are cunning, their tactics crafty and devious.
"We must be not only strong but clever as well. We must use our wits as weapons, our minds as shields."
My voice rose once more, my words a rallying cry.
"You will each be given a challenge," I told them. "A puzzle to solve, a strategy to devise. Only the most cunning, the most resourceful, will survive.
"The clock is ticking. Begin!"
I looked around, monitoring the Lycans as they scattered like crows, their minds racing, their eyes scanning the landscape for the clues that would lead them to victory.
In the shadows of the trees, I saw a warrior as he moved towards a flash of light, a path of breadcrumbs that seemed to lead deeper into the forest.
With a growl, the Lycan thrust forward, his feet tearing up the underbrush as he chased after the elusive prize. He disappeared from my sight as I focused on another Lycan.
He prowled the border of the camp, his nostrils flaring as he moved forward.
With a snarl, he began to track the scent, his instincts pulling him towards the source.
Suddenly, a shout rang out across the camp, a cry of triumph that sliced through the silence like a blade.
I turned my eyes, together with other Lycans towards the source of the shout, my body tensed with anticipation.
It was the Lycan who had pursued the path of breadcrumbs, his face flushed with triumph as he held aloft a small leather pouch, its contents jingling in the sunlight.
I stepped forward, my eyes sparkling with approval. "Well done," I said, my voice full of admiration.
Observing how weak the Lycans had become, I called out to them, gathering them around the fire, the flames dancing in the cool evening air. The realization of a missing warrior as they gathered hit me like a punch to the gut.
My eyes swept the crowd, my voice low and dangerous. "One of us is missing," I growled, my eyes looking around in search of him. "A warrior who should be here, among us."
A silence fell over the camp as the Lycans exchanged glances, their unease growing like a virus among them.
"Where is Roderick?" a Lycan ventured, his voice low, his eyes wide with fear.
None of them had an idea of where Roderick was. They looked at each other in wonder as they checked among themselves.
We began a search in earnest, the Lycans fanning out across the camp, their steps urgent and swift as they scoured the landscape for any sign of their missing brother-in-arms. I walked quietly behind them.
The deeper we ventured into the forest, the thicker the shadows became the darkness enveloping them like a cover of smoke.
"Roderick!" we cried, our voices echoing through the trees, a haunting chorus of urgency and fear.
But the forest remained silent, its secrets held tightly to its chest, its silence a deafening roar in our ears.
In the distance, the cry of a wolf pierced the night, its cry a chilling reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.
My brow furrowed, my nostrils flaring as I caught a familiar scent on the breeze. I walked swiftly to the location where the cry came from.
My eyes narrowed, my feathers rising as a primal instinct took hold of me, my body tensing as I caught sight of a trail of blood snaking through the underbrush.
"There," I growled, pointing into the darkness. "Roderick was there."
As I neared the body, the scent of blood hung heavy in the air, its coppery tang a signal of the violence that had befallen Roderick.
My nostrils flared, my eyes burning with a feral intensity as I leaned down to inspect the body.
The wounds were deep and brutal, the flesh torn and messed up, the skin pale and cold to the touch.
I lifted his head, my eyes hard and fierce as I surveyed the scene, my voice a low rumble of rage. "Was Roderick attacked by a wolf?" I wondered.
My fingers traced the jagged line of the scratch, my eyes narrowing as I noted the odd, almost deliberate pattern of the wound.
I straightened up, my hands on my hips as I considered the scene before me, my mind racing with possibilities.
"This scratch," I muttered, my voice low and thoughtful. "It's not the mark of an animal, but of somethingā¦else."
My eyes scanned the forest but found nothing. I called out for two warriors to come and lift the unconscious Roderick.
My voice rang out through the forest, my command of a knife that sliced through the silence.
"The training is over for today," I declared, my eyes dark and fierce as I surveyed the assembled warriors. "Return to your dens, your mates, your families. But be wary, for the shadows hold secrets that may threaten us all."
There was a bit of silence after I spoke, a lingering reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond the reach of their senses.
With a single, firm nod, I dismissed the warriors, their faces pale and drawn as they hefted the limp body of Roderick onto their shoulders and disappeared into the darkness of the forest.
I stood alone at the camp, my muscles tensed, my nostrils flaring as I surveyed the scene with a predatory intensity.
"This was no ordinary wolf," I muttered, my voice low and dangerous. "There's more to this attack than meets the eye."
In the quiet of the forest, I stood alone, my thoughts swirling like leaves in the wind, the stillness of the night heavy with the weight of his concerns.
I let my senses unfurl, my eyes straining to pierce the shadows, hears pricked for the slightest whisper of sound.
The forest was silent, save for the rustle of leaves and the hoot of an owl.
I felt the presence of something more, a shadow that lurked just beyond the veil of his senses.
As I moved deeper into the forest, my steps slow and cautious, the sounds grew louder, the rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs echoing through the darkness like a whispered warning.
My muscles tensed, my fingers curling around the hilt of his dagger as he crept forward, his senses on high alert.
The moonlight danced across the landscape, illuminating the shadows in a wash of silver and gray, and there, in the distance, I caught sight of movement, a flash of fur and clawed feet.
My pulse quickened, my heart beating a staccato rhythm against my ribs as I approached the source of the noise, my voice a low, warning growl.
"Show yourself," I demanded, his words echoing through the forest, a gauntlet thrown down in the face of the unseen foe.
The forest fell silent, the creatures of the night hushed in reverence as they sensed the impending confrontation.