As Kane stumbled back into the safety of their hidden enclave, his vision blurred, and his body finally succumbed to the exhaustion and pain that had been tearing at him since the escape. With a heavy thud, he collapsed to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the dirt.
Oracle Elara, who had been anxiously waiting for his return, gasped as she saw Kane's body crumple. Her heart skipped a beat, and she rushed forward, her hands trembling. "Help! Get him inside, now!" she cried out, her voice tinged with urgency. Several nearby werewolves sprang into action, lifting Kane's limp form as carefully as they could, though the sight of their leader in such a state sent a ripple of fear through them all.
They carried him into the largest cabin, laying him down on a bed. Elara quickly began to examine his wounds, her face paling as she uncovered the extent of the damage. Deep gashes crisscrossed his chest and arms, and his breathing was shallow, labored. She placed her hands on his chest, closing her eyes and summoning her healing abilities, trying to stabilize him. "By the moon," she murmured, "how did you survive this, Kane?"
The others in the room exchanged uneasy glances, the air thick with tension. They could see the severity of Kane's injuries and knew it was a miracle he had made it back at all. They began to whisper among themselves, the atmosphere growing more somber with each passing moment.
Over the next few days, Kane lay unconscious, his body slowly mending under Elara's careful watch. The news of his return and the state he was in spread quickly through the camp, heightening the already present anxiety among the werewolves. When Kane finally began to stir, it was as if a collective breath was held, waiting for his awakening.
On the morning Kane regained consciousness, his head was pounding, and his body felt like it was on fire. He groaned softly, the sound enough to alert the guards outside his room, who immediately informed Elara. The Oracle rushed to his side, her expression a mix of relief and concern.
"You're awake," Elara said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don't try to move too much, Kane. You're still badly injured."
Kane nodded weakly, his mind foggy but gradually clearing. Memories of the battle, of his men's last stand, flooded back, causing his heart to ache. He took a deep breath, trying to push the pain aside.
Before he could fully gather his thoughts, the door to his room swung open, and several of his followers' families rushed in, their faces etched with worry. The wife of one of his fallen men, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes that were now red and puffy from crying, stepped forward.
"Kane… where are they?" she asked, her voice quivering. "Where is my husband? Where are our sons?"
Kane's face twisted with anguish, his heart breaking all over again. He looked away, unable to meet their eyes as the weight of their losses pressed down on him. He struggled to find the words, his throat tightening. "They… they fought bravely," he finally managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. "They gave their lives… to make sure I could get back to you all. I'm so sorry."
The room erupted into a chorus of cries and wails, the families collapsing into each other as the full realization of their loss hit them. Some of the men cursed the humans, their voices filled with venom and rage. "Those filthy, deceitful humans!" one of the older men shouted. "We should march back there and tear them apart, make them pay for what they've done!"
Several others echoed his sentiment, their anger boiling over. "We can't just sit here and do nothing!" another man yelled. "We need to avenge them, Kane! We need to show those bastards they can't just kill our brothers and get away with it!"
Kane, despite the pain coursing through his body, forced himself to sit up, his expression stern and commanding. "No," he said, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Now is not the time for vengeance."
The room quieted, though the tension was still palpable. Kane continued, his gaze hardening as he spoke. "We're at a disadvantage. Their numbers far outweigh ours, and they're better armed. If we attack them now, we'll be walking into a slaughter. I won't throw away more lives recklessly."
"But we can't just do nothing!" the older man protested, though his voice was less certain now.
Kane shook his head. "I'm not saying we won't make them pay," he said, his tone steely. "But we need to be smart about it. Our first priority is survival. This place is no longer safe. If they found us once, they can find us again. We need to leave, find a new place to regroup. Once we're secure, we can start planning our next move."
Elara, who had been quietly observing, nodded in agreement. "Kane is right," she said, stepping forward. "We can't afford to act on impulse. We need to protect the pack first. Then, when the time is right, we'll strike back. And we'll do it in a way that ensures we win."
The room was silent for a moment as the others considered her words. Finally, one of the younger werewolves, a voice of reason amidst the turmoil, spoke up. "Kane and Elara are right. We need to think of the bigger picture. Revenge won't bring our loved ones back, but it could cost more lives if we're not careful."
Slowly, the anger in the room began to subside, replaced by a grim determination. The families nodded, their grief still raw but tempered by the need for caution.
Kane, feeling the strain of the conversation, leaned back against the pillows, his energy nearly spent. "We'll leave tonight," he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. "Gather only what you need. We move quickly and quietly. We'll find a new place, and once we're settled, we'll plan our revenge. But until then, we survive."
The others began to file out of the room, murmuring among themselves as they prepared to follow Kane's orders. Elara lingered for a moment, her eyes filled with concern as she looked at Kane. "You need to rest," she said gently. "Let us handle the preparations."
Kane nodded, too tired to argue. As Elara left, closing the door softly behind her, he closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over him. But even as sleep claimed him, his mind was already turning over plans for the future, determined that the sacrifices of his men would not be in vain.
Later that night, under the cover of darkness, the pack gathered what little they could carry and began their journey. The forest was thick and treacherous, the paths winding and often blocked by dense underbrush. Every crack of a twig or rustle of leaves set their nerves on edge, but they pressed on, driven by the need to find safety.
Kane, though still weak, led them as best as he could, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. The journey was arduous, with steep climbs and narrow passes that left them breathless and weary, but they didn't stop. There was no room for hesitation, not when the threat of the humans loomed so close behind them.
By the time the human soldiers arrived at their old camp, the werewolves were long gone. The soldiers searched the abandoned cabins, kicking over furniture and cursing loudly when they realized their prey had slipped through their fingers once again. "Damn it!" one of the soldiers spat, his face twisted in frustration. "We were too late."
Another soldier, older and more seasoned, surveyed the empty camp with a scowl. "They're clever, I'll give them that," he muttered. "But they can't run forever. We'll find them. And when we do…" He didn't need to finish the sentence; the threat was clear.
But for now, the werewolves had escaped, their journey toward a new beginning just beginning. And though the road ahead was uncertain and fraught with danger, Kane knew one thing for sure: they would survive. And when the time came, they would make their enemies pay for every drop of blood spilled.