The forest engulfed the sound of their escape from Damien and his crew; the camp flames were distant crackles in the background. They moved fast, sticking to the shadows as the echoes of shouts and chaos on the wind cut through. Their success weighed heavy on the mission on Damien's shoulders.
"How long do you think we have before they organize a counterattack?" Amara asked, matching her pace to his.
"A day, at most," Damien replied, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. "If Reynard's forces are anything like they were in my past… they'll respond faster than we'd like."
Amara gave him a sidelong look. "Then we make our next move before they have a chance to regroup."
Damien nodded. "Agreed. We must keep them on their toes."
Behind them, the soldiers were silent, their faces grim but resolute. Every victory came with its cost-exhaustion etched into their features, the unspoken grief of fallen comrades lingering in their eyes. Damien knew well enough that his men's morale was heavily slanted by his style of command, and he bore the weight to his grave.
"We stop here," Damien said, pausing amidst jagged rocks surrounding the clearing. "We need to rest and plan our next move."
The soldiers quickly set up a makeshift camp, efficient and yet quiet. Damien turned to Amara, already going over the map they took from Reynard's officer.
"Next camp?" he asked.
She ran her finger across the parchment. "Here," she said, tracing the tip of her finger to a spot near the edge of a wide river. "If we hit it we'll break one of Reynard's main supply routes. But closer to his main forces. More danger."
Damien studied the map, weighing their options. "We can't risk losing this. If we back off and give him an opening, Reynard will come out on top."
"Well, you're certainly sounding very cocky for someone who just blew up two camps," Amara teased with a tilt of her head.
"It's not cockiness," Damien said with a firm tone. "It's necessity."
As the camp settled in for the night, Damien took the opportunity to speak with his soldiers. Moving between the men, he offered words of encouragement, checking on their injuries and listening to their concerns.
"These men trust you," Amara said, watching him from the edge of the campfire.
"They trust what we're fighting for," Damien replied, taking a seat beside her.
She raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "Don't sell yourself short. They've seen you lead from the front. That kind of loyalty doesn't come easy."
Damien continued to stare into the fire, the dance of flames in his steel-gray eyes. "If I can give them reason to fight, to believe that this kingdom can be saved… then it is worth it."
For a moment, Amara did not speak. Then she settled back against the nearby rock, her voice so soft. "You carry so much, Damien. Don't let it break you."
He looked at her, distracted by the weight of her sincerity. "I thought you liked the challenge."
"I do," she said and a faint smirk returned. "But even the sturdiest need someone to share the burden.".
Damien smiled, a small smile he allowed himself. "That's your show of support, isn't it?"
"Don't get used to it," Amara said, though her voice was warm.
---
It was an early morning when the group broke camp and marched toward the next target. The forest grew denser as they advanced toward Reynard's heartland, its air filled with the scent of rain.
"We have to cross the river," Damien said, studying the map as they reached the water's edge. The water ran fast, and the rickety bridge ahead looked precarious at best.
Amara crouched beside him, inspecting the structure. "It's not ideal, but it'll hold if we move carefully."
Then we move in pairs," Damien said, turning to the soldiers. "Stay sharp. If Reynard's scouts are nearby, we'll be vulnerable here.".
They moved into the bridge, crossing it with caution. The creaking of wood and the crashing of water was everywhere as each step was a ghastly balance of movement and danger.
Amara led the way by planting her feet on the other side, her keen eyes surveying down the forest path ahead. Damien waited behind them, his sword out for him as he awaited the others to cross.
And just as the last couple stepped on to the bridge, a sudden noise which shook the stillness came. The crack sharp and the whistling of an arrow clanged through the air.
"Amara!" shouted Damien now wielding his sword at the first apoplectic burst of shooting imprecation of arrows.
---
The forest literally blew up in mayhem, with Reynard's scouts tumbling out of the trees, greatbows extended, scimitars shining. Damien's men scrambled for cover, their return fire pouring in as the enemy closed in.
She was moving like a shadow, daggers flashing as she darted between the attackers. One scout lunged at her, but she sidestepped with ease, driving her blade into his side before she vanished into the underbrush.
Damien fought with precision, his sword slicing through the chaos. Each thrust was planned with care, not intended to kill, but simply to maim.
" Hold the line! " he shouted aloud, urging the soldiers on.
The unit formed a perimeter, shields overlapping shields to push back against the onslaught. Arrows thudded into this makeshift barrier, but they held firm.
"We're outnumbered," Amara said, stepping out beside Damien. "We should move before more of them arrive."
"Agreed," Damien said, backing a few steps. "Fall back to the ridge. We can regroup there."
The soldiers began to retreat in formation, their movements strict, orderly, despite the chaos. Damien and Amara remained at the back, covering their retreat as the enemy closed in.
----
As they crested the ridge, the scouts retreated, their ambush foiled. Damien's group was bloodied but alive, unbroken.
"That was close," Amara said, wiping blood from her daggers.
"It won't be the last time," Damien said, his gaze scanning the forest below.
Aldric, who had taken a defensive position on the ridge, approached them, his expression grim. "They're testing us. Reynard knows we're here."
"Let him," Damien said, his voice glacial. "Every attack he wastes on us is a win."
Aldric nodded, though his concern lingered. "What's the next play?"
"We push forward," Damien said. "The closer we get to Reynard, the more desperate he'll be. That's when he'll slip. End"
"And if he doesn't?" Amara asked.
"Then we'll create them for him," Damien said.
---
With the arrival of night and some rest, the group set a temporary camp, they patched up their wounds, gritted up their spirits. Beside the fire sat Amara, sharpening her daggers, as Damien joined her.
"Okay, you were right," he said after a long silence.
"About?" she asked, continuing to work.
"About needing someone to share the burden."
Amara stopped and raised her eyes to meet his. "You don't have to do this alone, Damien. No one can."
He nodded, a faint smile upon his lips. "Thanks."
Amara tipped her head, her smug look returning. "Careful, you're starting to sound sentimental."
"Don't get used to it," said the reminder with lightness in pitch but grateful.
Like hiss of twigs on the fire before them, the storm clouds above cracked. Light drizzle fell over their camp. For a moment, Damien thought he had renewed life inside.
The rebellion was far from finished; this time, he was not alone in the fight.