The distant baying grew louder, sharp enough to cut through the mountain wind that bit through Kael's wool cloak and left frost crumbs clinging to the edges of his hood. He leaned his weight against a frost-crusted pine, his wrapped ankle throbbing in time with his pulse, the pine salve Marnie had slathered on it earlier wearing thin enough that every twitch sent a sharp stabbing pain up his calf. The air reeked of acrid camp smoke and pine resin, undercut by the burnt, starchy tang of the oat porridge the cook had burned for breakfast, and under that, the sharp metallic tang of fear drifting from the scrambling Wildwalkers behind him. Somewhere near the back of the camp, a small child sniffled, the sound quickly muffled by a parent's quiet shush, and Kael's chest tightened a little at the reminder of exactly what they were fighting to protect.
Mara stood three feet away, barking tight, sharp orders to the teams packing evacuation supplies, the chipped iron hoop earring in her left ear glinting every time she snapped her head to snap at a pair of recruits who'd dropped a sack of dried apples. Her knuckles were split and crusted with dried blood from prying open a frozen supply chest at dawn, and she kept tapping the hilt of her iron sword with one finger, a tell Kael had learned meant she was two seconds away from snapping at someone. Half the camp moved with frantic speed, shoving dried rations into canvas sacks and rolling scratchy wool blankets tight enough to fit three to a pack. The medic tent's flap flapped open and shut nonstop, Healer Marnie's sharp, no-nonsense voice cutting through the noise as she directed treatment for Joren's mangled leg, the one he'd gotten caught in a Covenant bear trap three days prior. They had eight hours until the midnight rescue launch, and less than twenty minutes before the incoming Covenant patrol's hounds picked up the camp's scent, if the scouts' reports were right.
"Patrol's two miles out, moving fast," Gareth said, skidding to a stop next to them, crossbow slung over his shoulder, a half-frozen piece of hardtack sticking out of the corner of his mouth. His cheeks were pink with cold, a streak of ash across his jaw, and there was a fresh rip in the elbow of his cloak that flapped in the wind. He spat a crumb of hardtack out before he kept talking, brushing snow off his leather breeches. "Hounds are leading the way, saw the big alpha with the torn ear we spotted last week out front. If they catch wind of the camp, they'll be on us before we can get half the supply packs hidden in the cave crevices."
Kael's gaze darted to the half-empty crates of medical supplies stacked by the medic tent. They were short on pine salve, short on bandages, short on almost everything they'd need to treat three villages worth of refugees on the run, half of whom were elderly or sick or small kids who'd get frostbite ten minutes into a cross-Wastes trek. If the patrol found them now, the rescue mission died before it even started, and every person in those three villages would be dead by dawn tomorrow, per Theron's purge order.
"Wait," he said, the thought clicking into place so fast he almost forgot the pain in his ankle, leaning forward so fast he nearly stumbled over his own bad leg. "Tracking hounds go for the strongest, fattest scent first, right? Ignore the faint general stuff if there's a brighter, more interesting trail to follow?"
Elara, who'd been staring west toward the patrol's direction, her crossbow loose in her hands, turned to him, one eyebrow raised, a strand of her dark braid falling loose in front of her face. "Yeah, but what good does that do us? The whole camp reeks of wood smoke and unwashed fighters and burnt porridge. There's no way to make a scent trail stronger than that, not with what we've got lying around."
"Back where I'm from, my uncle ran a dog shelter," Kael said, a faint, dry laugh escaping him, the memory of his uncle's drafty old shelter, full of barking dogs and the smell of peanut butter treats, popping into his head unbidden. He'd spent every summer there from age 12 to 18, mucking kennels and walking dogs and chasing down escapees that slipped through the fence. "We'd use leftover fatty table scraps to lure escaped dogs back before animal control showed up. Same principle. We lay a false scent trail leading away from the camp, the hounds will follow it instead of the camp's general smell. They won't even notice the camp scent if the trail we leave is strong enough."
Gareth blinked, staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "Your… dog shelter."
"Other world weirdness, remember?" Elara said, snorting a laugh that cut through the tight tension hanging over the group so sharp it felt like cutting a rope. It was the first light thing any of them had said in hours, warm and familiar enough to make Kael's chest loosen a little, the same laugh she'd had when they'd accidentally spilled hot cider all over each other at the Rusty Tankard a week prior. "It's stupid, but it works. Kael's stupid other world ideas usually do, even if they sound crazy when he first says them."
"Rude," Kael said, but he was grinning, swatting lightly at her arm. "We need something strong-smelling. Smoked meat fat, preferably. And the charred pelt of the shadow hound we dumped after we took out Voss's scouts. That will make it look like a small raider party killed their scouts and ran west with supplies, right? The Covenant will waste hours chasing that lead instead of looking for us."
Mara's sharp gaze narrowed, then she nodded once, tapping her sword hilt one last time before jerking her chin toward the cook tent. "There's a crate of smoked boar fat scraps by the cook tent, reserved for rations. Take it. And make this quick. If you're not back in thirty minutes, we send a search party armed with crossbows, and I won't be happy if I have to drag your frozen asses back here myself."
Elara grabbed Kael's arm as they turned toward the cook tent, her gloved fingers wrapping tight around his wrist, pulling him to the side for half a second so they were out of Mara's earshot. "There's an abandoned Covenant supply cache half a mile west of here, off the main game trail. I used to hide there as a kid when the patrols came through my village, me and Mia would sneak out there with stolen honey cakes and eat them until we were sick. If we lead the patrol straight to it, they'll waste hours searching for the raiders they think are hiding there. And it's probably got medical supplies. We've hit similar ones before, they're always stocked with salve and bandages for patrols running routes through the Wastes."
Perfect. That killed two birds with one stone: diverted the patrol, and solved half their supply gap for the evacuation. Kael grabbed the crate of fat scraps from the cook tent, slinging it over his good shoulder, the cold of the wooden crate seeping through his cloak to his skin, while Elara fished the charred hound pelt out of the waste pile by the perimeter trench, shaking snow off of it before slinging it over her own shoulder.
They headed west, Kael limping slightly on his wrapped ankle, frost crunching under their leather boots, the wind biting at his cheeks until his nose went numb. He could hear the hounds baying getting closer with every step, the sound echoing off the rocky slopes around them. Elara walked half a step ahead, her crossbow held loose and ready in her hands, her braid flapping in the wind, and when Kael's bad ankle caught on a frozen root and he nearly tripped, she grabbed his elbow to steady him, snickering.
"Clumsy," she said, grinning, pulling a crumpled piece of peppermint candy from her cloak pocket, breaking it in half and handing him one piece. It was stale, the sugar crystallized around the edges, but it was still sweet on his tongue when he popped it into his mouth. "Innkeeper gave it to me back at the Rusty Tankard. Saved it for a rainy day. Figured this counts."
"Your uncle's dog shelter," she said, glancing back at him a minute later, a faint smirk on her face, as Kael paused to dribble a handful of melted boar fat on the frost. "What's next? You gonna tell me you used to work at a pizza place and can make a pie out of Wastes moss and boar meat?"
"Hey, pizza would make this whole mission way easier," Kael said, laughing, pausing to rub his ankle for a second before he kept walking. "I'd use a whole pepperoni pie to lead those hounds to the other end of the continent if I could. Boar fat's a sad second, but it'll do. Pepperoni's this spicy cured meat, by the way. Tastes way better than the salted boar we eat every day."
"Now you're just making stuff up to torture me," Elara said, laughing, the sound bright against the cold wind. They dragged the charred hound pelt behind them, leaving a faint, acrid scent trail mixed with the rich, fatty smell of the boar grease. Every ten feet, they left a crumpled empty ration sack, stolen from Voss's scout pack, to sell the raider story, and Kael even left the half-eaten piece of peppermint candy wrapper he'd stuffed in his pocket earlier, for extra authenticity.
They were three quarters of the way to the cache when Kael heard it: a low, guttural snarl, too close, coming from the underbrush to his left.
He barely had time to turn before a shadow hound burst from the underbrush, its black eyes glinting, jaws wide open, reeking of rot and burnt flesh, aiming straight for his bad ankle.
Elara moved faster than he'd ever seen her move. She slammed her shoulder into his chest, shoving him hard backward into a snowdrift full of old pine needles that stuck to his hair and the collar of his cloak. The hound's jaws clamped down on her left forearm instead of his leg, its sharp teeth sinking through her leather glove and into her skin.
She grunted, kicking out hard with her boot, catching the hound square in the ribs hard enough that Kael heard a crack. It yelped, releasing its grip, and darted back into the trees, toward the sound of the approaching patrol's shouts that were now close enough to make out individual words.
Kael scrambled out of the snowdrift, his ankle screaming, and grabbed her arm, yanking her glove off to see the damage. The bite was deep, four puncture wells oozing dark, thick, inky fluid. Black veins were already creeping up her forearm, fast as ink spreading on paper, looking like spiderwebs under her pale, cold skin. She grit her teeth, her face going pale, and pressed her free hand hard against the wound to slow the bleeding.
"Crap," she gasped, her voice tight with pain, beads of sweat popping up on her forehead despite the cold. "Healing stat's capped at 3. Can't break through to purge the toxin. We've got maybe eight minutes before it reaches my heart."
Panic clawed at Kael's throat for half a beat before he remembered. He had three Augment Points left, enough to boost her healing stat temporarily, just enough to fight off the toxin. The rule against augmenting others without consent bounced through his head, and he grabbed her face with both hands, his cold gloves pressing against her warm cheeks, his heart hammering so hard he could hear it in his ears.
"Trust me?" he said, his voice sharp with urgency.
She didn't hesitate. She nodded once, her eyes bright with pain but steady, no flicker of doubt in them. "Always."
He pulled up his stat screen, focusing on her healing attribute, and poured one Augment Point into it. The counter dropped from 3 to 2, and he saw the numbers next to her healing stat jump from 3 to 7, glowing bright blue for ten seconds before fading. He could feel a warm tingle flow from his chest down his arms to his hands, where they were still pressed to her face, and Elara gasped, her whole body going rigid for a second, then she relaxed.
"Feels like drinking hot spiced cider," she mumbled, blinking, as the black veins creeping up her arm slowed, then receded, fading back into her pale skin. The puncture wounds on her forearm scabbed over fast, the oozing dark fluid drying up, leaving only faint purple bruising around the edges. She flexed her fingers, rolling her shoulder, then looked up at him, a faint, disbelieving laugh escaping her. "Holy shit. That worked. I didn't even know you could do that to other people."
"Only if you ask," Kael said, grinning, relief flooding through him so strong his knees went weak for a second, and he leaned against a nearby tree to catch his breath. "Come on. We're almost to the cache, and the patrol's right behind that stray hound. We don't have time to stand around."
They ran the last quarter mile, Kael's ankle throbbing but bearable, and skidded to a stop in front of the cache: a weathered iron door set into the side of a rocky outcrop, half-hidden by frost-covered ivy, with a tiny scratch mark carved into the metal at eye level. Elara pointed at it, grinning, as Kael jammed his dagger into the lock, twisting hard until the metal gave with a loud snap. "Carved that when I was 12. There's a tiny heart next to it I carved for this village boy I had a crush on. The Covenant took him when he was 15, said his magic stat was too high for a low-cap villager."
The door creaked open, and they both stared, wide-eyed, at the stockpile inside.
The cache was fully stocked, floor to ceiling. Crates of pine salve stacked against the back wall, bundles of linen bandages tied with twine, canteens of purified water, even a few sacks of dried fruit and hardtack rations, and a stack of soft fur blankets perfect for the village kids who'd be out in the cold during the evacuation. Tucked in the corner were a few small jars of wild honey, the kind Marnie used to soothe sore throats in sick kids, and Elara grabbed those first, shoving them into her pack with a grin. "Mia's in charge of the kids during the evacuation. She's gonna lose her mind when she sees these."
Kael grabbed two crates of salve, shoving them into his pack, while Elara stuffed as many bandages as she could carry into her cloak pockets. They filled every empty space in their bags with supplies, their movements fast and frantic, while the sound of the patrol's shouts and the hounds' baying grew closer, until they were right outside the cache door.
They heard the hounds hit the end of the scent trail ten feet from the cache entrance, baying loud and excited, and Elara pressed her hand over Kael's mouth to muffle his laugh when a patrol member tripped over a root and swore loud enough to echo off the rock walls. A man's voice, deep and gruff, shouted orders a second later: "Spread out! The raiders are nearby, they couldn't have gotten far! Search the whole valley, check every cave and crevice!"
Kael and Elara exchanged a wide, grinning look. Perfect. The patrol was fully diverted, following the false trail straight to the cache, away from the Wildwalker camp. They'd spend hours searching the surrounding hills for raiders that didn't exist, and by the time they realized they'd been tricked, the midnight evacuation would be well underway, all three villages emptied long before the patrol got anywhere near them.
They slipped out the back of the cache through a narrow crevice Elara knew about, so tight Kael had to turn sideways to fit, his pack scraping against the rock as he squeezed through. They looped north along the hidden mountain path that only the Wildwalkers used, the one the Covenant had never mapped, the wind at their backs now, carrying the sound of the patrol's shouting away from them. Kael's ankle had settled to a dull throb instead of the sharp stabbing pain of earlier, and they stopped for two minutes halfway up the path to catch their breath, looking out over the Wastes, painted pink and orange by the setting sun, the three tiny sector 7 villages visible in the distance, small plumes of smoke rising from their chimneys.
"Your stupid dog shelter idea just saved the whole camp," Elara said, laughing quietly as they climbed the last stretch of path back toward the camp, shoving his shoulder lightly so he stumbled, catching himself on a rocky outcrop. "And got us enough medical supplies to treat all three villages. Remind me to stop making fun of your other world weirdness."
"Nah, keep making fun of it," Kael said, grinning, brushing snow off his cloak. "Just admit that pizza would've worked better."
She snorted, shoving him again, and he laughed, the sound echoing off the rocks around them. For a second, the weight of the purge order, the patrol, the eight hour deadline, all felt a little lighter, like they might actually pull this off.
They made it back to the camp thirty two minutes after they left, Mara pacing the perimeter by the entrance, her hand on the hilt of her sword, looking like she was two seconds from leading the search party herself. Her eyes went wide when she saw the bulging packs on their shoulders, the crates of salve sticking out of Kael's bag, and she let out a rare, tight smile, stepping forward to run a hand over the top of a salve crate.
"You did it," she said, sounding half surprised, half relieved. "The patrol?"
"Fully diverted west," Elara said, dumping the bandages onto the supply stack by the medic tent, pulling the jars of honey out of her bag to hand to Marnie when the healer rushed over. "They're searching the old cache and the surrounding valley. They won't be anywhere near the villages for at least four hours, and they won't find the camp at all."
Healer Marnie's face lit up so bright it looked like she might cry, hugging Elara so tight she grunted, before she started hauling the crates of salve into the medic tent. "This is exactly what we needed. We