Chapter Fifty-One: The Orell Counterstrike

Chapter Fifty-One: The Orell Counterstrike
The smell of blood still clung to Faith’s skin. It wasn’t hers. It was the copper-thick scent of enemy wolves, of torn flesh and open earth, and it coated the battlefield like a second moonlight  silvered and red. She stood at the edge of the northern border where the clash had begun hours ago, muscles trembling, mind still locked in the rhythm of the fight.

The pack moved around her in ragged silence, tending to the wounded, hauling the dead into rows. The air was heavy with exhaustion, but underneath, Faith could feel it the hum of danger hadn’t faded. The enemy hadn’t retreated in defeat. They’d retreated in strategy.

David came up beside her, his wolf’s eyes still glowing faintly, the curve of his jaw tight with unspoken fury. His presence was a tether, but even his heat couldn’t melt the frost crawling up her spine.

“They’ll strike again,” she said, voice low.

He didn’t argue. “Sooner than they think we can recover.”

They had barely reached the gates of Rainfall when the alarm sounded. A howl not of pain, but of warning rolled over the trees like a living thing. Faith’s head snapped toward the southern line, the direction of the food stores and the pack’s supply sheds.

David didn’t wait for orders; he moved. Faith followed without thought, her wolf still pacing beneath her skin. They ran together, their strides matched, the pounding of their feet and hearts one rhythm until they burst through the last stretch of trees.

And there it was the Orell Pack, moving through Rainfall’s supply area with terrifying precision. Not a chaotic raid, but a surgical strike. Two wolves took down a storehouse guard in unison, while others set fire to the roof, smoke curling into the late-night sky.

“Kill the fires!” David barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. Warriors surged forward to obey, but the Orell wolves were fast, retreating in tight, controlled movements, leaving behind destruction that would take weeks to repair.

Faith’s gaze locked on a shadow slipping toward her through the haze. A wolf massive, fur black as the new moon darted for her flank. She shifted mid-step, the world snapping into sharper detail as her wolf took over, muscles rippling as she leapt sideways. The enemy’s teeth missed her by inches, snapping through air.

David was suddenly there, slamming into the black wolf with a growl that rattled the ground. The two went down hard, claws and teeth tearing through fur and flesh in a blur. Faith started forward to help and that’s when she saw it.

A glint of silver.

Another wolf emerged from the smoke, a dagger strapped to its foreleg. Faith shouted David’s name, but the warning came too late. The blade flashed as the second wolf lunged, catching David across the side. The sound he made half snarl, half gasp froze her blood.

He turned on the attacker with a fury that ended in a crunch of bone and a whimper from the dying wolf. But the damage was done. Silver sank deep into his flesh, just above his hip, and the wound already smoked faintly.

Faith’s wolf surged forward, shoving her toward him. She caught him just as his legs buckled. His weight was heavy, almost unbearable, but she refused to let him fall to the dirt.

“David…”Her voice cracked, the metallic scent of his blood filling her nose.

“Keep fighting,” he rasped, but his breath was ragged. She could feel the tremor in his body, the heat of his blood soaking into her hands.

Warriors formed a circle around them, holding back the Orell wolves as the last of them retreated into the shadows of the forest. The battle was over at least this one but the victory felt hollow.

When the final howl of retreat faded, Faith realized the pack had gone silent. Every eye was on her, on David, on the Alpha who was swaying in her arms. The weight of their stares pressed in as the truth set in if David couldn’t stand, Rainfall stood on a knife’s edge.

“Get him to the healers,” someone said.

“No,” Faith snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the air. “The healers will slow it. This is silver.”

She didn’t wait for approval. She hooked her arm under his and pulled him with her, step by grinding step toward the heart of Rainfall. The bond between them pulsed hard, hot, insistent, the tether of his life threaded through her own heartbeat. She didn’t care that her legs shook, didn’t care that her claws were still half-extended. She only cared that he was still breathing.

They reached their chamber and Faith shouldered open the door, dragging him inside. The moment she eased him onto the bed, he tried to push up, but the movement sent a grimace across his face.

“Faith, I can…”

“You can’t,” she said, steel in her tone. “And if you try, I’ll knock you out myself.”

His lips twitched faintly, the ghost of a smirk, but pain wiped it away just as quickly.

Faith tore his shirt open to see the wound. The cut was deep, the edges blackened by silver’s burn, and every instinct in her screamed at the sight. Silver didn’t just poison the flesh it tried to kill the wolf inside.

Her mind spun. Elder Nareen’s teachings whispered at the edges of her thoughts, ancient remedies half-forgotten. She’d need more than herbs for this. She’d need him to survive the night first.

David’s hand caught her wrist, grip weak but stubborn. “Don’t… panic.”

She met his gaze, and something passed between them not comfort, but a vow.

“I’m not panicking,” she said. “I’m getting you through this.”

He gave a short, pained chuckle, then winced. “Bossy.”

She almost smiled, but the sound of voices outside cut the moment short. Warriors were shouting, arguing over whether the Orell Pack would strike again before dawn.

Faith brushed the hair back from David’s forehead, her fingers trembling. The night was far from over.

And somewhere in the forest, she knew Divine was smiling.