Chapter 104 WAR LEFT SCARS
Third Person POV
Silence came after the war, but it was not peace. The ground was covered with bodies, broken weapons, and blood. Blood Moon fighters moved slowly, some limping, some crying, some staring at nothing. The air smelled of iron and smoke.
“Where is Trent?” someone asked.
No one answered because no one even knew the answer to that question. Everyone was spent, broken and totally not in the mood for small talks. War had taken a lot from them and it showed on their faces.
Derek pushed through the injured, his hands shaking. “Trent!” he shouted. “Trent, answer me!”
A healer stepped in front of him and lowered his eyes. “Derek… don’t.”
Derek shoved past him and stopped. Trent lay on the ground, his chest still, his eyes half open. Blood had soaked through his clothes and into the dirt beneath him.
“No,” Derek whispered. “No, get up. You’re fine.”
He grabbed Trent’s shoulder and shook him. “Get up!”
“He’s gone,” the healer said quietly.
Derek stared at Trent’s face. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Around them, voices broke into sobs. “We lost him…”
“He didn’t make it…”
“Trent is dead…”
Derek fell to his knees. “This is my fault,” he said. “I should have stayed with him.”
No one argued and even though it was no one’s fault, it was much easier to blame yourself especially on something you had no control over.
Nearby, a sharp cry cut through the grief.
“Amber!”
Derek’s head snapped up. “What’s wrong now?”
“She’s in pain,” a woman said urgently. “Bad pain.”
Amber lay on a blanket, her face tight, her body shaking. Sweat covered her skin.
“It hurts,” Amber gasped. “Something’s wrong.”
The healer rushed over. He pressed a hand to her stomach.
“She’s going into labor,” he said.
“What?” Derek said. “Now?”
Amber cried out again, louder this time. “I can’t stop it!”
“We’re not ready,” another voice said. “She’s hurt. She lost too much blood.”
Derek moved closer, fear replacing grief. “Amber, look at me. You’re going to be okay.”
She grabbed his arm hard. “It’s too early,” she said. “It’s happening anyway.”
Another cry tore from her throat.
“Clear space!” the healer ordered. “We need water. Clean cloth. Now!”
Blood Moon fighters scrambled, their misery turning into panic.
“This day won’t end,” someone whispered.
Derek looked around at the camp. Fires burned low. Wounded wolves groaned. Children cried quietly, no one celebrated surviving. Everyone looked broken even as the loss of Trent sat heavy on them all. He had fought until the end, and now he was gone. Derek bowed his head and closed his eyes. He did not know how to mourn and lead at the same time. He only knew the night was far from over.
Behind him, Amber screamed again. The sound cut through everything, death and birth collided at the same moment. No one spoke and no one moved. The war had taken Trent, and now it was forcing life into the world without mercy.
Derek stayed where he was, frozen, listening, knowing nothing would ever be the same again for any of them. The war was not done, and neither was the suffering that followed it into the dark. Everyone felt it, deep inside, and waited for what pain would come next. No one believed morning would bring relief or answers. Only more loss.
Amber screamed until her voice broke. Her hands clawed at the blanket as pain tore through her body. The healer stayed between her legs, giving sharp orders.
“Push when I tell you!” he said.
“I can’t!” Amber cried. “It hurts too much!”
“You have to,” the woman beside her said. “Listen to him!”
Derek stood a few steps away, useless. Blood covered Amber’s legs. His hands shook worse than they had during the war.
“She’s losing too much blood,” the healer warned.
“Save her,” Derek said. “Do whatever you have to.”
Amber gasped for air. “Derek… if something happens…”
“Don’t,” he said quickly. “Don’t say it.”
Another wave of pain hit her.
“Now!” the healer shouted. “Push now!”
Amber screamed and pushed. Her body trembled violently.
“I see the head,” the healer said. “Keep going!”
Outside the tent, voices argued. “We should leave.”
“She won’t survive this.”
“We can’t lose her too.”
Inside, time dragged.
Amber collapsed back, crying weakly. “I’m so tired.”
“I know,” the woman said. “Stay with us.”
Derek moved closer. “I’m here.”
Another push just as another scream followed, then a sound cut through the pain.
A baby cried and for a moment, no one spoke.
“It’s alive,” the healer said softly.
Amber sobbed. “Is it okay?”
The healer hesitated. He looked down, then away.
“The baby is breathing,” he said. “But weak.”
Derek’s chest tightened. “And Amber?”
Before anyone could answer, Amber gasped sharply. Her body went still.
“Amber!” Derek shouted.
The healer pressed his hands hard against her. “She’s fading!”
“Do something!” Derek yelled.
“We’re trying!”
The baby cried again, thin and fragile.
“We can’t stop the bleeding,” the healer said. “I’m sorry.”
Derek dropped to his knees. “No… not her too.”
Amber’s eyes fluttered open for a second. She looked at Derek, then toward the sound of the baby.
“My child,” she whispered.
Her hand slipped from Derek’s grasp.
Silence filled the tent even as Derek handed the baby to Amber as he watched her pet the baby, whispering small words to him.
Outside, the camp stood quiet. Trent was dead and a newborn cried in the dark.
The war had taken everything and left nothing untouched.
No one celebrated the birth, no one smiled. The baby was wrapped and held carefully. Loss filled every corner. Derek sat on the ground, empty, knowing leadership would not save him from grief.
Outside, warriors whispered names of the dead even as the fires burned low again. The Spirit Pack victory echoed in silence. Life had come too soon and at the worst time.
Derek finally stood. He looked at the child once, then away. Tomorrow, the war would continue, and the pain would follow.
No one slept that night just as every breath felt heavy and every future felt uncertain and cruel. The camp waited for morning, knowing it would not bring comfort. The war had crossed a line, taking lives and forcing birth through pain. Nothing would be the same again, for the pack or the child. Grief ruled the night, and hope felt small and distant. No one
spoke of victory anymore, only survival remained.
Alone.
AFTER HEAVY LOSS