Chapter 43 The Battle's Over

Chapter 43 The Battle's Over
Bram

I sink against the stone, muscles sore from the fight, lungs still heaving from the sprint through the forest. Outside, the night is quiet. The snarls and chaos of Blue Raven have vanished. They retreated at our last stand, pushed back by Lyra’s plan in the caves–and the stubborn unity of Song Pack. 

Even now, my mind drifts back to the silver she-wolf, the one guarding Kaelen with teeth bared and eyes of deep blue. She moved with a rhythm I know too well: every lunge, feint, and snap mirrored Lyra’s style so perfectly it was disorienting. I can’t tell if it was instinct or practice, but it was enough to nearly tear me apart. Every time I countered, I had to anticipate her like I would Lyra in practice, reading the subtle shifts in weight, the tilt of her head, the flare of her nostrils. I pressed every ounce of strength into each block and dodge, knowing one mistake could end me. Somehow, I held on, not by power and brute strength alone but by familiarity. The echo of Lyra’s technique saved me.

I glance around, alert despite exhaustion. Shadows stretch along the walls as warriors curl into corners, some limping, others panting, but all alive. I can see the tension in every taut muscle, every wary flick of ears. Battered, yes, but whole. 

Lyra sits near the front. Her guilt radiates, sharp and relentless. She hadn’t counted on Blue Raven, hadn’t expected the castle’s frightened innocents to seek help. In the end, her plan saved us but at a cost we hadn’t intended.

I crawl closer, brushing her shoulder with my muzzle. “You did what you had to,” I murmur. “Yes, things went sideways, but everyone’s inside. Everyone’s alive. That’s what matters.”

She nudges me gently. “I know we’re all safe now, Bram, but I miscalculated. I didn’t realize Blue Raven was helping Running River, and my plan… it almost cost us. I wanted to strike Kaelen, and now, the pack is wounded because of me.”

Around us, the Song warriors quietly lick their wounds. I move through the cave, checking each one. They’re holding on. Although, the cave feels exposed. 

“We shouldn’t stay here. It’s time to move,” I tell Lyra. 

Through her, the command flows to Song, and the pack rises, obediently, their paws careful on the uneven stone. We step toward the mouth, moving as a single, wary unit, every sense straining against the forest darkness beyond.

Running River lands shrink behind us, folding into the dark as we press forward. Every pawfall is deliberate, each warrior close, ears flicking to every sound. 

Finally, the forest thins, familiar scents brushing our snouts. We slip into Song Pack territory, and the pack spreads, limping but alive. 

Lyra nudges me. “We made it.”

I pad alongside her through the quiet roads. The little yellow house appears, and I glance at Lyra. “It’s strange,” I murmur. “This place feels like home after all that madness.”

Inside, floorboards creak beneath our paws as we move to the back room. We shift and  strip off the last layer of debris, brushing soot from our shoulders. Then, we get dressed.

“You think they’ll forgive me?” she asks meekly. 

I reach for her hand. “I don’t know what Song’s reaction will be, but I do know that you tried your best, and no one could’ve seen that ambush coming. No matter what, I will be here with you.”

“I just wanted to finish Kaelen and Running River. Not put everyone in danger,” she huffs. 

A sudden clamor drifts through the quiet of the yard, voices rising and echoing outside of the small house. Lyra stiffens beside me, glancing toward the sound. “What now?” I mutter. Without another word, we step onto the porch, leaning forward to see what’s making the noise in the night.

All fifty warriors, as well as their wives and children who’d stayed safe with the elders, stand in the front yard. The warriors are all in human form now, eyes bright, wounds healing. Jorin’s there, too,  standing a little apart, but he’s grinning, caught up in the energy.

“Lyra!” a chorus of voices erupts. They clap, stomp, cheer. My chest tightens as I watch them. Every face is lit with awe, gratitude, and relief. “You led us through Running River! You kept us alive!”

“She helped us kill every warrior who came at us!” someone else shouts. “And brought us home safely!”

Lyra’s shoulders lift, a proud smile spreading across her face. “You all did the work,” she says loud enough for all to hear. “I only guided, and I’m sorry. I beg your forgiveness. Blue Raven being sent for… well it came as a shock, to say the least.”

“We slaughtered every member of  Running River’s army thanks to you, Lyra!” Jorin shouts. 

The pack erupts with praise again. I stand behind my mate, my heart filled with admiration. 

Serena steps forward, raising her hands for attention. “Enough talk,” she calls. “We’ve survived, we’ve healed, and now we celebrate. The Lunae-Rite will be ours tonight, together, as a pack!”

I watch as the pack begins moving. Older members fetch supplies, check on children, and keep the gathering organized. Warriors who were limping are now nearly healed. 

Children dart past, squealing and laughing. Serena, Reed, and Asher weave through the crowd passing out cups of cool springwater. The older men and women hand warriors jerky we dried yesterday and berries they forged while we were gone. 

“Lyra,” I say, stepping closer, lowering my voice so only she can hear. “Will you step aside with me for a moment?”

She nods, falling into stride beside me. The sounds of the celebration still reach us, but the edge of the yard softens the noise. 

“You did so well,” I murmur, squeezing her hand. “I’m proud of you. You led us into battle and everyone came back.”

“Bram, I’ve been meaning to ask you… about leading this pack… would it be okay if I made a habit of it?”