At four in the morning, the sky was still dark, though a thin line of red already streaked the eastern horizon.
Upon the walls, torches burned, their smoke blending with the drifting mist.
Luna stood atop the watchtower.
She had not slept all night.
Below her, two hundred soldiers stood assembled, some clutching spears, others bows in hand.
Her own hands were cold, yet her voice rang steady and firm.
“Post guards at every gate,” Luna commanded.
“Archers to the ramparts.
Spearmen below.” Elder Alden stepped forward.
“My Lady.
Scouts report the enemy is two miles away, and advancing fast.” Luna nodded.
“How long until they arrive?” “One hour.” Luna drew a deep breath.
“Ring the bell three times.” BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
The sound rang out across the castle, waking every soul within its walls.
IN THE CHAMBER Kael woke at the bell’s call.
He sat up at once, his body screaming with pain.
“Luna?” No answer came.
Kael stood, swaying unsteadily on his feet, and reached for his sword.
“She is upon the tower, Alpha,” Mira said as she entered with water.
“Guard her,” Kael commanded.
“And keep Minho safe.” IN THE COURTYARD All women and children were gathered within the great hall.
Mira stepped forward.
“Sit.
Do not step outside until you are told.” Minho sat close beside her, clutching her hand tightly.
Outside, the castle echoed with the sound of running feet.
BEFORE THE GATE Four-thirty a.m.
The mist began to thin.
From the distance rose the thunder of thousands of marching feet, drawing nearer with terrifying speed.
Then the Whitefang host appeared, banners blazoned with the claw mark, ranks of spears and shields gleaming.
At their head rode Darek upon a black stallion.
He halted his forces a hundred paces from the gate.
Luna stood upon the wall, the wind whipping through her hair.
Darek raised a hand.
“LUNA!” His voice carried across the distance.
“Come out and speak!” he shouted again.
“Or I shall tear this wall apart!” Luna stood silent, her gaze shifting to Kael, who had just come to stand beside her.
Kael spoke low.
“Do not go down.” “I have no intention of it,” Luna answered quietly.
She stepped forward to the edge of the ramparts.
“Darek of Whitefang.
This is Blackmoon land.
Turn back before blood is spilled.” Darek laughed.
“Blood has already been spilled, Luna.
Upon your fields.
And among your people.” Luna raised her spear.
“STRIKE!” THE BATTLE BEGINS Four forty five a.m.
The first arrow arched down from the wall, striking the foremost ranks of the Whitefang host.
Screams rose up.
The enemy returned fire their arrows thudded hard against the shields lining the ramparts.
Luna’s voice rang out.
“Hold your ground!
Do not yield!” Blackmoon soldiers hurled great stones down from above.
CRASH!
Three Whitefang warriors were struck and fell.
Darek raised his voice.
“Advance!
Bring the ladders!” Ten heavy wooden ladders were rushed forward and propped against the walls.
Whitefang soldiers began to climb.
“BOILING OIL!” Luna shouted.
From above, scalding oil was poured over the ladders.
Torches were cast down, and the wood erupted in flame.
Those climbing screamed and fell away.
IN THE THICK OF FIGHTING Kael fought beside Luna.
Weakened though he was, every strike of his blade remained deadly.
“To your left!” Kael called out.
“One breaches the wall!” Luna’s sword swept down, severing the hand that had reached over the rampart.
Blood spilled, and screams rang out.
Yet still the enemy came in overwhelming numbers.
One ladder held fast.
Five Whitefang warriors scrambled over the wall and onto the battlements.
“TO ARMS!” Luna cried.
Fierce close-quarters fighting erupted atop the wall.
Luna stood against two assailants, moving with swift, deadly grace.
She wounded one, while Kael drove his blade through the other from behind.
“Well fought,” Kael gasped, breathless.
BELOW THE WALLS Darek watched from a distance, his brow furrowing.
“They fight too well,” he muttered.
He turned to his men.
“Bring the ram!” A massive tree trunk, capped with iron, was borne forward by twenty men.
They charged toward the main gate.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
The great gate shuddered under the blows.
WITHIN THE CASTLE Luna heard the crashing impact.
“The gate!” she cried.
“Down!
Reinforce the gate!” Fifty soldiers rushed down from the walls and raced to hold the gate.
Kael caught her arm.
“You remain here.” “I must go,” Luna said.
“They need me.” And she hurried down.
AT THE GATE Five a.m.
The wood began to split.
Behind it, fifty Blackmoon soldiers braced their shoulders and spears against the door, holding it fast.
THUD.
Another crack appeared.
Luna arrived.
“All together!
PUSH!” They strained as one, bracing against the weight.
THUD.
The gate threatened to give way.
Suddenly, from high above, heavy sacks of sand came crashing down.
They struck the ram and its bearers, sending the Whitefang warriors reeling back.
Luna looked upward.
Mira and the other women stood upon the wall, hurling sacks and stones.
Luna gave Mira a nod of gratitude.
Mira smiled back, then turned to cast another load, fighting to hold the enemy at bay.
OUTSIDE THE WALLS Darek roared in fury.
“Fall back!
Withdraw and reform!” The Whitefang host retreated fifty paces.
The battlefield fell quiet for a moment, strewn with the fallen and stained red with blood.
Luna stood upon the ramparts, chest heaving, her hands trembling.
Kael came to stand beside her.
“You are extraordinary.” Luna looked out at the enemy.
“They will return.” Five-thirty a.m.
Darek stepped forward alone, leaving his army behind.
He halted before the gate.
“Luna!” Luna appeared above him.
“What is it?” “You have won this round,” Darek called.
“But I have time on my side.” He cast something onto the ground before the walls—a severed head, that of the Blackmoon scout sent earlier.
“Take this as my message,” Darek said.
“I shall return tomorrow with greater force.” He turned and rode away.
The Whitefang army withdrew with him, vanishing into the woods.
AFTER THE BATTLE Six a.m.
A heavy silence hung over the castle.
The bell had fallen silent.
Soldiers sat huddled where they stood, some weeping, others tending to wounds.
Luna walked among them.
“Bring water.
Bring bandages.
Tend to the hurt.” She stopped beside a young soldier, no older than seventeen, an arrow buried deep in his chest.
The boy looked up at her.
“My Lady…
did we win?” “We did,” Luna said, and tears fell from her eyes.
“Rest now.” The boy closed his eyes.
IN THE GREAT HALL Six-thirty a.m.
All who remained gathered within.
Forty bore wounds.
Twelve would not return.
Luna stood before them, her tunic stained with blood.
“We held this castle,” she said.
“Because of every one of you.” The hall fell quiet.
“We have little time,” Luna continued.
“They will return tomorrow.” Elder Alden rose.
“What are your orders, My Lady?” “We strengthen the walls.
We dig defensive trenches.
And we send messengers to the other clans to beg aid.” “Who will go?” Alden asked.
“I will,” Luna answered.
Kael, seated upon his chair, sat bolt upright.
“No.” “I must,” Luna said.
“You must remain here and lead the defense.” Kael held her gaze for a long, heavy moment, then nodded.
“Very well.
But take ten men as your escort.” Luna nodded in agreement.
Three p.m.
Luna readied herself.
She wore light armor and carried her sword at her hip.
Minho came running and clung to her legs.
“My Lady, please do not go.” Luna knelt and smoothed his hair.
“I shall return.
Watch over your sister for me, will you?” She kissed the top of his head.
Kael waited at the gate.
“Go safely.” “I promise,” Luna said.
She mounted her horse.
Ten riders fell in behind her.
The gate swung open, and they rode out.
Eight p.m.
Kael sat in his study, staring at the maps spread before him.
Outside, soldiers labored to repair the damaged walls.
Mira entered carrying a tray.
“Your supper, Alpha.” Kael nodded absently.
“Has she ridden far?” “She has,” Mira replied.
“She took the western forest path.” Kael let out a heavy breath.
“May the gods keep her safe.” IN THE WHITEFANG CAMP Nine p.m.
Darek sat beside his fire.
“Our losses?” “Thirty dead.
Fifty wounded,” his captain reported.
Darek cast a log into the flames.
“Tomorrow I bring five hundred more men.
And siege engines.” He looked up at the rising moon.
“Luna…
you fight with courage.
But tomorrow, you shall not prevail.” Ten p.m.
Luna and her escort made camp deep within the woods.
She sat close to the fire, writing letters by its light.
[To the Clan of River and the Clan of Stone: We are besieged.
We beg for aid, Luna of Blackmoon.] She sealed the letters.
From the darkness beyond the firelight came the distant howl of wolves.
The first dawn of war had passed.
But tomorrow’s dawn would bring far greater bloodshed, and Luna must choose: return with aid, or fight alone.
Ten-twenty p.m.
A small fire burned amid the trees.
Luna sat leaning against the trunk of an ancient oak, her cloak damp with evening dew.
Ten guards stood watch in a wide circle, spears pointed outward.
Luna opened her leather pack, hard bread and skins of water.
She passed them around.
“Eat quickly,” she whispered.
“Then rest in shifts.
Two men on watch at all times.” The soldiers nodded.
Weary though they were, they kept alert.
One of them, Joren, stepped closer.
“My Lady…
your arm.” Luna looked down.
A long, ragged cut ran along her forearm, the blood already dried.
“It is nothing,” Luna said.
“Bind it tight.” Joren tore a strip of clean cloth and wrapped it gently.
“Thank you, My Lady,” he murmured.
“Today we live because of you.” Luna shook her head.
“We live because all of you stood and fought.” She looked up.
The stars were beginning to vanish behind drifting clouds.
WITHIN THE CASTLE Ten-forty p.m.
Kael walked slowly toward the armory.
Inside, he opened the arrow chests, and found them nearly empty.
“Forge more,” Kael commanded the smiths.
“Work through the night!” The ring of hammers rang out across the castle, sparks flying upward in the dark.
Elder Alden approached him.
“Alpha, the western wall has cracked.” “Reinforce it with timber and stone,” Kael ordered.
“They will strike again tomorrow.” Alden bowed and hurried away.
Kael sat upon the steps, his gaze fixed upon the dark, silent gate.
IN THE ENEMY CAMP Eleven p.m.
Darek ordered his encampment set.
Great fires were lit in the center of the lines.
“Take count once more,” he commanded.
“See to the wounded.
Burn our dead.” A lieutenant handed him a scroll.
“The losses are heavy, Alpha.” “I know,” Darek said.
“But they have suffered no less.” He traced lines drawn in the dirt before him.
“Tomorrow we change our course.
We strike the southern gate.” MIDNIGHT Twelve a.m.
Luna could not sleep.
She unfolded the letters she had written and read the words once more.
Her fingers paused upon the final line, We beg for aid.
She breathed a quiet sigh.
“Forgive me, Kael.” Joren stood watch nearest her.
“My Lady…
try to rest.” “I will,” Luna said softly.
“Sleep now.
I shall keep watch.” Joren lay down, and soon his breathing fell into the steady rhythm of sleep.
Luna remained awake, listening to the forest, the hum of crickets, the sigh of the wind.
Far beyond the trees, faint but unmistakable: the sound of footsteps.
Not beast.
Luna stood, hand closing tight around the hilt of her sword.
“To arms,” she whispered.
Her guards woke instantly, forming a defensive ring.
The footsteps drew nearer.
They came not from the direction of the castle, but from the north.
And Luna did not yet know whether they faced friend…
or foe.