The War for Eventyr

3 | Prove It

"The Flameborn make advances on our borders with each passing moon." Skadi paced before a line of foxes. Some were young––mere kits––while a few had graying whiskers atop their pale muzzles. All were deemed fit to fight by the queen. "Our forces have fallen back so far as the mountain pass. If we don't do something about it, they'll take our home."

A muzzle twitched. The young tod's hardened gaze never faltered, but Skadi knew the toll each attack took on their skulk.

"They murder soldiers, mothers, and infants alike." Her tone grew grave. "They take no prisoners and give no mercy."

His breathing hitched. His heart beat faster.

"The onslaught that occurred yesterday, it came upon us without warning." She stopped in front of the juvenile, lowering her head. "They pushed faster and harder than we'd ever seen coming. I'm afraid there was little time to evacuate families."

He gave a solemn nod, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. She knew what it was like to lose someone to the war, just as much as any of them.

Skadi didn't let it faze her, turning on her paws and continued to pace. "My job is to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Her eye shifted sideways, and she beckoned the tailless fox closer. The Flameborn always left one survivor in each battle, but not without a scar to remember their loss.

"This is Jonas. He's going to go over what went wrong with the battle."

A scoff finally broke out. Skadi glared at another tod. This one was full-grown, and his black whiskers tugged at her brain with familiarity.

"Have you ever even set paw on a battlefield?" His question was tinged with mockery.

They all knew the answer. Skadi wouldn't last a second surrounded by enemies, not when she could hardly see what was right in front of her.

"What's your name, soldier?"

"Sylfr," he barked.

Skadi remembered the mouthy tod now, one she'd personally removed from the troop they sent to guard the border several weeks ago. His youth was betrayed by an ignorant mind, rash decisions, and a disrespectful tongue––obviously all three were still intact.

She only wished she could have kept her closest friend from being sent into the frontlines. But it was hard to justify that to the queen when he was the best fighter their skulk had ever seen, more more, a commander.

"And do you have a point, Sylfr?"

He broke stance, allowing his shoulders to slouch and his head to tilt. "I just don't understand why you're in charge of strategy, when you've never experienced a real battle. Don't even know how to fight for that matter."

"What does it matter if I can fight?" she asked flatly. "Your commander is in charge of close combat, not me. But I'm your only hope for when it all goes south." And she hoped it was true, because she was grasping at straws to find a purpose within her skulk.

Skadi only wished she had never learned to recognize the patterns in the way the Flameborn attacked. Or, used to attack, back when the army was led by the fire-furred king and not his son. When the odds weren't so tipped against their favor and the Shadowborn didn't always lose. Skadi had analyzed countless battles from the recounts of surviving soldiers, had learned how the Flameborn attacked––each time, without fail.

Had. But ever since the rise of Flame Skulk's new warrior, something always went wrong. If she wanted to live up to her mother's expectations, prove to her that she had a reason to exist, she had to find a way to change the tides.