"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.

Without getting herself killed.

"If you want even a chance to make it out alive, you'll shut your trap and listen." The growl formed deep in her throat, and she walked closer to the tod. His body tensed, worry flashing across his muzzle. Baring teeth or claws against a member of the royal family was punishable by death. Skadi doubted the queen would care to waste such youth and potential on her broken daughter, but the tod didn't need to know that. She always found a way to win, even if it wasn't pretty. "That's beside the point, anyway. I can fight."

"Prove it."

Skadi was about to reach toward his scruff, give the fox a good nip to show him his place. But then she realized his lips hadn't moved a muscle.

She replayed the echo of the words in her mind. The smirk in his tone. Skadi knew it anywhere.

Holding still, she pretended she hadn't heard. The growl stayed on her tongue, and her gaze pointed at the tod crouching before her. His eyes darted sideways, warily eyeing the source of the voice. The tundra vibrated beneath each of her foe's slow footsteps, marking his path to her blind side.

Air hummed through his fur, and she ducked back. The slate-furred tod landed with a graceful roll, whipping around to face her.

"Perceptive as ever, Skadi," he chimed. "I was worried you'd gone deaf––"

She took advantage of his need to monologue, charging forward and shoving him backward. He landed in the snow with a flurry of ice. The tod thrashed on the ground, but Skadi quickly placed her teeth around his neck. His legs kicked fruitlessly at her chest, but she only tightened her grip. When red began to trickle from beneath the blue of his fur, he groaned and shifted slightly to reveal his belly.

Skadi let go. She stepped over his overturned body with a laugh. "As arrogant as always, Kleng."

The rest of the soldiers ducked their forequarters in his presence, and ten tails hit the ground.

"General Kleng," the tailless tod trotted up to him, having watched the display without a peep. "I didn't know you were returning, not so soon."

"Jonas." He returned the greeting with a nod. "My condolences. I know you lost a lot of good foxes in that battle."

Skadi held her breath. He wasn't the only one.

"I had to return to help train our next line of defense." Kleng's tone held a certain authority, one that quickly fizzled out in place of sarcasm. "My sister needed me, more than anything."

She choked on her tongue and followed it with an eye roll. "I don't need you."

"That's not what Mor said."

Skadi furrowed her brows.

Her brother gave her a toothy smile. "She's convinced your mind isn't as sharp as it used to be. Just like your sight."

She blinked. Darkness filled her narrow line of vision. When she opened her eyes, the faint cloudiness still remained. It wouldn't be much longer before she couldn't see at all.

"But I know that isn't the reason." He marched a circle around her, stopping at a shoulder. She couldn't see him, not with her head held straight, but she felt his warm breath in her ear. "I have a feeling you'll be a little more focused now. Since your distraction is gone."

Skadi snarled and threw herself sideways. Her shoulder collided with Kleng, and he stumbled sideways. She dug her claws into the snow, stalking toward him slowly. "Don't. You. Dare."

Jonas seemed to notice the rising tension and gathered the recruits. He led them away from the growling pair and across the tundra, where he could give them the day's lesson in peace.

Her piercing gaze shifted back to Kleng.

He rolled his shoulders and clenched his jaws. "What? Call you out?"

"Who told you?"

"He did."

Skadi's legs trembled. She searched his narrowed eyes for answers. Begged him for them.

Kleng finally let his hackles fall, but the scorn hadn't faded from his muzzle. "Have you ever heard of Sindra?"

She nodded. Their aunt's defiance had been used as a cautionary tale for as long as Skadi could remember. She'd never met her, never seen her. Skadi was adopted just shortly before the pregnant vixen was chased from their skulk for taking a mate she wasn't permitted.

"Then you should know that what you two had was always a mistake."

Skadi shook her head. Loving Njall was never a mistake. It was the only thing she'd ever done right.

"Royals have no say over their mates. Even those who don't share our blood." His voice sounded bitter. Angry. He had every right to be. "We owe our service only to our mother, to our skulk."

Her body trembled with rage. The queen was not her mother. And she knew that Kleng's words came not from a place of anger, only envy. She had found someone willing to love her, even when she could never be what he deserved.

Skadi pushed back with a bark. "You were given the choice to leave. To escape this sun-forsaken skulk. Why didn't you?" Maybe she had some envy of her own––for the fact that her brother didn't owe his life and service to a wicked ruler.

It was the birth right of every royal-born male: a chance to leave the army, to gain a pardon from any future draft and escape to a normal life in the untamed reaches of the Shadow Skulk. The queen's attempt to make it up for the fact that they would never be heirs; that honor was reserved for vixens. Skadi was given no such choice; she would always be alone, her tainted blood deemed unfit to pass on.

A growl drew her attention back. "I will fight for my home," he spat. "Just like Njall. Even if he could love a coward as ugly as you, I owe it to him."

She jerked away from him. She couldn't bear to hear any more of his hateful words.

"Don't walk away from me, Skadi." Kleng's growl rang in her ears, but it quickly faltered. "I only know because he gave me a message for you."

She stopped.

"Njall was worried he wouldn't make it back..." His voice trailed, and something similar to sadness edged his tone. "He met me days before the battle, and he gave it to me: a promise," Kleng said. "That he would always love you. And that you would promise to move on."

She growled. How could he be so selfish? How could he leave her here alone? And how could he expect her––dare even ask her––to move on?

"Skadi?" Kleng called.

She whirled around to face him. Tears dripped down her cheeks, and her jowls ached.

"Do you promise? For him."

Biting her tongue, she breathed the word. "No."