Death in the Mountains

Bran barely evaded the first strike. Wind-driven snow cut across his face like glass shards. His boots crunched deep in fresh powder. Each step gambled on hidden ice beneath. Through the white wall of blizzard, yellow eyes gleamed. The storm parted. Meera's massive wolf form emerged. Muscles rippled beneath crimson fur. Her muzzle wrinkled. Teeth flashed wet in the dim light.

Bran forced a memory into her. It hit harder than the storm. Slowed her. Young Bran, smallest of the pups, challenging Meera for the right to enter alpha training. Her teeth in his scruff. The taste of blood and dirt.

"Where's Hana?" The wind tore his words away.

Meera's thoughts cut sharp through their bond. The girl trusted me. That was her mistake. I am what the Beast King made me. A killer.

Meera's massive paw swept low. Caught Bran's ankle. He rolled with the impact but ice stabbed his shoulder. Her teeth snapped an inch from his throat. He drove his elbow up. Connected with jaw. Bone met bone. The impact jarred his arm to the shoulder. He struggled to deflect the next strikes. Each one pushed him back.

Metal scraped on ice behind him. Valik stumbled through the storm, sword drawn. Axe not far from reach. Black sap oozed from his cursed leg. The wind caught his cloak. Snapped it like a battle flag.

Let me in. The curse whispered. Sweeter now. Seductive. Remember how it felt to run? To fight without pain? The black sap crept higher, past his hip. Where it touched, strength flowed. His bad leg straightened.

"The girl?" Valik's voice cracked. His sword steadied as the curse's power filled him. "What did you do with her?"

Through their bond, Meera's contempt burned cold. Humans. Always thinking they can save everyone. There is no saving in this world. Only survival.

Bran ducked under her next lunge. His fist found ribs. Cracked against dense muscle. She twisted impossibly fast. Her back paw caught his chest. Sent him sprawling. His head cracked against hidden stone. Stars exploded behind his eyes. He barely rolled aside as her jaws crushed the snow where his head had been.

Meera's muscles bunched. The storm drove a wave of snow between them. She burst through it like a demon. Not at Bran. At Valik. The old hunter's blade whipped up. Black sap pulsed along his arm. His strikes came faster than they had in years.

Bran followed them,blade drawn.

We could have made it work. Bran sent through their bond. A new kind of pack. Humans and beasts together.

The storm caught him. Slammed him sideways. Ice crystals cut his face. Through the white chaos, he glimpsed Meera's claws raking Valik's chest. The old hunter's sword flashing in defense. Too fast. Too strong. The curse feeding his rage.

Dreams die, stupid Bran. Meera's thoughts carried the iron taste of blood. And soon you'll die with yours.

She emerged from drakness. Her teeth ripped through his cloak sleeve. Blood sprayed. He twisted free but left skin and meat behind. His boot connected with her ribs. A satisfying crack. She yelped but didn't slow. Lunged again. This time her weight drove him down. Snow packed his wounds. His knife slashed up. Cut through fur. Found muscle. Her blood joined his on the ice.

Another memory pierced their bond. Hana teaching Meera sign language in the stables. The human girl curled against wolf fur, unafraid. Trust freely given.

Feel my power. The curse purred in Valik's mind. Black sap spread across his chest. Pain vanished. Strength surged through his limbs. Help me destroy the fledgling king. Be whole again.

The blizzard screamed around them. Three dancers in a deadly ballet, with winter itself as their partner. Each breath became daggers of ice in their lungs. The storm's roar drowned all sound but the curse's sweet promises in Valik's mind.

Bran spat blood onto the snow. Through the bond, he felt Meera's savage joy. The thrill of the hunt. Just like in the training pits when she'd been his alpha.

Her claws raked his thigh. Tore leather. Found flesh. He slammed his knee into her throat. Once. Twice. Each impact loosened her grip. Blood ran hot down his leg. Froze almost instantly in the bitter cold. She recovered. Lunged. They went down together in a tangle of limbs and fury. His fist connected with her muzzle. Her teeth found his forearm. They rolled through the snow, leaving crimson trails.

You remember the pits, don't you? Her thoughts cut like ice. How many died so we could live? What's one more betrayal?

The curse rippled across Valik's chest like oil. Black tendrils wrapped his sword arm. Remember glory. The whispers grew urgent. Hungry. Remember victory. Take it back. His blade traced erratic patterns in the air, fighting enemies only he could see.

Snow packed against Bran's legs. Tried to root him in place. His muscles burned. Blood froze in his wounds. He reached through the bond again. Remember when we dreamed of uniting the packs? Before the Beast Kings tore us apart?

"The Beast Kings," Valik snarled, his voice distorted by the curse. He wasn't sure but it felt as though he heard Bran and the wolf talk. "Always the Beast Kings. Maybe Silver City is right. Maybe they all need to burn no matter the cost." The black sap pulsed with each word.

Meera's mental walls wavered. For a heartbeat, he felt her pain. Her sister's face. A promise made. They've already burned everything. My sister screams in the dark. Two moons, they gave me. Two moons to choose between betraying you or watching her die.

Then her defenses slammed back into place. She charged through the storm.

The blizzard spun around them. A white tomb closing in. Valik's sword flashed overhead. Forced them apart. "Enough!" The old hunter's voice cracked with power not his own. The curse had reached his shoulders now, turning his movements puppet-like.

Frozen drying blood stained Meera's red fur black. She limped now. But her eyes held the same fierce pride from their training days. When she'd believed in him. When they'd thought they could change things.

She pushed Valik away. She used her bulk to pin him. Massive paw crushed his chest. Ribs flexed near breaking. He wedged his knee between them. Pushed. Tendons strained. With a roar, he heaved her off. But she twisted mid-air. Landed gracefully. Her claws left furrows in the ice as she launched again. This time he met her charge. They collided like battling rams. The impact drove air from his lungs. Her teeth snapped. Found his shoulder. Shook. Pain exploded through his body. Bran drew arcs with his blade. Through the gaps in their fight. "We can still change things."

Change? Her bitter laugh echoed through their bond. We never changed anything. We just learned new ways to kill.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Bran's thought cut through their bond. We were building something better.

Bran slammed his forehead into her muzzle. Felt cartilage crunch. She released Valik's shoulder. Blood matted her fur - his and hers mixing. But she recovered instantly. Her claws raked his chest. Left parallel lines of fire. He grabbed her scruff. Used her momentum. Threw her into a snowbank. Ice and powder exploded around them. She emerged snarling. Blood dripped from her fangs. Her next strike took them both over a fallen log. They rolled downslope. Each impact driving grunts of pain. Each roll ending with new wounds.

Valik staggered between them, sword weaving. The curse spoke with his voice now. "A fledgling king. A traitor wolf. The old order burns tonight." His blade left trails of black in the air.

The storm drove sheets of ice between them. Through the white veil, Meera's form shifted. Blurred. For a moment, he saw her as she'd been. Young. Unbroken. Before wars and Beast Kings had stolen their choices.

The blizzard circled them like a hungry beast. Bran's knife trembled in his frozen grip. Through their bond, he felt Meera's exhaustion. Her resolve hardening like the frost on her fur.

Two moons. Her thoughts carried the weight of chains. My sister withers in the dark while I teach a human pup to speak with her hands. What kind of monster have I become?

Valik stumbled between them. The curse had reached his neck now. Black sap pulsed with each labored breath. "The girl trusted you," he spat at Meera. His words came distorted, mixed with the curse's whispers.

The curse pulled his sword up. Use me. End them both. Reclaim your honor. Black tendrils crept toward his face. Each heartbeat spread the corruption further. He swung wildly. At them. At the air.

Another memory crashed through their bond. Meera standing guard while Bran comforted Hana after nightmares. The wolf and the human child sharing silent understanding. A bridge between worlds they'd almost built.

Almost isn't enough. Meera's thoughts tasted of iron and regret. Not when they have her. Not when I hear her screams in my dreams.

The storm chose its moment. A massive gust slammed them from all sides. Snow and ice crystals whirled up in a feeding frenzy. Meera's claws found Bran's chest in the chaos. Tore through leather and flesh.

"Her weight crushed him against frozen ground. Claws dug into his sides. Found ribs. He bucked desperately. Managed to get one leg under her. Kicked hard. Heard something tear in her hindquarters. She stumbled but didn't fall. Her teeth flashed. He barely got his arm up in time. Felt fangs pierce leather. Scrape bone. With his free hand he grabbed her ear. Twisted savagely. Cartilage tore. Her grip loosened enough for him to roll free. Blood pattered on snow. Steam rose from their heaving bodies."

Valik's curse-strengthened blade sang through the air between them. Each swing left trails of black corruption in the snow. Fighting phantoms of his past. Fighting the present. Fighting the curse's sweet promises of redemption.

He grabbed Meera's ruff. Drove his knee up to meet Bran. Connected with muscle. Meera and Bran crashed together into a snowbank. Just like their last training fight. Before the Beast King's soldiers came. Before everything burned. Before they turned rivals.

We could have changed things. His thoughts bled into their bond. Shown them a different way.

There is no other way. Her response carried decades of pain. Only survival. Only the strong devouring the weak.

Meera's mental defenses cracked. Pain flooded through. Petra's death. Kuvira's death. The pack. Who would be next?

Through blood-stained snow, Bran glimpsed Meera's eyes one last time. Saw in them every dream they'd shared. Every hope of uniting their worlds. Now dying in the storm, like everything else they'd tried to protect.

"The curse," Valik's voice emerged strangled. Human for a moment. "It shows me... such beautiful lies..." The black sap reached his eyes. Turned them obsidian dark.

The blizzard howled victory. Swallowed them all in white. Three broken warriors. Each fighting their own demons in the storm. Each trapped by choices made long ago. By promises that cut deeper than any blade.

Black sap pulsed across Valik's face. His sword traced an arc through the storm. Not at Bran. At Meera. The blade sang with unnatural speed.

Bran didn't think. His body moved. Blood sprayed across the snow. The sword cut deep into his shoulder instead of Meera's throat.

Pain exploded through his chest. His knees hit ice. Through their bond, he felt Meera's shock. Her confusion.

Valik's blade whipped back for another strike. The curse had consumed him completely now. Black sap coated his skin like armor. His movements puppet-like. Inhuman.

Meera's teeth found Valik's sword arm. Bone crunched. But the curse-strengthened limb didn't yield. The old hunter's free hand grabbed her fur. Twisted. Threw her toward the cliff edge.

Bran's knife slashed up. Found the gap between Valik's ribs. Dark blood welled. Mixed with black sap. The curse laughed through Valik's mouth. His strength doubled. Tripled.

They grappled at the cliff's edge. Three bodies tangled in death's dance. Snow gave way beneath them. Rock crumbled.

Meera's claws raked Valik's face. Tore through the black shell. For a heartbeat, his eyes cleared. "Thank you," he whispered. Then he fell. The storm swallowed him whole.

Blood pooled under Bran's feet. His vision blurred. Through their bond, he felt Meera's turmoil. Felt her prepare for death.

She shifted to half form. Knelt in the snow. Tears froze on her cheeks. "Why?" Her voice cracked. "Why save me after what I did?"

Bran stumbled forward. His arms circled her shoulders. "Because I promised." Blood dripped onto her hair. "Never to let you fight alone again."

Her body shook with sobs. "I betrayed everything we built. Am just tired Bran. Tired of the shit choices we are given."

"There's always another choice." He pressed his forehead to hers. Remembered what Valik had said to him. "Always a third path."

A silhouette moved in the storm. Hana limped toward them, favoring her right leg. Her hands flashed angry signs. Stupid wolf. Didn't have to hurt so much.

Bran's eyes widened. She's alive?

Meera's laugh came out half-sob. She gestured . Couldn't kill you. Must be getting soft.

Not soft. Hana's signs cut sharp through the snow. Family. She threw her arms around them both.

The storm raged on. Three figures huddled in the white chaos. Blood and tears mixing in the snow. But something else too. Something the Beast Kings hadn't managed to kill.

Hope.

---

Shadows moved against the wind. Dark shapes emerging from white chaos. Hunters materialized like ghosts from the snow. Twenty hunters from different parties. They'd been culled free of Liana supporters. Now, only Warren men and women remained. Spears leveled. Swords drawn. A few crossbows aimed at Bran's heart.

Warren stepped forward alone. Blood stained his boots. Not his own. "Look at you." His voice carried almost gentle. "Bleeding for a wolf who betrayed you. Just like I bled for a guild master that would have destroyed everything I worked for."

Bran's shoulders tensed. Through the bond, he felt Meera's fury rise. Her muscles coiled to spring.

Wait, he pushed through their connection. Too many blades.

Warren's eyes swept over them. Professional. Calculating. "Poor Valik. I saw what you did to the old bastard." A slight shrug. "Had to be done."

Snow crunched under shifting boots. The circle of hunters tightened. Through their bond, Bran felt Meera's calculations. Her hunter's mind marking targets. But her wounds were too deep. Her strength fading.

"I see myself in you, Bran." Warren's voice softened further. "The necessary cruelty. The willingness to kill even family when required." He extended his hand. "Join us. Help me build a stronger guild. One that doesn't bow to Silver City or Beast Kings."

Hana's hands flashed desperate signs. Twelve right. Eight left. All from failing parties.

"You'd overlook your brother's death?" Blood dripped from Bran's wounds. Froze before hitting snow.

" I loved my brother. But he was weak. Like this guild is weak." Warren's offered hand didn't waver. "Sometimes rot must be cut away. You understand that better than most."

Bran met his eyes. Nodded slowly. "You're right. I do understand. I will join you."

Warren's smile came genuine. Then faded. "You really are a poor liar." His hand dropped. Gestured to his hunters. "Kill them."

The storm howled around them in a familiar rhythm. The rhythm of death.