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She left the camp under cover of pale sunrise, silently padding through the trees. She didn't really need to sneak, but it was good practice, and she loved nothing more than to surprise the lookouts. One in particular, she knew had a crush on her, and she got right up behind him without him even flinching. She debated what to do for a moment, before deciding to just tap him on the shoulder.

"GAH, FUCK!"

He'd been crouched low, and at the unexpected contact, lurched to the side into a roll and came up panting.

"By the bone filled wastes, Trixie, stop doing that! You'll give me a heart attack one of these days!"

"Aw, but you know I do love it when you scream. Besides, you make it so easy."

"Hey, I'm watching for spies and soldiers coming to attack, not sneaking witches come to scare a man's fur pale."

She swooned, leaning back against a tree.

"Oh, lament! Is that all I am to you, just some pretty face, only allowed in your presence when you decree? Oh cruel fate, to be look down upon as such!"

"No, no, I'm not falling for that again, she-devil. You've played that card one too many times."

She stood up straight, laughed, and patted him on the shoulder as she walked past.

"You're getting smarter, Barcala. I should be back before long."

"I'm surprised you're going out at all, didn't you hear? The migrating herds will be passing through soon, we're moving camp as soon as Saccularius is burned, tomorrow morning. Most everyone's preparing for either his ceremony, or for breaking camp immediately after that."

"I did hear, Barks, I just needed some peace and quiet."

"Alright Trixie, hurry back."

Then, she was free of the camp's perimeter, and she let the façade of happiness fall. Alone in the woods, a sneer crept across her face, and she snickered as she contemplated how utterly she'd fooled them all.

"Such simpletons! They have this coming to them, no doubt there. That they could be so lax, after what they've done... did they think there would be no retribution?"

She ceased her monologuing, aware that she was still close enough to the camp that she might stumble upon someone else out for a walk, or perhaps a hunting party on the way back. She walked briskly, without pause, and soon came to the pre-arranged place. With her sharp teeth, she pierced the skin of one thumb, then smeared her blood across the trop of an old rotted stump. The wind carried her scent far as she rolled into some underbrush to wait. So low to the ground, surrounded by bushes, a stranger would only scent the blood on the stump. She was confidant she would not be found.

Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen, and still she remained motionless in the underbrush, absolutely relaxed. After half an hour had passed, she heard the approach of another wolf, walking slowly, cautiously. The newcomer made little sound, but after listening to the forest for half an hour she immediately picked up on the new, out of place sound.

A male wolf from the Sun Runner tribe stepped into the clearing and waited. Trixie cautiously crawled out from the underbrush and dusted herself off.

"It is good that you called on me, I have urgent news."

"It can wait, Vox."

"No, it cannot. Two suns ago, the entire Stripe Hide clan was decimated."

"Two suns... that was the night the Runt arrived."

"So the Shadows did not strike at the Stripes?"

"No... No, we were gathered to receive their emissary."

"I believe you my lady, but my chief will not. He gathers our troops to strike at the Shadows in long awaited retaliation for the FlamePads' massacre, and now the StripeHides' deaths too. We and our friends will attack soon."

"This... this can work in our favor yet. Tomorrow at high noon, the Shadows will mourn the death of their greatest fighter in a feast. During the feast, they plan to execute the Runt, who is now the last surviving member of the Stripe Hide clan.

"I will inform the Chief of this. We will attack while they are unprepared."

"What of the Runt though?"

"He matters not. He is the crippled offspring of a dead tribe; he has no home, no family, no use. He has nothing. His death now would be a mercy. If he survives the fight, then we should welcome him with open arms. If not... then it was the gods' will that he die."

"No... something greater is at work here, and I believe he has a greater role yet to play."

"He is a Runt! What worth could he possibly have? I mean no disrespect, lady C-"

"SILENCE!"

Her shout split the air, and they both winced as they waited for some answering shout. None came, and after ten minutes of tense silence, she spoke in a whisper.

"Do not say my name, not at all, and especially not this close to the camp. The wind can carry sound a long way, and it would not do for them to know. You must leave, we cannot risk that someone heard my shout."

Vox bowed low, hands over his shoulders.

"We attack tomorrow at Belluosus's peak. Be ready."

"I will be."

Vox padded off towards where the Sun-Runners already prepared for war, and "Trixie" made her way back towards the camp. Barcala saw her coming this time, and nodded as she approached. She teased one finger along his collarbone as she passed, and he blushed beneath his fur, but she was gone before he could think of anything to say.

Feeling anxious about so many plans all coming to a head, she stepped to where Khaejiran sat tied to a stake. His eyes were closed, but they darted rapidly, as if he was in the grips of a vision.

"Good luck, Khaejiran. Fate and Chance march against you. Tomorrow will be a trial that you might not pass."

She was about to walk away, but then she happened to glace at his bindings. The were charred as if someone had taken a flame to them. The implications spun through her mind... The Legends... The Myths... A wolf who could wield Belluosus's wrath? Such a thing was impossible, yet there could be no other explanation for the charring on the leather. She quickly located fresh leather, then rebound him while he slept. Tomorrow... so much hinged on so little, yet she was honor bound to do her best to ensure Khaejiran's survival. Even if that meant betraying her Chief.