The Blood Wolves | Vol.3, The Eldenarian Artifacts ✓

18.

The battle between the Redfangs and the Children of Eden was a hard-fought one. It only ended once the werewolves decided to retreat.

Though, it wasn't like they had qualms about leaving. They didn't want to be there in the first place.

Makaela was surprised at how strong the Ordinaires were. Albeit, they had the help of magical weapons, but they were well trained and fought as a unit. She could only imagine what a larger battalion of hunters was like.

It was a shame they were the enemy.

Once Makaela, her group, and their saviors were far away enough, the wolves shifted into their human forms and assessed their wounded. No one seemed to have suffered any major injuries, but one of the Redfangs did have a crossbow bolt sticking out of their shoulder. Oliĉ swiftly pulled the silver rod out—drawing a sharp wince from the werewolf—while one of his packmates helped apply pressure to wound with a cloth.

Not counting Oliĉ and Dorian, there was a total of eight werewolves in their party. They all looked even scarier than Dorian, which was a feat in itself. They also possessed similar tattoos decorating their muscled chests and backs.

Makaela felt her face grow warm upon realizing the state she was in. Her black curls must have looked like they hadn't seen a comb in years. Her dirt-stained face wasn't much better.

It didn't seem to be enough to ward off the hungry stares being thrown her way.

Dorian made an effort to stay attached to her hip the entire walk.

"They'll be coming after us now," Oliĉ grumbled from the front of the pack. He turned to Dorian, shaking his head. "You're lucky we were nearby, boy."

He hung his head. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize."

Dorian opened his mouth to say something else—most likely to apologize again—but quickly closed it and nodded instead.

Makaela frowned at him. "Cut him some slack. He was in Nyghtmir because of you and your clan, you know."

"Makaela, don't..."

Oliĉ chuckled. "Does he expect a pat on the back? A cookie?" He laughed again. "He did what he was supposed to do."

Makaela rolled her eyes at him. "Prick." Beside her, Dorian clenched his jaw and refused to meet her eye.

In an attempt to combat the hostility, Emile asked Oliĉ a question. "So, you were in Vashara? Have you met with Thorian?"

The man replied with a grunt. "He's managed to secure a base in the outskirts of the city. Thorian He requested my clan's assistance a few days back. We're not too far away from the stronghold."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "What's it called?"

He flashed her a wretched grin. "It's located in a section of the city called Ingozi. But the locals like to call it the Land of the Blood Leaves."

Adair hopped down from the tree he had been perched in. Landing on the ground with his knees bent, he beamed at the chief of the Redfangs. "That sounds like a wonderful place. Let's go!"

Oliĉ wasn't amused. He turned to Emile. "Thorian said you were bringing Nightlings, but I thought they would be a little more...mature."

As if to further prove his point, Adair sprung back up into the trees and began swinging from the branches.

Sybil facepalmed. "He's such a child."

Smiling sheepishly, Emile rubbed the back of his neck. "I had been expecting more as well. But they are capable fighters. They'll prove their worth soon enough."