"…This concludes my report, honored warlords." Tired-looking Ultis had finished reading off the clipboard and stood at attention. One of the blues made a crater in the ground with the scout’s head, leaving her with a popped-up vessel in the left eye, but despite the order to take it easy, Ultis still insisted on working rather than lying in bed.

Aranea nodded to her encouragingly, busy chewing on the chocolate. Two blood tanks were connected to the arteries in her neck and left arm, seeping out the blood at an alarmingly fast rate. Like orais and trolls, all wolfkins had the same blood type, making it easier for the doctors to perform blood transfusions. And the stronger the wolfkin was, the more "potent" her blood was, giving the low ranks the enhanced healing of a warlord. Aranea’s blood, for example, allowed Mak, a survivor from Hine’s pack, to snap out of the healing coma in a few minutes instead of the expected days.

All the warlords had offered to give their blood for the sake of their kin. After some consideration, the doctors decided to only take blood from Valerye and Aranea. Annie wasn’t that strong, Olesya’s body contained way less blood than expected, Alpha was badly wounded… And after the doctors administered Zero’s blood to Kaleb, the male not only healed the misaligned disk in his spine but also punched a hole in a medical room, climbed on top of the hospital, and started howling at the moon. It took five scouts to apprehend and sedate him, and even sleeping, his heartbeat raced six times faster than normal. Thankfully, his condition was only temporary, but the doctors quickly refused Zero’s blood.

Aranea had lost count of just how many liters of blood she had given at this point. Geldi made her endure several checkups, finding that her new height was fifteen feet, her new weight was around two hundred and sixty kilos, although the medic grumbled at this assessment, stating that Aranea looked like a starvation victim. The most surprising of all was that Aranea’s body now had four buds, two livers, and three lungs. Such changes were common among the warlords, Ygrite’s body, for example, had three hearts. But no warlord had ever had two livers before. Only ice fangs ever grew these organs upon becoming sword saints.

Finally, the approximate amount of blood in her body was around thirty liters now. The best of all was that by digesting the food, the warlord's body created new blood far faster than she was losing it, turning her into a never-ending blood bag. And not only that. Her abdomen was no longer flat, Aranea felt a new strength in her muscles, the cuts and bruises on her body had long since been covered with smooth skin.

So here she was, sitting on the chair, dressed in simple black cargo pants, and chomping on a bowl of chocolate and nutrient paste without stopping. Valerye was sitting next to her, drinking a nutrient solution via a straw and through the hole in her helmet.

"At ease, scout. We have over three thousand injured, and our sire takes off to Iterna." Alpha growled.

The medics had to tie up six beds to make space for the warlord to rest. The bones in her shoulders were turned into countless broken pieces that were impeding the regeneration process of her muscles. Right now, Svetlana was busy changing the blood-soaked bandages with fresh ones. Each time she sliced off a bandage, a small cloud of bloody steam was rising from beneath, almost as if someone were cooking Alpha’s body from within. Her body was healing, but it would take at least a day or two before she could walk.

And this means that I may just pull it off. Aranea forced a cold expression to come on her face. Annie, Olesya, Zero, Alpha, Valerye. And she. These are the only warlords here. And with the shaman’s leader coming here, Aranea can initiate… "Three thousand? You are counting normies too?" The warlord asked to get distracted.

"In a war, all who fight by our side are our kin in both battle and recovery," Alpha refused Svetlana’s offers to feed her and looked at the ceiling. "You would do well to remember it, sister. Ultis, when Annie finishes her bonding ritual, tell her that she is in charge of overseeing the safety of the trading routes until I am healed."

"Of course, warlo… Alpha."

"Scorpio won’t like it," Zero observed, ripping the bandages from her own shattered paw and inspecting her no longer swollen fingers. "The acting commander had told us to stay put and focus on the recovery."

"Then it is a good thing that Annie’s pack didn’t lose anyone today." Aranea allowed herself a grin, feeling genuine happiness for her sister. She and Olesya will hold a farewell ceremony to honor all the fallen.

"Yes. Scorpio means well, but any battle draws scum who prey on the weak out of hiding. We need to show that order reigns in all our lands. Zero, our lost sisters will undoubtedly go out hunting, aroused by the energy release. Do your thing," Alpha closed her eyes. "His excellency should have never agreed to the operation."

"This is the law, warlord," Valerye shuddered when the massive head turned to look at her and continued speaking in a shy tone. "The three powers had agreed on this act. Not a single soul should have the power to destroy the world!"

"And Wyrm Lord's power will not be diminished," Aranea eagerly added to Valerye's argument. "Eugenia and Outsider both endured the same operations, and, Blessed Mother be my witness, ain't no one equal to them. Abyss, if anything, this change honors the Reclamation Army! We are the only nation with not one, but two apocalypses who work for the state! Out of the known seven!"

"You may be right," Alpha grumbled, "I just hate the Containment Act. Just kill the poor bastards, no need to mutilate them."

The Containment Act. The rarest international act ever. And possibly the most important. Following the Extinction, the newly formed states initially paid little attention to powers. Fire breathing, metal bending… It was impressive, but war is all about mass production. Reliance on a few elite units meant that if these units got sick or wounded, you were left defenseless. This is why the new breeds were in such high demand: they were strong and fast off the bat, capable of wielding weapons and armor, making them perfect candidates to become soldiers. And the need to address the food crisis, the health crisis, pollution, and the threat posed by roaming bioweapons; efforts to gather survivors... To put it simply, no one had the time to bother with powers back then.

It all changed when Eugenia accidentally opened a portal as big as a moon. And later, the entire world shook, feeling the dreams of the lone malformed, dreams that drove sand reapers into madness, resulting in untold deaths. Shorty after, Outsider revealed the full scope of his power too, and all three powers met, agreeing on the Containment Act.

According to it, all three major powers must inform each other about the appearance of a potential apocalypse. After locating an apocalypse, he or she is presented with a choice. Endure the operation in Iterna that will limit their power to a reasonable degree. If the individual agrees, one of the three countries would offer a job to the individual. If he or she refuses, the countries will pay the individual allowance for the rest of his or her life.

If a potential apocalypse refuses the offer… Things get a little messier. Iterna’s protocol stated the apprehension of the individual and putting them into a nice, comfy prison, until the day therapists deemed it fit to release them. According to Reclamation Army protocols, either the wyrms will brainwash the individual into being unable to use the apocalyptic powers indefinitely, or the apocalypse must be killed on sight. The Oathtakers mostly followed Iterna’s side in this situation.

With Wyrm Lord’s potential revealed, the world now knows about seven known apocalypses. Eugenia works for Iterna. Outsider works for the state. Another one works for the Oathtakers, but that person asked for his power to be fully sealed. One more had been killed by Devourer. And the rest have died of old age by now. Their offspring have powers similar to their parents', but are far weaker in potency.

Wyrm Lord will never be able to gather enough energy to split the planet in half. His power will be neutered, both biologically and mechanically, plus he has already put a mental imprint on his own brain.

Knowing our sire, I somehow doubt that he would miss wielding such power. Aranea chomped on nutrient paste, feeling how Geldi started removing needles from her. And with him gone for a few months, Scorpio is now in charge of the Army. She had never seen the acting commander so happy. Scorpio even hummed a tune on his way to the command center. Anyone is better than Ivar…

A slamming of the door and a stinking odor distracted Aranea from her thoughts. Her eyes widened when she smelled the familiar dread mixed with the odor. Yuki and Lucendra, both looking like someone had maimed them, came crashing in. Lucendra held a cub in her outstretched paws, her eyes filled with divine reverence and fear, while Yuki simply smiled to her ears.

"Apologies for the interruption, warlords, scout!" Yuki straightened up, "But we just met the Blessed Mother! And she came bearing gifts!"

"WHAT!?"

Aranea jumped off the chair, listening to the incredible story. She smelled the air, sensing the undeniable smell of Ravager among the stench coming from the soldiers. Both women looked shocked. Yuki, despite all her bravado, still had a hint of fear hiding behind her eyes. Lucendra handed Zero the cub as if the girl were a living bomb.

"She claims to be Ashbringer?" Aranea asked, coming closer and sniffing over the cub. She saw cubs back in the village, even helped Yuki with some. No way this one was older than a few months at best. No cub has ever talked at this age.

"She must be Ravager’s daughter!" Yuki fired up.

"Ain’t we all?" Lucendra asked.

"I mean biologically."

"That’s impossible!" Aranea laughed, seeing how Zero was unsurely holding the girl beneath her armpits. Without thinking, Aranea snatched the cub, cradling her in her paws. "You saw Ravager’s size? Can you imagine any male being able to mate with her? It’s biologically impossible…" She stopped, feeling struck by a sudden realization. "Wait, the Blessed Mother told you to go to Scorpio, right? And this one has such magnificent black fur… Could they, you know, be mating in secret…"

"I am no lizard’s daughter!" The cub squeaked furiously in her paws, causing Aranea to shake with surprise. The girl unleashed her claws, striking at the warlord’s arm in vain. "Curse you, weaklings’ breeder! I am Ashbringer, slanderer! Warlord Ashbringer!" When her claws failed to scratch Aranea's skin, the little one howled in rage, gnawing at the grinning Aranea's finger.

"Tear off a piece of her skin…"

"No," Svetlana slapped Alpha across the snout, drawing the warlord's gaze to the medic. The woman stood unafraid, enduring the fear coming from Alpha. "You will not harm a kid while I breathe."

"A cub, not a kid. Zero, you and Ashbringer used to hang around. Ask her something only she knows."

"Hmm…" Zero pressed a finger to her helmet, thinking of something. "Ah, I know! Ashy, you and I visited Houstad during the annual celebration of defeating the Gilded Horde. There we decided to go to a concert. What concert was that, and what did we do later?"

"It was not a concert!" The cub squeaked back, looking angrily at Zero. "A concert means pleasant and soothing music, like a piano! Or flutes! Or drums! Not a punk gathering filled with dreadful techno acid infernal sounds plucked from the depths of the abyss! And after the guards dragged your drunken body away from the scene, we ended up on that blasted orgy!"

"Blasted? But I thought that you liked the white-furred one?" Zero asked innocently.

"The orais lasted far longer." Ashbringer admitted.

"ASHRBINGER! ZERO!" Alpha thrashed on her bed, trying to stand up.

"What?" The cub turned her head to look at Alpha. "Stop shouting. I wasn’t married back then."

"You were a warlord by then! Just you wait, once you grow up, I will lacerate you for this indignity!" Alpha promised to her. Her heavy gaze fell on Yuki and Lucendra. "And you two! Why are you smelling of shit?"

"Oh, that’s me!" Yuki’ scratched the back of her head, "I met the Blessed Mother, and my bowels just gave in. I mean, who wouldn’t get scared, right? With your permission, we will be off to the showers…"

"Wait," Ultis walked to them. With her fingers, she ran across the armor of each wolfkin, finally stopping at Lucendra’s gorget, "These claw marks are too small. They weren’t left by Ravager."

"I-I-I can explain!" Lucendra fired up, raising her paws to stop Ultis from advancing on Yuki. "When the Blessed Mother threw us, Yuki had grabbed me to arrest my fall, and this… well, this," The warrior visibly shrank under the scout’s look. "It’s true!"

"I see," Ultis took her soldier by the shoulders, speaking calmly. "I believe you, Lucendra. And I also have the urgent need to have a shower, the story shook me to the very core. Warlord Aranea," Ultis let go of the soldier. "Members of my pack will never again be involved in mixed operations with your pack, not unless I am with them. If you feel dissatisfied with my decision, you may take my throat or take it to Warlord Annie."

"I understand." Aranea replied to her, never once taking her eyes off Yuki.

Could it be? She felt rage rising up in her. Of course it could be! She wasn’t stupid enough to believe that centuries-long traditions could be over with a simple order! Even today, shamans had to smack those who looked down on the branded. Branded. Tsch, I am no better than everyone else. Former branded, you stupid shithead! Aranea trusted Yuki, she believed in her with her entire heart… She should have known. Only the Spirits know what sort of inner demons Yuki is dealing with, of course she would snap! Aranea had snapped at a far lesser burden! Aranea saw how Lucendra and Sly were arguing non-stop, she heard all about it, so why didn’t she come and talk with Yuki about it? Why didn't Aranea tell Yuki that these two were just idiots competing with each other?

No more. She peered into the wolfkins' backs as they walked away. Sure, she would punish Yuki if the woman really attacked the comrade. But Aranea will also help Yuki get through it. Aranea will call and beg Philip for help if needed. They were all hurt by the war. And now it was time to heal these wounds.

Tiny nearly crashed into the leaving wolfkins, pushing a cart filled with cakes before herself. The wolf hag looked at the strained snouts of the trio but said nothing to them, instead addressing the warlords.

"Greetings, warlords!" Tiny saluted, taking off plates with cakes. She noticed the cub in Aranea’s paws and raised a brow before giving her a cake, "In celebration of the war’s end, please allow me to treat you with some of the cooking!"

"Yours?" Valerie took the food with caution.

"No, warlord, Velka’s. She and a few others have taken over one of the kitchens and are making a feast to celebrate the peace. Gin is still in the med bay, my pack was ordered to take a rest, and I needed to do… anything to shake off the worry, so I volunteered to act as a delivery girl."

"My, this looks delicious!" Zero turned toward the wall, allowing her helmet to open around her jaws.

"Sweets are for the cubs, weakling," Alpha growled, "Take them away and…"

"If you don’t want it, I’ll eat the food." Ashbringer squeaked. Aranea sliced off a piece of her own cake and gave it in small portions to the cub.

Tiny took a breath, enduring Alpha’s grumbling. With a smile, she sat near her mother, putting aside the spoon and plate, leaving the cake in her fingers. And showered it into Alpha’s mouth between her words.

"Eat. The. Damn. Cake. Mom. Please." Tiny took out her paw, keeping a grin on her snout.

Alpha gulped down the food, licking chocolate off her lips: "I could have bitten your arm off."

"But you didn’t."

"And don’t call me Mom. You have a real one, go speak with her," Alpha’s eyes found Valerye. "I am tired of this game, whore. Go nanny your daughter or something, she is pestering me to no end."

"What…"

"You had no right!" Valerye cut off Tiny’s question and jumped off the chair, her mere step creating a tremor across the room. Aranea quickly returned the cub to Zero and stood up to try to stop the warlord from attacking Alpha. "What if the shamans learn?"

"I called them an hour ago, moron," Alpha’s eyes burrowed into Foulsnout’s lenses. "This is your punishment for working as Dragena’s mole, whore. Everything will be fine, now get out of my sight."

Valerye looked at Tiny, then at Alpha, and finally once more at Tiny. With the trembling paws, she reached out to her helmet and took it off. And looked at her daughter with one amber eye and one brown eye. Her lips twisted into a parody of a shy smile, ruined forever by the ugly damage to her right cheek that showed her normal teeth instead of fangs. Valerye allowed her helmet to fall, breathing loudly through her augmented nose. She tried to say something, but only gestured to Tiny pleadingly, leaving the room.

Aranea followed after them, picking up the helmet more out of worry. Outside, Valerye leaned against the wall, looking at Tiny. The two looked nothing alike. One, a halfbreed, her face was that of a normie. Another, a wolfkin who was born far too small to be a cub but who had grown bigger thanks to her training. It was Tiny who was slightly taller than her mother now.

"Elea," Valerye slide down on the floor, "I am so, so sorry."

"Why didn’t you ever tell me? Was it because I was unwanted?" Tiny asked quietly, standing on her knees.

A nurse showed up in the corridor, and Aranea put her paws together, silently pleading with the woman to move elsewhere. The woman gave a nod and retreated.

"No! Spirits, no, never, never, ever!" Valerye hit the side of her head, forcing herself to speak normally instead of the usual grinding tone. "I love you! I’ll give my life for you! It’s just… When you were born and Scarred One announced that you were too weak to live… I didn’t know what to do. Scarred One agreed to keep it secret to protect you, but we both knew that the others would see! I… I should have taken you and run, but instead I panicked and foolishly thought that I could announce the challenge and banish the culling… And… And…" Valerye raised her paw, and tears mixed with blood flowed on her red fur. "I got crushed. When I woke up, I begged Alpha to take you in, explaining the whole story to her. I knew no one would dare to check the blessed warlord's cub. Alpha agreed. She even assisted me in obtaining the medication for you and... I saw you grow up, but I was too afraid to approach you, I was afraid of what the shamans would do to you if the lie was discovered. I… Oh, Elea, I am so sorry. I know that I don’t deserve forgiveness…"

"Why?" Tiny asked cheerfully, blinking away her own tears, "You came to me from time to time, teaching me. Alpha and you helped me get into Yuki’s pack, you both nursed me back to life!" She laughed and hugged her mother. "There is nothing to forgive, mom! What cub is more fortunate than me, I have two moms, and they both love me! I am Tiny and I am Elea, and everything is finally okay!"

"Well, not everything," Valerye forced out a laugh, "Elea, we need to talk about your cooking skills. I know, males are supposed to do it, but we can't leave your cooking at... such a dreadful state."

"Mom," Tiny giggled through her tears. "Not now, ‘kay?"

Aranea put the helmet on the ground, retreating from the two sobbing women softly and silently, allowing a smile to come on her snout. Not every story has a sad ending. Sure, the halfbreed had no idea why exactly Tiny bothered to call Alpha her mother, but she decided against judging. She hastily thought Kate was attacking Kaleb before. She made a mistake by thinking that Thinner was harmless. No, Aranea swore to herself that she wouldn’t be judgmental anymore.

Aranea briefly visited her room to pick up the terminal and pull a jacket over her shoulders. Checking the data on the terminal, she saw that the shamans will arrive in ten minutes according to the recon units.

Tons of time. Aranea breathed out, walking toward Keyl’s room. She won’t put anything off for later anymore. Not now, not ever.

"How are you feeling, champ?" Aranea opened the door without bothering to knock.

Keyl smiled to her, putting aside the terminal. Unlike the warlord’s room, his was of far superior quality. An air conditioner worked in the room, cooling the air. A turned off TV hung on the wall. The coats of arms of each sword saint were painted on the white walls. Back when ice served alongside darkness, this room was intended to be First's private chambers. Nowadays it has been remodeled into a hospital room, but the exquisite furniture, including an actual piano and a wine cabinet, still betrays its original purpose.

Keyl himself was relaxing on the overly long bed, covered by silk blankets and dressed in a white hospital robe. King’s attack had left him with a few cracks in his neck, along with broken ribs. His household was already informed, and in a few days, the knight captain was supposed to be picked up by a private flying vehicle.

"To be honest, furball, I'm raging," Keyl slowly laid back on the pillows. "Zeke can already walk, and now no one has any idea where he or Carty are."

"Feeling envious, Keyli? Perhaps two lovebirds wanted to have a little fun," Aranea teased him, stopping next to his bed. "Who knows, maybe they are busy producing new little Araneas right now."

"Now that would be a story!" Keyl’s laughter turned into a strained cough, but he raised his paw, showing that all was ok. "No, Ari, I am not envious. I do have someone in my life, too."

"Is she good?" Aranea purred.

"The best," Keyl gave her a pat. "See, Zeke is a knight. And we do have rules to follow, one of which is no premarital fleshly pleasures. Zeke is a good friend and a loyal comrade, but sometimes I am getting worried about him. Why swear an oath if you don’t intend to keep it? But you didn’t come here to talk about him," He gave her a sharp look. "What happened?"

"I came to check on you," Aranea said as she rose from her chair. "And I am about to do something really crazy and risky."

"Give me a moment to pick up my sword…"

"No," Aranea smiled to him gently. "This is something I must do alone, and only alone. I think I calculated everything correctly and chose the perfect moment, but the Spirits know I'm bad at math. Wish me luck, and if something happens… Keep your cool. We are all allies here, remember."

"You still owe me that dinner in the Core Lands." Keyl pointed at her jokingly.

"No cheating, no lying, and no weaseling out. If I still stay, we’ll eat together one day!"

"Then I wish you luck, Ari. And come back soon."

****

Aranea met them shortly after they entered the main gates. Nine mighty forms, eight of them are clad in archaic-looking power armors. Unlike the new, lean, and elegant power armors, these ones had rough curves along with sharp steel at the elbows and knees, turning entire limbs into deadly weapons. Bone pieces and prayer books were hanging all across their bodies, every single centimeter of their power armors was incrusted with prayers dedicated to the Spirits and with prayers asking the Spirit of Rage to steer itself away from the flock and take them instead.

None of the shamans carried any ranged weapons, a few of them had oversized swords or axes on their back, but most preferred to use their natural claws, as tradition dictated. As one, they took off their helmets, looking into Aranea’s eyes in anticipation. The war was over. And with it, the warlords’ supremacy.

Aranea stood on one knee, accepting their superiority over her, and two women moved toward her. One in the heavy power armor of the older generation. The armor was heavily modified to produce no sound, but it was still a very old relic from a century or more ago. The woman had pitch-black fur, covered by numerous scars that looked like ravines across the plains that were her body. One of her amber eyes was dim, its flame extinguished by some cruel slash across her eye. The woman’s pauldrons were illustrated with two badly painted amber eyes, indicating her rank as a supreme shaman. Impatient One, the current reigning shaman.

A woman in a full body suit walks next to her, leaving only her neck and head exposed. Despite not wearing armor, she was taller than everyone else; every inch of her exposed skin was covered in scars, with pieces of black fur growing up between them. Her build dwarfed even Aranea, the jaws looked fully capable of devouring a grown man in power armor in a few bites. Her eyes, however, looked at Aranea with warmth and a hint of fun. Lacyone, formerly known as Lacerated One. The supreme shaman who gave up her position after the last Gathering. Sister in blood to Zero, late Dragena, and Ygrite. Lacyone had expressed the desire to explore the world outside of the Tribe. Only the attack on the fortress and the absence of the Wyrm Lord had forced the woman to return to guard the people of the state.

"I am halfbreed." Aranea quickly said, seeing the shaman’s paw approaching her.

"And?" Impatient One inquired, genuinely interested. Her voice was strange, it had a genuine warmth mixed in with the rough, rasping tone. Taking off an armored gauntlet, the woman bit her paw and splattered blood across Aranea’s forehead. "Blessed be, Aranea. I have heard that an actual wyrm joined the Wolf Tribe. Trust me, warlord, normies, wolfkins, wyrms…" The shaman sighed. "All are welcome and equal before the Spirits. Such is change."

"Actually, Leila is a half-wyrm," Aranea stood up, releasing an aggressive scent that drew the shaman's attention. "One of my soldiers was revealed to be defective," Aranea’s claws slid from her paws. "Will this be a problem?"

"You are talking about young Elea," Impatient One nodded, lifting her paw to calm the others. "No, she had earned her right ten times over. We were wrong to sentence her to death," She saw Aranea’s look and continued. "Are you surprised? Don’t be. None of us is infallible, this is why the Spirits guided our sister to preserve Elea’s life. We had erred in our judgment, and for this I will ask her forgiveness."

"How convenient," Aranea forced herself to stay calm, feeling the looks of other wolfkins on her. Ravager was incorrect in many ways, but one thing was undeniably correct. No single person should ever rule the Tribe. The shamans, like the warlords, had their own convictions. And she’ll have to convince them rather than risk starting a civil war in the tribe. The warlord bowed, showing her neck. "I apologize for my aggressive action and rudeness, honored shamans, Lacyone. The change still runs wild in me."

"As expected," Impatient One took her by the head and massaged Aranea behind the ears briefly. "All endure the touch of the Rage at some point. It will recede in the coming days, worry not."

"As long as you wield it for good, anything that is natural is not shameful, Ari," Lacyone told the warlord, kissing her on the head before hugging the woman. Her voice was filled with confidence and joy. "If you want to, I can show you some meditations to calm and soothe your soul."

"I would like it," Aranea returned the hug, feeling the bulging muscles beneath the woman’s bodyglove. By the Spirit, the rumors were true! Lacerated One truly was the only shaman strong enough to rival a warlord! "But right now, I have a selfish request. I am issuing The Challenge of the Warlord."

The mood shifted. The normies, both officers and soldiers, still looked at the group as usual, but even they felt an uncomfortable feeling of boiling rage in the air. The wolfkins all around the shamans and warlord had frozen in fear, briefly glancing around in fear that Alpha might descend upon them any second now. The shamans burrowed at Aranea with their eyes and twitched their fingers, eager to release the claws.

The Challenge of the Warlord could only be issued if Alpha and the supreme shaman were present in the same place. If the two are not present, then the challenger has to wait for them to assemble. There would be no cheating here, neither the shaman nor Alpha would attempt to stall for time, their duty would not allow this. Each warlord had the right to start the challenge once every twenty years.

Once initiated, the challenger had to face every other warlord present, climbing up the ladder toward Alpha. Should the challenger win, the change that she wants to bring about will be accepted without the need to vote on it at a Gathering. And this is where Aranea had placed her bet. With Impatient One and Alpha both here, she could not be refused. And with Alpha’s wounds… Aranea just might stand a chance. If she judged the others right.

"And what do you want to change?" Impatient One forced down all her aggression, addressing the warlord formally and professionally.

"I want to stop the culling of the elderly." Aranea replied, feeling the pain in her heart. Young or old. She had to choose. It was not just because of her promise to Kostya. No. If the tribe’s people are allowed to grow old, they’ll eventually grow more experienced and less dependent on the faith. Diversity will be born, and the belief in the Spirits will diminish, ensuring that more positive changes will come about, no matter if Aranea is alive or not. At least, this was her hope.

"Janine would be proud of you!" Lacyone burst out in laughter, clapping her paws. The former shaman had ignored the looks of her sisters, grabbing her stomach. "Annie and Olesya are both weaker than her, Impatient One. And since they are her friends, no doubt that both will throw the match. Alpha is too badly injured, and Zero never joins the challenges. And you can’t face her yourself. Seems like the cub outwitted you and won by default," Lacyone wiped her tears away, giggling nonstop. "Oh, my! First Dragena, now you! Change is truly something!"

"Have faith, Lacyone," Impatient One smiled begrudgingly, giving Aranea a pat on the shoulder. "Good play, warlord, Lacyone’s thoughts are in alignment with my own assessment."

"I thought you would be angrier and try to bite me or something." Aranea admitted.

"Why would I?" Impatient One folded her paws in a praying gesture. "Your shrewdness honors dear Janine and shows me that the pack is in good, albeit soon-to-be broken paws. Worry not, wounds tend to heal. Some might think us simple, but part of being a leader is being ready for situations like this. Lacyone, we do have a warlord for young Aranea to fight."