Chapter 5: Survival's Secrets

"You won't last another night if you keep discounting my advice."

Dax's words sliced through the silence of the campfire, as keen as the knife he was honing in his hands. The flickering shadows the firelight created on his face highlighted the sharp lines of his jaw and the displeasure in his eyes.

I scowled at him, gripping my side where his improvised bandage was tightly wrapped for comfort too tight. "I asked for your opinion not here."

"No," he answered dryly, "but you really need it. Not in your condition, neither can you fight like that again.

"I held my own," I shot back, though even I doubted it. The battle still caused my body to hurt, and every breath caused the wound on my back to throbber.

Dax groaned, slinging the dagger aside and stooped forward. "This is not about claiming your own, Zaia. This has to do with survival. And just now, your performance is appalling.

He stood suddenly, taking a little satchel from his bag. Come here.

I hesitated, conscious of his tone. " Why?

"Because you will bleed out the next time a rogue gets too close if you do not learn how to properly dress a wound."

I hesitated and moved in closer. He leaned down next to me, his motions quick yet deliberate as he untook the bandage from my side. I gasped when the cool night air came across the open cut.

"Hold still," he said, his voice relaxing just slightly.

I bit my lip and watched him deftly wipe the cut. "You've done this before," I said—more of a statement than a question.

" Too many times," he said. His jaw tightened, and for a second I saw something in his eyes—pain, regret—but it disappeared as rapidly as it came.

You lived as if this were normal?I asked, unable of stopping myself. "Always on the run, battling to survive?."

Dax ignored me. "Rogues don't get to live any other way."

"But you're not like them," I responded, startled by my own conviction in voice. You're unique.

Though there was no comedy about it, he laughed. " Different? Since I kept your life intact? Luna, never confuse need with compassion.

Though I flicked at the title, I stayed back. "You were not needed to assist me. You may have allowed my death.

"Maybe," he answered, staring back at me. Still, I didn't. So stop challenging it and start paying attention.

Dax guided me through the fundamentals of survival for the next hour—tracking, setting traps, how to travel throughout the jungle without leaving a trail. Though his voice was consistent and his directions were clear, he had an edge, a simmering frustration right under the surface.

"You're not bad at this," he grudgingly said after I tied a snare.

I said, unable to resist the jab: "High praise coming from you."

Though it did not reach his eyes, he grinned. Keep that from running through your thoughts. You still have plenty to learn.

"Like your approach of staying current?I poked fun at.

His tone worsened, and I started to regret what I had said. "This is not a game, Zaia. You find the rogues we battled to be dangerous? In comparison to what is available, they are nothing.

As if to illustrate his point, a deep growl rumbled from the darkness beyond the firelight.  Dax got on his feet right away, grasping for the dagger he had thrown aside.

He murmured, his voice a quiet command, "Stay behind me."

The growl got louder, and in the gloom two brilliant eyes emerged. My wolf roused, eager to battle, but the weariness in my limbs brought me back to my limitations.

Dax moved forward, his posture defensive. "Show yourself," he snipped, his voice tinged with force.

Surprisingly, a lone wolf—not a renegade but rather a scout from the Crescent Moon Pack—emerged. My heart seized as the wolf turned to see a familiar face.

"Zaia," the scout murmured, his voice shaking with relief. "The Alpha instructed me to find you.

His remarks caused my gut to turn over. The scout's eyes swung to Dax, his face tightening. And from what standpoint are you handling him?\\"

Dax stepped forward, his posture tight, before I could respond. "I could pose the same query. With her right now, what does your Alpha want?""

The scout twisted his lips into a grimace. "That none of your worries, renegade. Move aside.

Dax did not move; his presence exuded menace. Not until you clarify the reason you are here.

The strain pulsed between them, and I moved forward to lay a hand on Dax's arm. "Let me manage this," I responded softly.

The scout turned to me and softened his look. "Zaia, the Alpha—Sebastian—he made a mistake. You should come home, he says.

The words strike me like a gut-reversal punch. House. My house had been the Crescent Moon Pack, but that was before Sebastian threw me out and broke my faith.

"No," I answered with shaking voice. "I'm not returning.."

The scout opened his eyes widely. "You do not grasp. He looks back at what he done. He—"'

"Has anyone regrets?"I stopped, my rage surging to the surface. He turned away me. He choose her instead of me. And suddenly he wants me back?„

The scout cast a helpless glance at me. "Zaia, please." Out here you do not belong.

"No," Dax replied sharply, straying between us. "She shouldn't be there."

The scout's eyes narrowed, and I could once more sense the tension building. But before any of us could say another word, the night rang with a terrible howl—a sound unfit for the pack or the rogues.

Dax's face became rigid. Whatever this is, he replied with a quiet, urgent tone, "it can wait." Our more major issues are here.

My pulse pounding as the cry became louder, I glanced toward the forest. Something approached. And it was not isolated either.