Return of the General's Daughter

"Both of you—go find food before it gets dark. Take Berlin with you."

Bener and Kellan groaned in unison, but neither dared to argue. Muttering under their breath, they grabbed their weapons and disappeared into the dense underbrush.

"Look for pheasants!" Lara called after them. "There should be plenty around here!"

She settled on a fallen log as she pulled out a bundle of bamboo nodes—leftovers from the bridge’s construction. With practiced hands, she began cutting them into makeshift arrows, her fingers steady despite the weariness in her bones.

Without a word, Asael knelt beside her and started helping. His movements were careful, deliberate. They both knew the importance of being prepared—arrows might be the difference between survival and death if battle came sooner than expected.

Lara hesitated before finally voicing the thought that had been gnawing at her. "Why did General Odin go through with the attack, even after being warned it was a trap?"

Asael’s hands slowed. The bonfire which they lighted early to ward off insects and predators, flickered across his face, casting long shadows over his furrowed brow. "It was the consensus of the other generals. They convinced the second prince, and he made the final decision. They believed General Alaric might have misjudged the situation."

Silence settled between them, heavy as the humid air. Somewhere, an owl hooted, its mournful call a reminder that it was already twilight and the jungle was alive, watching.

As darkness descended into the mountain, the hunting party returned, their arms laden with game. The scent of fresh blood and wild earth clung to them. Some carried rabbits, others pheasants, and a few had gathered wild fruits.

Lara’s eyes flicked around, searching for someone. Aramis.

He had vanished after crossing the bridge. Was he avoiding Asael? The thought made her frown.