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#12 Coming Together
Last Updated:
2025-09-28 13:33:57
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The Wilder Games - Savage Surrender 1 #14 Problem With Claws
Branwen POV“Terms?” Hadrian asks, king to king. “None today,” Zarrk says, and we all hear the later in his tone. He slides two fingers into a hidden pocket and tosses me a folded scrap. I catch it one handed. It’s a map, sketched in soot and oil, with three X marks threaded along seams, different from the serpent map in my pack. “Caches seeded by my people. Real help, not bait. Small. Useful.”“Thank you,” I say. Then, because the air is so thick with this I could chew it, I breathe out. “We should… address the obvious.”Zarrk’s mouth tilts. “We should.”He doesn’t step into me. He asks, with words, because someone has taught the whole Wild a new trick: “May I approach, Branwen Mosswood?”Consent tastes like power. “Yes,” I say. “Hands where I can see them. No teeth.”He glides the last pace, slow enough to be courteous, close enough that heat wicks between us. He lowers his head the slightest degree, not to my throat, smart cat, but to my knuckles. He inhales, a hush of air, then t
The Wilder Games - Savage Surrender 1 #13 Panther Parley
Branwen POV The forest wakes buzzing and nosy. Pine sap sweetens the chill, the creek gossips to stones, and through the trees a three-note chime drifts, patient as a cat tapping glass.Parley.I push up on an elbow. Nythor is already upright, his white hair a pale flag in the dim. Fenrick stretches like a sinner after a good sermon, smirking at nothing. Hadrian keeps his post on the ridge, all golden statue and stubborn, watching the dark between trunks like he plans to marry it.“Panther’s still ringing,” I mutter, scrubbing sleep from my eyes.Nythor tilts his head, listening. “Quarter hour. Metronomic.”“Persistent bastard,” Fenrick says fondly, like he’s talking about himself.We inventory what’s left: two ration bricks, a strip of dried fish, four hazelnuts I count like coins, and enough water to make the bricks less like despair. I smear wildmint along my throat and wrists, renew the scent mask, then crouch by our thorn curtain.“Stay calm,” I whisper to the hedge. My hush spe
The Wilder Games - Savage Surrender 1 #12 Coming Together
Branwen POVHadrian drops, and the wire sings above him and bites into the cedar instead. Fenrick hits the snake man from the side like a bulldozer. They roll, a blur of fists and teeth and growls. Nythor’s blade whispers once, and the second assailant hisses and staggers back, hand clapped to a bleeding ear.“Leave one breathing,” I call, already reaching for another arrow.The first snake wriggles free of Fenrick long enough to flick something at me, small, flashing and hateful. I slap it away with the flat of my dagger. It bites the ground and opens in a puff of glittering dust. Rotspore. My eyes water, and I curse and slam a palm to the earth.“Settle,” I whisper to the dirt. “Down.”The dust sinks obediently. The snake looks offended. Good.Hadrian drives him into a fallen trunk with a thud that rattles my ribs. “Enough,” he snarls, very human and very done. The snake spits red and laughs.“Enjoy the thirty days, little witch,” he hisses past broken teeth. “The queen’s patience e
The Wilder Games - Savage Surrender 1 #11 Effing Snakes
Branwen POVDusk drapes itself over the trees like a damp cloak by the time we move. I take point because I said I would and because none of them argues. Sensible. The creek chatters to our right, gossiping over the stone. I keep my bare feet on rock whenever I can, letting the water chew our tracks to mush.“Ears open,” I murmur. “If you hear a bell, freeze.”Fenrick’s voice floats from my left, amused and quiet. “Yes, captain.”“Try not to enjoy that,” I shoot back, and feel his grin without looking.Nythor ghosts my right flank like a thought I haven’t had yet. Hadrian’s warmth anchors my back; even when he’s silent, he hums with sunlight and impatience.The gorge opens like a slit in the earth. A fallen pine makes a narrow bridge. It’s slick with spray and alive with the idea of murder.“Single file,” I say. “Light feet. No heroics. If you fall, tuck and roll; the bottom’s all teeth.”Hadrian inhales to object, of course, and I cut him a look over my shoulder that says don’t make
The Wilder Games - Savage Surrender 1 #10 Beasts
Branwen POV I walk forward slowly and there they are, Nythor, Fenrick and Hadrian. Standing there like three different kinds of storms trying to behave. They keep space between us. No lunging. No teeth. Good start.“Witch,” Hadrian begins, voice low. “We....”He stops. All three of them go still at once. Nythor’s pupils thin. Fenrick’s nostrils flare. Hadrian’s jaw locks. Something presses at them from inside, hard enough that I can feel it in the air.“Back up the tree,” Nythor says way too calmly.“What is....”“Go,” Fenrick snaps, not at me, but at whatever’s clawing at his ribs. That’s enough for me. I jump, catch and hustle climb. By the time I wedge into the fork, the men below have staggered apart like they’re making room for somerhing big.And then their beasts come forward.It’s not just a shift. It’s like a tide. Hadrian blurs and the lion steps through him, bigger in presence than in body, his mane like a gold crown. Fenrick’s black wolf spills out of him like night, thick
The Wilder Games - Savage Surrender 1 #9 Bye, Snake
Silas Coilheart POVThe witch's scent is absolute torment, a mix of ripe berries and raw magic that claws at my senses. It's driving my serpent blood into a fucking frenzy. I coil in the shadows, hidden beneath a tangle of brambles, watching her tree perch high in the ancient oak.She's clever, this one. She uses cloaking spells, thorn barriers and arrows laced with witch fire. But no one outruns Silas Coilheart forever. I'll have her, break her, breed her, and leave her husk for the crows. My fangs drip venom at the thought, it sizzles as it hits the earth.Night blankets the Killground, the moon a thin sickle casting jagged shadows. I wait, patient as death. Her breathing slows, it's faint but steady, drifting from the high fork where she's curled. Asleep. Vulnerable. Perfect.My coils slither forward silently, my scales gliding over the moss like oil on water. The tree looms ahead, its bark scored from her climb. Her scent is the thickest at the base. I rear up, my humanoid torso r
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