The forest closes in around us as we move north. Thorne walks three paces ahead, wrists bound in front of him now, but I keep my knife ready. Every muscle in my body screams for rest, but Riven needs me alert.
"How much farther?" I demand, pressing closer to Thorne's back.
"Just ahead. You'll hear the water soon." His voice stays calm despite everything. "The willow trees are on the eastern bank. Look for the ones with narrow leaves and gray bark."
We crest a small rise, and he pauses. "There. Hear it?"
Running water reaches my ears. I do hear it, but my knife doesn't lower.
The stream appears through the trees exactly where he said. Willow trees cluster along the eastern bank, their branches dipping toward the water. Thorne stops and turns slightly, careful not to make sudden moves with my blade still at his spine.
"I need my hands free to strip the bark properly," he says. "If I do it wrong, it won't help him."
"You'll do it with bound hands."
"I can't. I need to peel it in long strips, not chunks. The technique matters." He keeps his voice steady. "You can keep the knife on me. Hell, you can hold my throat while I work. But I need my hands."
Riven sways beside me. His face has gone paler in just the last hour.
I cut Thorne's bindings but position myself behind him immediately, knife pressed to his neck as he kneels by the nearest willow. His hands move quickly, efficiently, peeling long strips of inner bark. He knows what he's doing.
He moves to the stream, soaking the strips. "He needs to chew this. It'll taste bitter, but he needs to get it down. Then we make a poultice for the wound itself."
I take the prepared bark, watching Thorne, and bring it to Riven. "Here. Chew this."
Riven takes it without argument. His face twists at the taste, but he forces it down. The change isn't immediate, but after a few minutes, his breathing eases.
Thorne prepares more bark, crushing and mixing it. He approaches slowly, hands visible. "I need to apply this to his shoulder. I'll need to remove the bandage."
"I'll do it."
"You need to clean the wound first with stream water. Then pack the poultice in deep. Not just on the surface. The infection is inside."
I work under his instruction, my movements precise despite every instinct telling me not to trust him. When I unwrap Riven's shoulder, the wound looks worse than before. Red. Inflamed. Oozing.
"It's bad," Thorne says quietly. "The willow bark will help, but he needs real treatment. Hardik's camp is two days north. We need to move as soon as he's stable enough to walk."
"How do I know there even is a camp?" I demand. "How do I know you're not leading us to our deaths?"
"You don't." He meets my eyes. "But look at your mate. You think he will survive if you keep running alone?"
I pack the poultice into Riven's wound. He hisses but doesn't pull away.
"Even if Hardik is alive, why would he send someone from another pack to find me?" I ask. "Why not one of his own wolves?"
"Because an outsider can move through the territories without raising suspicion. Varek's spies don't pay attention to wolves from neutral packs passing through." His voice stays matter-of-fact. "Hardik needed someone who could search freely."
"That still doesn't explain why you're helping him. Why would River Stone pack care about our internal politics?"
Thorne's expression darkens. "Because the coup didn't just affect Obsidian Pines. Every nearby pack had to choose a side. My Alpha chose to support Hardik and recognize you as the legitimate Alpha alongside Sorin."
I stare at him. "Your pack recognizes me?"
"River Stone, Dawn Valley, and Crescent Ridge all refused to acknowledge Varek's claim. They consider his coup illegal and his rule illegitimate." He holds my gaze. "But the other packs backed Varek. Granite Peak, Shadow Creek, and Iron Falls. Probably because they're afraid of him, or they see opportunity in the chaos. The territories are divided now. This isn't just about Obsidian Pines anymore. It's about whether wolves can murder their way to power and have it recognized."
The honesty sounds more believable than any pretty lie would have.
Riven opens his eyes, looking at me. "I trust him," he says quietly. "Or at least, I trust that his pack has a stake in this. That's motivation enough."
I sit back on my heels, looking between them. Every instinct screams not to trust this stranger. But Riven is dying, and I'm out of options.
"If you're lying," I say to Thorne, my voice deadly quiet, "if this is a trap, I'll make sure you die first. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"And you walk bound. The entire way to this supposed camp."
"Fine."
I re-tie his wrists, this time in front so he can walk more easily, but I keep my knife ready. We rest for an hour while the willow bark takes effect. Riven's breathing steadies. Color returns to his face, though not enough.
"We need to move," Thorne says finally. "The longer we wait, the worse his infection gets."
I help Riven stand. He's stronger than before, but still weak.
"Two days north?" I ask.
"Two days if we don't stop much. Less if we push hard."
"Then we push hard."
We start walking. The forest thickens around us. Every shadow could hide Varek's wolves. Every sound could be an ambush.
Thorne sets a steady pace, careful not to move too fast for Riven. I walk close to my mate, ready to catch him if he stumbles.
"Tell me about Hardik's camp," I say to Thorne. "How many wolves does he have?"
"Last I counted, maybe thirty. More arrive every day. Wolves who escaped Varek or refuse to acknowledge him."
"Thirty against Varek's entire pack." The odds sound impossible.
"Thirty loyal wolves," Thorne corrects. "Worth more than a hundred cowards."
Riven coughs beside me. Not blood this time, but the sound still makes my chest tight.
"How are you feeling?" I ask him.
"Better. The willow bark is working." He manages a small smile. "You're stuck with me a while longer."
"Great. I'm not done with you yet."
His hand finds mine, squeezing gently. The contact sends warmth through me despite everything.
But Riven walks beside me, and that's enough.
For now.