[Ray's POV]
Two witches collapsed under my strikes before their bodies knew they were dead.
They weren't, of course—dead. I'd pulled the blows with surgical precision, striking nerve clusters that dropped them into unconsciousness like stones into dark water. Their bodies hit the damp earth with dull, wet thuds.
New werewolf signatures. Approaching fast through the trees.
The familiar scent of pine and iron—the unmistakable signature of Silverhowl's military—confirmed their identity before the first one landed behind me. His heavy paws crushed fallen branches with all the subtlety of a rockslide.
"Sorry, General Ray, we're—"
I didn't let him finish.
Years of battlefield instincts had me spinning before conscious thought could catch up. My hind leg lashed out in a punishing kick—controlled, precise, but carrying enough force to make the point stick.
"Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiihhhhhh!"
