The enemy had reached Red Fern Hollow before Lydia and Kiran could return, but it was not due to any mistake on their part. They had slipped into a narrow, shadowed cave hidden along the cliffside, using the rocks and darkness to remain unseen. From their hiding spot, they had lost track of the invaders' exact path, and the enemy, convinced that Lydia and Kiran had fled straight to the village, pressed on with haste.
Now, as Lydia and Kiran emerged from the cave, they were met with a sight that froze their blood. Smoke curled into the sky, thick and choking, from the huts they had called home. Shouts, screams, and the harsh clash of steel echoed across the valley. Lydia's heart thumped violently in her chest. Her father, Eliah, fought near the chief's hut, swinging his staff with all his strength to hold the youth warriors together.
"Kiran!" Lydia hissed, grabbing his arm. "We have to help!"
Kiran's eyes were wide with fear, but he nodded. "I, I'm right behind you!"
They sprinted toward the village, moving through the trees along the riverbank. Lydia's mind raced. She could see that the invaders had split into groups: some moved toward the huts, others toward the training ground where the youth warriors tried to form a line. The chaos was worse than she had imagined. The first group of invaders reached the blacksmith's hut. Sparks flew as they smashed the door and grabbed weapons. Lydia could hear the smith's cries as he tried to fend them off with a hammer. Without hesitation, Lydia drew her bow and fired an arrow. It struck a man in the shoulder, and he fell, clutching his wound. Another invader turned toward her, but Kiran shouted and distracted him long enough for her to vanish behind a wall of smoke.
Her father was locked in combat with three invaders at once. Despite his strength, Lydia saw him struggle. He blocked a strike from a sword with his staff, ducked under another swing, but the men's coordination was ruthless. One of the youth warriors fell beside him, his wooden staff snapped in two. Lydia's stomach tightened. This is worse than I imagined. She had trained for moments like this, but seeing her village under attack the people she loved made her chest ache with a fierce, burning fear.
"We have to split them up," she whispered to Kiran. "We can't fight all of them at once.",,
Kiran nodded, understanding her plan. "But how?"
Lydia's eyes swept the area. She noticed the piles of firewood near the huts, the narrow alleyways between buildings, the river running alongside the village. She could use the environment to their advantage.
"Follow me," she said, moving like a shadow through the chaos. They darted to a row of huts. Lydia picked up a heavy clay pot and rolled it down the slope. It smashed against a tree trunk, startling the invaders who had been chasing villagers. One fell, another tripped, and Lydia saw an opening near the river. She motioned to Kiran, and they led a group of youth warriors into the narrow passage between huts and trees.
The invaders roared in frustration, not expecting the villagers to resist so cleverly. Lydia ducked behind a fallen log, firing arrows with deadly precision. Each arrow found its mark, slowing the enemy's advance. Kiran followed her lead, slinging a small net over one man and tripping another with a rope he had grabbed from the blacksmith's workshop.
Eliah noticed his daughter in action and felt a swell of pride and fear at the same time. She was a whirlwind of skill, faster than any of the invaders could anticipate. Even as he fought, he shouted to the youth warriors, rallying them. "Hold your ground! Don't give an inch!"
The village itself became a battlefield. Smoke filled the air, fire crackled, and the cries of men, women, and children blended with the sounds of battle. Huts were toppled, fences broken, and the scent of charred wood stung their noses. The invaders thought they had caught the villagers off guard, but Lydia's clever ambushes turned the tide in several small skirmishes.
She paused behind a stone wall to catch her breath and assess the situation. "Kiran," she said, her voice low but firm, "we need to protect the chief's hut. If they reach him, the village loses its leadership."
He nodded, fear still evident in his wide eyes. "Let's go."
Moving with silent precision, they circled around the chaos, using trees, fallen carts, and smoke to mask their movements. Lydia spotted a group of invaders trying to surround the chief. She fired two arrows, striking one in the shoulder and another in the leg. The men stumbled back, giving Eliah and the remaining youth warriors a chance to regroup and push them away.
Even as victory flickered within reach, the battle was not over. One invader a tall man with a cruel, scarred face grabbed a young woman hiding near a cart. He raised his sword high, ready to strike. Lydia's chest tightened. She couldn't allow this. With a battle cry, she charged, staff spinning in her hands. She struck the invader's arm, forcing him to drop the sword. Kiran tackled him to the ground, tying his hands with rope. The villagers around them cheered, their spirits lifted by the display of bravery.
Hours passed, each moment stretching like a lifetime. Lydia and the youth warriors coordinated traps, pulled down fences to block pathways, and set small fires as distractions. Eliah fought tirelessly, every swing of his staff precise and deadly. Kiran learned quickly under Lydia's guidance, surprising even himself with the courage he found in the chaos.
Finally, as the sun began to dip toward the horizon, the invaders retreated. Many were wounded, and their morale shattered. Red Fern Hollow was battered, but it had survived. Lydia dropped to her knees, exhausted, sweat dripping down her face. Her father crouched beside her, breathing heavily. "You… you led them well," he said, pride in his voice. "You saved many lives today."
She shook her head. "We all did. The village… it's still standing because of everyone."
The chief approached, his face a mixture of relief and awe.
"Lydia," he said slowly, "I doubted you. I thought a girl could never lead warriors into battle. I was wrong."
Lydia straightened, her hands still gripping her staff. "I only wanted to protect my home."
The villagers gathered around, their fear now replaced by gratitude and admiration. Mothers embraced their children, men tended to the wounded, and the smoke slowly cleared from the huts. That night, as the village settled into an uneasy calm, Lydia stood on the cliff overlooking Red Fern Hollow. Her heart still raced, but a fierce determination burned in her chest. This was only the beginning. The enemy would return. And next time, she would be ready.
Kiran appeared beside her, silent but steadfast. "You're amazing, Lydia," he said quietly.
She smiled faintly, looking at the village below. "We're only as strong as the people who stand beside us. And we will never let them take our home."
The forest whispered around them, shadows dancing in the moonlight. Lydia's resolve hardened. She was the Savage Daughter, and Red Fern Hollow would survive no matter the cost.