Chapter 522: Through the Western Packs
One Month Before
The laughter began before Tobias even realized it.
Craig, Anderson, and the other warriors strode ahead, their boots loud against the dirt path.
Tobias’s eyes scanned everything—the layout of the pack, the people, the expressions of fear and obedience pressed into every line of their faces.
"This has to be the most useless pack in the west," a warrior said, kicking a stone along the path. "Right next to the border and they have nothing. Nothing at all."
Another joined in. "No won to sleep with. No food. Not even a decent weapon among them. Absolute nothingness."
The group chuckled. A third, leaning on his sword hilt, added, "But at least they know their place. Always giving us the respect we deserve."
Anderson laughed loudly at that, nudging Craig. "See? Respect is everything. These weaklings know it."
A fourth voice piped up, rough and cheerful. "I should have joined Victoria’s warriors sooner. Glad I didn’t hesitate when it was ti, though."
Tobias observed quietly. He kept pace with the group, eyes forward, but each word was etched into his mory. The n’s humor was cruel, habitual, casual. And the pack beneath their boots bore it all without a sound.
Another, younger warrior, grinned broadly. "And it’s only after joining that I got to taste delicate beauties. But none as sweet... none as perfect as the one Anderson and Craig were talking about."
Tobias stiffened slightly, but his expression remained neutral. He forced himself to inhale, exhale, and keep walking. He had a purpose here. Any reaction could betray him.
The path widened as they passed through the first cluster of houses. One of the warriors carelessly stepped on the shoulder of a kneeling pack mber. The man crumpled slightly beneath the weight, letting out a choked sound.
Tobias’s eyes followed him.
Many of the pack mbers were crying, their lips trembling, eyes wet with fear, yet not one dared to speak or lift their voice.
The sight twisted sothing in Tobias’s chest. Skin stretched over bones, patches of bruising, blood crusted across small cuts on arms and faces—these people were malnourished. Starved even. And they were still here, clinging to life, clinging to each other, and bowing as if that could protect them from the inevitable.
He wondered silently, in the sa quiet way he forced himself to blend in, how such a pack could even exist here.
Where the acclaid Luna, the leader, resided—where prosperity should have reigned—they were worse off than even Tobias’s own pack, which survived in harsh weather, fought through storms, and endured unforgiving conditions.
The people in his pack were adequately fed. None of the children lacked food, either.
Tobias’s stomach churned. He wanted to act. He wanted to do sothing, anything, to alleviate the suffering. But here, surrounded by warriors who could see through any hesitation, any attempt to help would only draw suspicion. His cover would be blown imdiately.
So he made a silent promise to co back. To help them either alone or with help from soone else—but he would co back.
The group moved on, leaving the first pack behind. The path wound through trees at irregular intervals, each turn revealing another cluster of small wooden houses. Tobias followed the warriors silently, noting patterns of fear, the huddling of families, and the trembling of children who dared not make eye contact.
The next pack was similar in size but slightly better off. Tobias noticed the people here, though malnourished, carried themselves with a trace of pride. They smiled quietly at each other as the warriors approached, but the smiles vanished instantly when Craig whistled sharply.
"Look alive, now!" Craig barked.
The pack dropped to their knees without hesitation. Heads lowered to the dirt. Hands pressed to the ground. Even those who had been smiling monts before now bowed completely, terrified.
The contrast was striking. Here, hope lingered in their eyes, faint and fleeting. In the first pack, despair had consud every movent, every gesture. In this one, pride and survival had clung just enough to let them smile, if only briefly.
Tobias’s mind churned. His fists clenched behind his back. His throat tightened at the inequity of it all.
"Pathetic," one of the warriors muttered, kicking the dirt near a child’s foot. The boy flinched but did not cry out.
As they passed through this pack, the path narrowed again. Trees lined the way, creating a natural corridor, shadows dancing on the ground as the warriors’ boots echoed. The air was thick with the sll of unwashed bodies, cooking fires, and fear. Tobias forced himself to breathe slowly, keeping pace with the laughter and casual conversation of the group, even as his mind raced with plans of justice and vengeance.
Finally, the trees thinned, revealing the gates of the Luna’s pack.
The first glimpse of the settlent stunned Tobias, even with the grotesque lens through which he had been seeing the west.
The pack here was larger, cleaner, and wealthier. The wooden structures were reinforced, painted, and well-maintained. Flags bearing the Luna’s emblem fluttered over the rooftops. Smoke rose neatly from chimneys. Guards were stationed at regular intervals, polished weapons gleaming in the sun.
As the warriors approached, the people outside froze. And then, as before, sothing Tobias had not expected occurred.
One by one, every mber of the Luna’s pack dropped to their knees.
Their heads lowered to the ground in complete obedience.
Faces pressed against the dirt, hands braced beside them. No one spoke, no one dared to look up.
The warriors passed through like kings entering their domain. Tobias noted the polished weapons, the careful maintenance of the streets, the apparent wealth. Everything scread strength and order.
He almost allowed himself a small sense of relief—until he noticed the children.
They lined the corners of every street, ragged clothing hanging off their thin fras. So were barefoot, their feet blistered and red from walking on rough ground. Their eyes followed the warriors silently, wide with fear and hunger.
Tobias’s stomach sank.
Dead bodies lay scattered in the alleys, discarded like refuse. The sll of decay hung faintly in the air.
Anderson muttered, loud enough for Tobias to hear, "Victoria should assign people to carry all this filth away from the pack. Bad influence, every last one of them."
Paul nodded in agreent, stepping lightly over a child who had collapsed near the gate.
"They do nothing but sll and beg for food," he said. "Not my fault their parents can’t afford them."
He laughed softly, a cruel, echoing sound that made Tobias’s jaw tighten. Anderson laughed in agreent.
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