The human base was smaller than the one on the coast—a supply depot, lightly guarded, stocked with food and medicine and equipment the survivors desperately needed.
Kaelen led the raid himself.
Twenty warriors, Metkayina and Omaticaya, moving through the darkness like ghosts. They knew this terrain now—had spent weeks scouting, planning, preparing. They knew where the guards walked, when they changed shifts, where the supplies were stored.
They struck at midnight.
It was over in minutes. The guards never had a chance—arrows in the darkness, knives in the shadows, silence and speed and the fury of a people with nothing left to lose.
Kaelen stood in the supply depot, surrounded by boxes of food, crates of medicine, equipment he couldn't even name. His people moved past him, loading what they could carry, their faces lit with something he hadn't seen in months.
Hope.
"We did it," Seri said, appearing at his side. "We actually did it."
"This is just the beginning." He looked at her. "They'll come looking. They'll find the valley eventually. We've bought time, but we haven't bought safety."
"No." She took his hand. "But we've bought something. And right now, that's enough."