Cobalt Goldlight's Arc

Chapter 10 of 12

Cobalt saw the hunters before they saw him. Two shapes moving through the trees on the eastern edge of the clearing, rifles slung across their backs, eyes scanning the ground. They were following tracks — his tracks, probably, or maybe Kiara's from yesterday. Either way, they were moving toward the arch, and if they reached it they'd find the cabin, the territorial markers, everything that pointed to people living here. He shifted and ran low through the clearing, circling wide to reach the old lookout post he'd abandoned two days ago. The small shelter sat at the tree line where the path split in three directions, half-buried in snow that hadn't been disturbed since he'd stopped using it. He'd left blankets there, water containers, a map marking the cabin's location. Everything that would tell the hunters exactly where to go next. Cobalt grabbed the cypress branches he'd cut yesterday and swept them across his own footprints leading away from the lookout, then dragged them backward as he retreated. The snow filled in behind him, smoothing over the trail until the path looked like it led nowhere but deeper into Arrow's territory — a dead end the hunters wouldn't risk following. He reached the lookout and worked fast. The blankets went into his pack. The water containers got buried under rocks a hundred yards south. The map he tore into pieces and scattered across the frozen ground where the wind would take them. Then he took the remaining cypress branches and swept them across every surface inside the shelter, erasing prints and scent marks until nothing remained but bare wood and old snow. The hunters would find the lookout eventually, but they'd find it empty, pointing them toward werewolf territory instead of toward the arch. It would buy him time — maybe a day, maybe less. Cobalt stood at the path split and watched the tree line where the hunters were still moving. They'd reached the clearing now, stopping at the edge to study the ground. One of them pointed toward the eastern ridge. The other shook his head and gestured toward the forest. They were arguing about which direction to follow. Cobalt waited until they chose the ridge path — away from the cabin, away from the arch — then turned and walked back across the clearing. The lookout was gone. The trail was broken. The hunters would find nothing that led them to his people's shelter. He'd held the door open, and now he'd made sure no one could slam it shut.