Page 74 of Mate Night Snack
"How's the positioning?" Emmett asked, though he already knew the answer. They'd gone over the plan a dozen times, mapped every angle, accounted for every variable they could think of.
"Sight lines are clear from all three concealment points. Communication crystals are charged and tested. If anything goes wrong, we'll know about it immediately." Callum straightened, brushing dirt from his hands. "This could actually work."
The problem wasn't whether it could work. The problem was what happened if it didn't.
"Emmett." Varric's voice carried across the clearing as the elder approached with his characteristic measured stride. "How are you holding up?"
"Fine." The lie came automatically, though he doubted it fooled anyone.
"It's natural to have concerns about using one's mate as bait," Varric said diplomatically. "The protective instincts of a bonded wolf are not easily overridden."
"I know the plan is sound," Emmett replied, watching Callum position another ward stone with careful precision. "Doesn't make it easier."
"No. It doesn't." Varric studied the clearing with ancient eyes that had seen too many battles, too many impossible choices. "But perhaps that's what makes it right. If this were easy, if youfelt no fear for her safety, it would mean you'd stopped caring. And caring is what separates us from monsters like Ashwin."
Before Emmett could respond, the sound of approaching voices announced the arrival of the rest of their planning committee. Maeve emerged from the forest path carrying a leather weapons case that clinked ominously with each step. Behind her came Twyla, laden with satchels that smelled of herbs and moonlight, and Miriam with a basket that probably contained enough food to feed a small army.
"How's our killing ground looking?" Maeve asked without preamble, setting down her case and surveying the clearing with professional interest.
"Like a place where bad things come to die," Callum replied with satisfaction.
Maeve grinned, showing teeth that looked slightly too sharp in the afternoon light. "Perfect."
She opened her weapons case, revealing an array of blades that gleamed like captured starlight. Not ordinary steel, but something else, something that hummed with protective magic and thirsted for supernatural blood.
"Twyla blessed them," she explained, selecting a throwing knife and testing its balance. "Cold iron cores, silver edges, and enough purification charms to make any shadow creature think twice."
"Will they be enough?" Emmett asked.
"Depends on how many friends Ashwin brings to the party." Maeve's expression grew serious. "But if it's just him and a couple of scouts, yeah. We'll have more than enough firepower."
Twyla began arranging small glass vials in a careful pattern around the Stone's base, each one glowing with soft inner light. "Protection potions," she explained when she noticed Emmett watching. "Nothing fancy, just basic shielding magic that'll give our girl a few extra seconds if things go sideways."
"And if they don't work?"
"Then we improvise." Twyla's usual cheerful demeanor had given way to something more focused, more dangerous. "But they'll work. I've been brewing these particular recipes for years, ever since the first girl went missing. They're specifically designed to counter shadow magic."
Miriam unpacked her basket with the efficiency of someone who'd provisioned for crisis before. Sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, thermoses of soup that steamed in the cooling air, packets of dried fruit and nuts that would keep energy levels steady through a long night.
"Food," she said simply when Emmett raised an eyebrow. "You can't fight on empty stomachs, and this could take hours."
The practicality of it struck him suddenly. Not just the food, but all of it. The careful planning, the specialized weapons, the protective magic, the way everyone had simply accepted that this was what needed to be done and thrown themselves into making it happen.
Since his exile, Emmett finally felt like he was part of something bigger than himself. Not just a collection of individuals pursuing their own goals, but a genuine pack. United in purpose, committed to protecting one of their own, willing to risk everything for the chance at victory.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Varric looked up from where he was inscribing runes into the earth around the Stone. "For what?"
"For this. All of it. For believing in her plan, for helping make it work, for..." He gestured helplessly at the scene around them. "For letting me be part of it."
"You've always been part of it," Miriam said gently. "From the moment you chose to protect this town instead of just hiding in it. The only one who didn't see that was you."
Before he could respond, footsteps announced another arrival. Katniss emerged from the forest path, looking determined and terrified in equal measure. She'd changed into dark clothing that would blend with the shadows, and her injured arm was free of its sling.
"How's it looking?" she asked, though her eyes were already cataloguing every detail of the preparations.
"Like a trap worthy of the prey it's meant to catch," Varric replied.
