Page 40 of Savage Devotion
Coordinated assault. Long-term planning.
Someone's been preparing this for months.
Intelligence failure on our part.
I glance at Ressa, who's been listening. Her expression reveals nothing, but I feel the slight tension around her eyes that suggests personal concern.
Worry for my safety?
Professional interest in tactical developments?
Both?
"Time frame for assembly?"
"Dawn march. Full war party." Garok straightens despite his obvious exhaustion. "Drokhan wants you leading the advance scouts. Standard reconnaissance before main assault."
My specialty. Advance intelligence.
Map enemy positions, identify weaknesses.
Guide the attack that keeps our people alive.
The familiar weight of responsibility settles across my shoulders like worn armor. This is what I do, what I'm trained for, what clan survival depends on. Personal complications must wait.
Duty before desire.
Always.
Even when it tears at something inside my chest.
"I'll need an hour to prepare equipment and brief my second on camp security."
Garok nods, sliding off his horse with visible relief. "I'll tend to my mount and grab some food. Been riding straight through since the summons."
Standard procedure. Practical necessity.
Also gives me time to explain the situation to Ressa.
Time to ensure she's protected while I'm gone.
I turn to face her, noting the way she's already mentally calculating implications. Her tactical mind works through possibilities with the speed that separates competent officers from dead ones.
"How long will you be gone?"
Direct question. Practical concern.
No emotional complications. Yet.
"Unknown. Depends on enemy deployment and tactical requirements." I meet her gaze directly. "Could be days. Could be weeks."
Truth. Military reality.
Uncertainty that makes planning difficult.
"And this camp?"
"Holds strategic value. Forward position for clan operations." I gesture toward the equipment storage, the defensive improvements we've made. "Abandoning it would concede tactical advantage."
