The sound of marching feet carried through the trees long before the scouts appeared.

  Outside the den, Dravak stood watching as the Ironfang warriors drilled in formation. Rows of shields rose and locked together, the front line braced while the second rank thrust forward with wooden spears. Throk barked orders from the front, pacing along the line, his voice rough and clear. The steady rhythm of boots and commands filled the clearing like the beat of a drum.

  When the first wolves broke through the treeline, he called a halt to the training. Heads turned. The warriors lowered their weapons and straightened as the riders came into view.

  Kesh rode at the front, her cloak streaked with mud, the wolf beneath her panting hard but steady. Behind her followed the rest of the scouting parties, their mounts burdened with rolled hides, charcoal sketches, and small bundles of marked stones.

  Throk greeted her as he stepped aside, giving them room as they crossed the clearing. Dravak was already waiting near the mouth of the den, his arms crossed as the wolves slowed to a halt before him.

  Kesh swung down and bowed her head once. “We found three sites that would serve us well in a battle,” she said, untying the bundle from her saddle. “Each one has its own strengths. All are within reach of the Bonegnasher lands.” She held out the hides to Dravak.

  Dravak took them from her and glanced quickly at the maps, seeing the rough lines of charcoal marking rivers, slopes, and narrow paths through the forest. He gave a small nod and rolled them closed again before handing them back. His gaze fell upon the others standing behind her. “Good work. We’ll wait to decide our next step until Grub returns. No sense planning half blind.”

  Kesh nodded. “That's good. We need to rest. We've been out for a few days now, and we're all worn pretty thin.”

  “Eat and rest,” Dravak said to the small group before him. “When everyone’s back, we’ll talk.”

  She gave a short nod and turned to her riders. The Fangs of Winter moved as one, dismounting in smooth rhythm. Together, they removed the wolves’ harnesses and gear, stacking saddles and packs neatly near the edge of the clearing. Then, with quiet words and light gestures, they released their mounts.

  The great beasts stretched and shook the stiffness from their limbs before padding toward the stream beside the clearing. Some drank deeply, others rolled in the damp grass. Their riders watched for a moment before turning to tend to their own needs. The smell of meat and smoke rose as others brought out food and water for both goblin and wolf alike.

  Dravak lingered at the den entrance, looking toward the trees. Beyond the clearing, the forest swayed gently in the wind, the scent of pine drifting through the air. Around him, the Ironfang moved with the calm efficiency of routine. No nervous chatter, no excitement, just readiness.

  The scouts had done their part well. Now they would wait for the rest to return.

  Hours later, the rhythmic thud of paws carried through the forest once again. The warriors drilling outside paused, turning towards the sound.

  Ashpaw appeared first, his dark fur streaked with dirt, Rika seated firm in the saddle with Hask and one scout behind her. Sable followed close behind, smaller and leaner but just as sure-footed, carrying Grub and the second scout. Both wolves slowed to a steady trot as they entered the clearing, their breaths heavy from the long run.

  The Ironfang parted to let them through. A few moments later, Dravak stepped forward from the den’s entrance, his expression sharp.

  Grub swung down first, landing lightly and reaching up to loosen Sable’s harness. Rika dismounted beside him, moving to unbuckle Ashpaw’s gear. Together, they removed the wolves’ equipment, stacked the saddles and straps neatly with the others, and freed the animals to rest.

  The wolves stretched, tails flicking as they padded toward the stream. They drank deeply, then tore into strips of dried meat thrown to them by handlers. When they finished, they rolled in the cool grass with their brothers and sisters, grunting and yipping with satisfaction.

  Dravak’s voice came from behind. “You’re back.” Grub turned and gave a short nod. “We are.” The chief’s gaze swept over them, assessing quickly. “Kesh and her scouts returned this morning. The fields are found. We’ll meet tonight once you’ve rested and eaten. No point talking while you’re half-dead on your feet.”

  Grub gave a small grin. “Fair enough.” Dravak’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before he turned and disappeared back into the den’s shadow.

  Rika exhaled softly. “I think that’s his way of saying he’s glad we’re alive.”

  Grub just chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. He doesn't like to waste words.” Hask grinned beside them. "I like a chief that speaks plainly."

  Grub smiled faintly, then glanced toward the stream. The wolves had settled near the water, their sides rising and falling in slow rhythm as they drifted toward sleep in a big furry pile.

  “Eat and rest,” Grub said to the others. “We’ll need clear heads tonight.”

  They spent the next hours tending to their gear, cleaning weapons, and eating in the firelight in the cavern. Word spread quickly through the den that Grub and his party had returned, and with it came a growing sense of anticipation. Every goblin knew what that meant.

  By the time the sun had fallen and torches burned along the cavern walls, the den was hushed and expectant. The waiting was over.

  That evening, the leaders gathered in Dravak’s private chamber to plan the war.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  The private chamber was dimly lit, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows along the walls. The scent of smoke hung in the still air. Around the broad stone table, the Ironfang’s leaders gathered: Dravak at the head, Kesh, Throk, Rika, Grub, and Hask around him.

  "Kesh, begin with your report on the battlefields you and the others found these past few days," Dravak grunted. Kesh set a bundle of rolled hides on the table and weighed the corners with flat stones. “Three potential battlefields,” she began, her voice clear. “All within Bonegnasher territory, each with strengths of its own.”

  She unrolled the first hide. The crude lines of charcoal traced a rising slope and narrowing ridge. “This is The Ridge,” she said. “It gives us high ground, forces the enemy into a narrow approach, and has firm footing. We can force the enemy to climb into us and limit how many reach the line at once. It gives our archers clear shots and makes our shield wall nearly unbreakable.”

  She spread the next hide across the stone. Circles and shaded swaths marked uneven ground. “Next we have The Basin. A dry center surrounded by mud and shallow pools. It’s a trap in itself. They’d bog down before reaching us while we hold the dry ground. Any direct charge turns into chaos.”

  Finally, she laid out the last map, marked by the dark curve of a river bending through flat terrain. “And lastly, The Bend. Open flat ground, firm beside the river. One flank is protected by water, the other by forest. Room for our ranks to maneuver freely and maintain formation.”

  Dravak studied the maps without comment.

  Kesh looked between them all. “If I had to choose,” she said, “I would take the Ridge. It’s the most defensible. We can dictate the terms of the battle there.”

  Rika shook her head slightly. “The Basin,” she said, tapping the hide with one finger. “It gives us cover to move. The wolves can vanish through the mud and strike from the edges. If the Bonegnashers get bogged down, the Fangs can tear through them before they know what hit them.”

  Throk gave a deep, rumbling chuckle. “You can keep your mud and slopes. I’ll take clean ground every time.” He jabbed a thick finger at the Bend. “Flat, firm, simple. A line that can’t be flanked. We can hold steady, let them come to us, and break them in the open where their size counts for nothing. We have the advantage in a straight fight anyways.”

  Dravak leaned back slightly, gaze steady on the maps. “We’ve seen what each offers,” he said. “Now we wait for the final piece of the picture." He nodded to Grub. "Your report.”

  Grub rested his hands on the edge of the table, the faint glow of the torchlight catching his eyes. “Vexa’s smart,” he said. “And tired of Skarn’s stupidity. I told her what we are, and what we’ve done with the tribes we’ve conquered. She listened. She knows we don’t just kill for fun. I told her that if she wants her people to live through this, she’ll need to strike when it matters, open a line we can use.”

  Dravak tilted his head. “You trust her to do it?” Grub shrugged. “Yes and no. She made no promises, but I believe she’ll do what helps her tribe survive. That’s enough. As Throk said, even without her interference, we have the strength to win in a clean fight.”

  The others were silent for a moment, the fire crackling softly in the corner.

  “Then we plan for both options. Either she moves against Skarn or she doesn't,” Dravak said. “Which ground favors that?”

  Grub studied the maps for a moment, then spoke. “The Bend. There's open ground. Room to move. If she decides to strike, she’ll have the space to do it. The Ridge and Basin trap her as much as Skarn. The Bend gives her the freedom to act and gives us the control we need if she doesn't.”

  Kesh ran a hand along the edge of the map. “It’s the easiest of the three to reach and shape ahead of time, too.” Throk nodded firmly. “It’s settled then. The Bend.”

  Dravak gave a slow nod. “Good. Hask, you and twenty of your warriors will march at first light to prepare the ground. Dig, set stakes, lay your traps. The rest will follow in three days once we are ready.”

  Hask inclined his head. “We’ll make sure the ground is ready for you.”

  Rika leaned on her elbows, looking between them. "That's all good and fine, but what makes you think the Bonegnashers will even come to us? They could just stay in their camp, and let us rot trying to draw them out.”

  That drew a thoughtful silence. One by one they turned to Grub, as if they knew what was coming.

  Grub looked thoughtfully down at the hide on the table, then tapped the map once with a fingertip. “They’ll come,” he said. “We’ll make sure of it.” Dravak’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And how do you propose we do that?”

  Grub straightened. “We march in force. Not just warriors, but everyone who can build or fight. We’ll make camp at the Bend and build it up like we’re settling in. No hiding. Fires burning day and night. Shelters raised. We’ll bring the builders to help dig trenches and cages. Cages for prisoners.”

  The others stared at him.

  Grub continued. “We’ll send the Fangs of Winter to ambush Bonegnasher hunting parties, same as we did to the Red Tusk. We capture them alive, and bring them back to our camp, where we keep them caged out in the open where they will be seen. Once enough of their hunters vanish, Skarn will send scouts to try and find out why his hunters aren't coming back. They’ll find us squatting right in the middle of his hunting grounds, holding his people in plain sight.”

  A few long seconds passed in silence before Kesh spoke quietly. “That would likely force his hand.”

  “He’ll have to attack,” Grub said. “Skarn doesn’t think beyond his pride. Our scouts and Vexa herself have said as much. Once he sees us camping so brazenly on his land, he’ll come charging in. And when he does, he walks straight into the ground we’ve prepared for him. He won't realize it's a trap until he's already in it.”

  The silence that followed was thicker than before. Kesh stared at him with narrowed eyes as she thought through it. Rika blinked a few times. Even Throk hesitated a moment before grinning broadly.

  Dravak broke the stillness with a slow exhale. “Now you see why I like him,” he muttered under his breath through a grin. "Human thinking." Grub smirked faintly. “Maybe. But it works.”

  One by one, heads began to nod around the table. Dravak’s expression hardened with approval. “Then we do it. Hask will take his twenty ahead as planned. But Throk, you’ll march alongside him with your twenty and the fifteen builders too. I don't want them to be able to attack before everyone else arrives. You'll go and settle in defensively. I want the ground ready when we arrive.” Throk grunted in acknowledgment. “It will be done, Chief.”

  Dravak gave a short nod. “Good. Then we're decided.”

  He turned toward the tunnel that led out into the main den. “They’ll want to hear what comes next.”

  Minutes later, the tribe was gathered in the wide main cavern, faces lit by the glow of torches. The low murmur of voices fell silent as Dravak stepped forward, his shadow stretching long across the stone.

  “The Ironfang will march on the Bonegnashers,” he said, his voice carrying through the still air. “At dawn, Hask and Throk will lead forty warriors and the builders to raise a forward camp. The rest will follow the next day once supplies are ready.”

  He let his gaze sweep the crowd. “Those who stay behind will guard the den. This is just as important, if not more, than our attack on the Bonegnasher territory. We will leave behind ten warriors to hold the cavern. The mothers and expecting will remain here with them to keep the fires and care for the young. They are our future. Everyone else will march.”

  The crowd remained still, listening intently.

  Dravak lowered his voice just enough that it seemed to pull them closer. “We go to claim what is ours. To take strength from those who waste it." His voice rose as he continued. "We go to grow our tribe even stronger. Rest tonight. Eat well. At dawn, we start building the ground our enemies will die on.” The final line was delivered in a shout, and a deep, unified roar rose from the crowd. It was not wild or reckless, but steady and full of purpose.

  The Ironfang were marching to war.