Theron's POV
The woman named Kira is going to get Isla killed.
"You can't take over the Beastworld!" I roar, stepping between Isla and this stranger who speaks the human language. "These clans will tear you apart!"
Kira doesn't even flinch. Her gold eyes remain calm, almost amused. "I already have taken over three territories. Killed two chieftains who refused to cooperate. The rest bowed." She looks past me at Isla. "With you and your alpha's power, I can take the rest."
"I'm not helping you hurt anyone," Isla rasps, her damaged voice barely audible.
"You think you have a choice?" Kira laughs. "Look behind you."
We turn. The army from the canyon has stopped at the entrance, but they're not retreating. They're waiting. Watching. And I realize with horror that they're not here to attack.
They're here to see what Kira wants.
"These warriors follow me," Kira says. "Because I proved humans aren't weak. I showed them we're useful." Her smile turns sharp. "Just like you showed your little pack with your meat preservation trick. Very clever, by the way."
"How long have you been watching us?" Draven's voice is deadly quiet.
"Since the bear clan attacked. I wanted to see if the rumors were true—an alpha with ancient power and a human who makes him glow." Kira's golden eyes focus on me. "And you. The healer who cries over wounded enemies. How touching."
Something in my chest burns. She wasn't there. She doesn't know what it's like to watch someone die because you don't know how to save them.
"We're leaving," Draven announces. "Get out of our way."
"Can't do that." Kira twirls her strange spear. "I need what you have. Join me willingly or I take you by force. Either way, you're coming."
The air crackles with tension. Draven's eyes begin to glow blue. Silas coils, ready to strike. Caspian's wings spread.
But I'm watching Isla.
She's studying Kira with those sharp honey eyes, and I can see her brain working. Calculating. Planning. The same way she looked at the rotten meat before solving our food problem.
"Wait," Isla says suddenly. She steps forward despite Draven trying to hold her back. "You want to take over the Beastworld?"
"Finally, someone who understands." Kira nods.
"Then you need more than warriors." Isla's voice is getting stronger, more confident. "You need food. Medicine. Shelter that doesn't collapse. You need what I know."
My heart stops. Is she actually considering this?
"Keep talking," Kira says.
"Teach me your language," Isla continues. "Let me learn how this world works. In exchange, I'll teach your people how to preserve food, treat wounds, build better shelters." She pauses. "But I won't help you kill anyone. Only survive."
Kira's eyes narrow. "You're trying to bargain? You have nothing I can't take by force."
"You can take me," Isla agrees. "But you can't take my knowledge if I refuse to share it. You can torture me, threaten me, kill me—but you still won't know how to keep meat from rotting or how to treat infected wounds."
The silence stretches.
I've never been more terrified or more proud.
This fragile human is standing up to a warrior who's conquered three territories. She can barely stand, can barely speak, but she's negotiating like her life isn't in danger.
"One week," Kira says finally. "You have one week to prove your knowledge is worth protecting. Teach my camp food preservation. If it works, we'll talk about medicine and shelter." She looks at Draven. "And you keep your pack controlled. Any trouble, and I kill the girl first."
"Deal," Isla says before Draven can protest.
"NO deal!" Draven snarls. "We're not going anywhere with—"
Isla touches his arm. Looks up at him with those pleading eyes. "We don't have a choice. The army is behind us. Kira is in front. And I'm too weak to run."
She's right, and we all know it. But everything in my healer's heart screams that this is wrong. Dangerous.
"Fine," Draven says through clenched teeth. "One week. Then we're gone."
Kira smiles. "We'll see."
The camp is massive. Hundreds of beast-men and at least twenty humans—all female, all looking both terrified and defiant. They stare at Isla like she's a ghost.
"You're the one," a small blonde human whispers. "The one who made an alpha glow."
"I didn't make him do anything," Isla protests.
"Doesn't matter." The blonde girl's eyes are haunted. "Kira's been searching for someone like you. Someone who can unlock alpha power. She thinks if she controls you, she controls the strongest warriors."
My blood runs cold. We walked right into a trap.
Kira shows us to a tent—nicer than the cave but still a prison. Guards stand at every exit. We're not guests. We're captives.
"I need to examine Isla's injuries," I tell the guards. "Alone."
They refuse. One stays inside the tent, watching us with suspicious yellow eyes.
I guide Isla to sit down and check her ribs. They're healing but still tender. Her throat is badly bruised. She needs rest, medicine, time.
She has none of those things.
"I'm sorry," I whisper in our language, knowing the guard can't understand. "I couldn't protect you from this."
Isla looks at me with those honey eyes and smiles. Actually smiles.
Then she does something that changes everything.
She points at herself. "Isla." Points at me. "Theron." Then she points at the guard. Raises her eyebrows in question.
The guard blinks, surprised. "Ragnar," he grunts.
Isla repeats: "Ragnar." Then she mimes eating, holds her stomach, makes a happy face.
She's asking if he's hungry. If he wants food.
The guard—Ragnar—looks confused but nods.
Isla pulls out a piece of the preserved meat we brought. Offers it to him.
Ragnar takes it suspiciously. Sniffs it. Takes a tiny bite. His eyes go wide.
"This... this is good," he says in the common beast language. "Not rotten. How?"
Isla mimes the whole process—cutting thin, rubbing salt, drying by fire. Ragnar watches, fascinated.
And I understand what she's doing.
She's not just surviving. She's teaching. Sharing. Making herself valuable not through force but through knowledge.
By the time Ragnar leaves to change shifts, he's carrying three pieces of preserved meat to share with the other guards. And he's smiling.
"You're brilliant," I tell Isla, even though she can't understand my words.
She just shrugs. But there's determination in her eyes. She has a plan.
The next three days blur together. Isla teaches anyone who'll listen—guards, warriors, the captured human women. She shows them food preservation, basic wound care, how to make clean bandages.
The humans especially cling to her. They've been here longer, learned the beast language better. They translate for Isla, teach her words in exchange for survival knowledge.
"Kira won't like this," Silas warns on the fourth day. "You're making the prisoners loyal to Isla instead of her."
He's right. I can see it happening. The guards ask Isla questions instead of ordering her around. The human women look at her like she's their leader.
And Kira notices.
On the fifth day, Kira summons us to her tent.
"You're causing problems," she says bluntly, staring at Isla.
"I'm teaching like you asked," Isla replies carefully.
"You're teaching them to love you. That's different." Kira's gold eyes flash dangerously. "I need warriors who obey commands, not think for themselves."
"Then you don't need me," Isla says quietly. "Everything I know is about thinking. Planning. Working together. If you just want mindless soldiers, find someone else."
The tent goes dead silent.
Kira stands. Walks over to Isla. And slaps her.
Isla's head snaps to the side. Blood trickles from her split lip.
I move without thinking—shifting to tiger form, roaring, ready to tear Kira apart for touching my patient.
But Draven is faster. The blue light explodes from him, filling the tent with blazing azure power. The tent poles crack. The ground shakes.
And Kira laughs.
"There it is," she breathes. "The ancient power. Every time she's threatened, you glow." She looks at her guards. "Take him. Drug him if you have to. I need to study what makes him special."
Six warriors pile onto Draven. He's strong but they're many. Caspian tries to help and gets clubbed to the ground. Silas strikes at one warrior but three more grab him.
I lunge for Isla, trying to shield her.
But Kira is faster. She grabs Isla by the throat—right over her bruises—and squeezes.
"Stop fighting or I crush her windpipe," Kira says calmly.
Draven freezes. The blue light flickers.
"That's what I thought." Kira releases Isla, who collapses gasping. "Chain them all. Separately. The human stays with me. I'm going to figure out exactly what makes her so special."
They drag us away—Draven still glowing, Caspian unconscious, Silas hissing threats.
I'm thrown into a cage made of bone and sinew. Through the bars, I can just barely see another cage. And inside it, curled up and shaking, is Isla.
Her eyes meet mine.
She mouths something. I can't hear it, but I can read her lips: "I'm sorry."
She's apologizing. As if any of this is her fault.
That's when I realize what's been bothering me since we met her.
She's not useless because she can't fight or hunt. She's dangerous because she makes us CARE. Makes us want to protect her. Makes us better.
And Kira knows it.
The real question is: what is Kira going to do with that power?
I'm about to find out because Kira walks over to Isla's cage, unlocks it, and pulls her out.
"Time for some tests," Kira says cheerfully. "Let's see what happens when a human bleeds near an alpha with ancient power."
She pulls out a knife.
And I start screaming.