The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 62

Chapter 62 – Alone With the Wind

Nevara

We split at exactly nine.

No speeches. No dramatic send–offs. Just three nods and three different directions as the sun climbed above the treeline and the world narrowed to whatever lay ahead of us.

Jones headed east, whistling like this was some weekend camping trip. Hopkins went south without a word, shoulders set, eyes already distant. I turned north, adjusted my pack, and pulled out my map.

Solo mission. Forty–eight hours. Extraction at nine a.m. on the third day.

I unfolded the mission card and read it again as I walked, committing every word to memory.

OBJECTIVE:

Reach your designated extraction point by 09:00 on Day Three.

SECONDARY OBJECTIVE:

Locate and collect all marked signal flags along your route.

Failure to retrieve all flags will result in disqualification.

CONDITIONS:

No communication.

No assistance.

Survive.

Simple. Brutal. Clean.

I traced my route with a finger. Five flags spaced along a rough arc through mixed forest and shallow ravines. If I kept a steady pace, I could grab the first two today, camp near a water source, then push hard

tomorrow.

I started moving.

The forest swallowed sound quickly. After an hour, the only noise was my breathing and the rhythmic crunch of boots on leaf litter. By midmorning, sweat clung to my spine despite the cool air

That was when I smelled it.

Something familiar.

I slowed, lifting my head, testing the wind.

Woodsmoke? No. Not quite.

< Chapter 62 – Alone With the Wind

Leather? Fur? Something old.

My stomach tightened–but after a moment, I shook it off.

You’re alone. Your senses are just sharp right now.

I’d been surrounded by people for weeks. Silence could play tricks on anyone.

+25 Point

By noon, I found the first flag–a strip of red fabric tied to a cedar branch, fluttering like a challenge. I

pulled it down, folded it neatly, and stowed it in my pack.

One down.

An hour later, I stopped near a fallen log to drink and recheck my bearings. I crouched, pulled out my compass, then paused.

The smell was back.

Stronger this time.

I inhaled slowly, unease crawling up my spine. It tugged at something instinctual–something buried deep

Wolf?

No. Impossible. This is Lycan territory and wolves keep to their own pack territories. But territories don’t

matter to rogues.

I swallowed and shook my head. You’re hungry. Tired. That’s all. It doesn’t even smell rogue.

Yesterday we’d been too focused on the riddle to eat much, and after pitching camp, I’d gone straight to sleep. This morning, adrenaline had carried me forward without breakfast.

I dug into my pack for the jerky I’d been saving.

Nothing.

I searched again. Deeper. Faster,

Still nothing.

My fingers brushed paper.

I pulled it free.

A note. Folded. Crisp.

No provisions allowed for the second half of the mission.

The mission is survival.

So survive.

My jaw clenched. “Son of a bitch.”

When did they take it? Last night? This morning?

< Chapter 62 – Alone With the Wind

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to think.

Fine. Adjust.

If I wanted food, I’d need time–daylight–to hunt or fish. That meant stopping earlier than planned an pushing harder tomorrow.

Not ideal. But doable.

I packed up and moved on.

By midafternoon, I found the second flag wedged between two stones near a shallow slope. I grabbe tucking it into the side pocket of my pack with a bit more pride than I’d admit out loud. But the thrill fa fast, replaced by the gnawing twist of hunger. My stomach growled so loud it made a nearby bird flutt

from a branch.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, patting my belly. “Message received.”

I checked the sky, and felt my pulse quicken. Less than two hours of light left.

I pulled my map back out and studied the terrain. About half a mile north, the elevation lifted slightly in rise. It wasn’t much, but enough to keep dry if the weather turned again. Better yet, it was close to a cre I’d passed earlier. That meant water access–and maybe better game trails.

Decision made, I adjusted my pack and started north. It took me about thirty minutes to reach the base the hill, and by the time I reached the top, my legs were starting to protest. But the spot was solid- relatively flat, sheltered on one side by a crescent of trees, and dry enough to make a fire without issue.

“This’ll do,” I said to no one, already dropping my pack and rolling my shoulders.

I cleared the ground quickly and pitched my tent with practiced ease, then turned my attention to the fire It took some effort to find dry wood, but I managed enough to get a good burn going. The flames sparke to life with a few strikes from the issued flint stick, and within minutes I had a cozy little setup–tent staked, fire crackling, and a vague illusion of safety curling around me like smoke.

That’s when my stomach reminded me again that I’d eaten jack shit in nearly 36 hours.

Then I made a decision.

I glanced toward the trees.

“They said survive,” I murmured. “Didn’t say how.”

So I stripped off my clothes, folded them beside the tent-

And shifted.

The world sharpened instantly–scents layered and rich, the forest alive with trails and heartbeats. Hunger guided me true. I caught a fox within minutes, warm and fast, and ate in silence beneath the trees.

When I shifted back, wiped my hands, and pulled my clothes on, my body was calm. Fed. Grounded.

< Chapter 62 – Alone With the Wind

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to think.

Fine. Adjust.

Claim

If I wanted food, I’d need time–daylight–to hunt or fish. That meant stopping earlier than planned and

pushing harder tomorrow.

Not ideal. But doable.

I packed up and moved on.

By midafternoon, I found the second flag wedged between two stones near a shallow slope. I grabbed it, tucking it into the side pocket of my pack with a bit more pride than I’d admit out loud. But the thrill faded fast, replaced by the gnawing twist of hunger. My stomach growled so loud it made a nearby bird flutter

from a branch.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, patting my belly. “Message received.”

I checked the sky, and felt my pulse quicken. Less than two hours of light left.

I pulled my map back out and studied the terrain. About half a mile north, the elevation lifted slightly into a

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