Frozen Flame of Dawn - Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Chapter 18: Training for the Hunt_1

The convoy moved at a steady pace, the rumbling hum of the jeeps’ engines the only constant sound in the air. Trees so tall and thick that only slivers of the blood-red sunlight could penetrate through the it that flanked both sides of the road. Shadows danced on the cracked pavement like restless ghosts.

While sitting in the front passenger seat, Amira kept her eyes on the road but her mind seemed to be elsewhere. Her fingers drummed a slow, steady rhythm on the armrest.

With her eyebrows wrinkled, her thoughts were racing around in her head like wild animals in a cage. Her mind kept replaying the earlier skirmish.

The image of that giant horned elk still flashed in her mind—the way it ripped through steel, tossed a grown man like a ragdoll, and charged like a force of nature.

The way they moved. It wasn’t just an attack. It was something more calculated, deliberate. They weren’t after food or territory. They were testing the convoy, gauging its defenses.

“This wasn’t random,” Amira said to herself as she looked at the treeline. It had been long enough for her to know the signs of danger.

First, the enemy sends the pawns and then comes the real threat. As her eyes lingered on the shadows between the trees. She was aware that something dangerous was waiting and watching out there.

Leaning back in her seat, her eyes flicking to the side mirror. The convoy trailed behind them—armored jeeps kicking up a long trail of dust. The sound of the engines hummed in unison, each jeep carrying six to eight of her people. Just the thought of that carried weight.

She sighed deeply, rubbing her eyes before reaching for the radio console in front of her. Her fingers twisted the dial with precision, tuning into the channel connected to the third jeep in the convoy. Listening for the static to subside, she fixed her gaze on the dashboard.

“Rhea, you there?” It took a little while to hear her words, but it was clear enough.

A moment of static, then Rhea’s familiar voice filtered through, clear and steady. “Yeah, Captain. I’m here. Everything alright?”

“Status on the injured?” Amira asked, her gaze still locked on the road. Her voice held a note of concern, though she hid it well.

“They’re better than alright, actually,” Rhea replied, a hint of satisfaction in her tone. “The wounds are patched up. And I don’t mean ‘bandaged’—I mean it’s like they were never there. No scars, no soreness, nothing. They’re resting now, but they’ll be combat-ready in a few hours.”

That made Amira pause. Her fingers hovered over the console, her mind processing Rhea’s words.

“Come again?” she said, tilting her head like she hadn’t heard it right. “Wounds gone? No scars?”

“Yep, clean as a whistle,” Rhea replied, and Amira could hear the faint grin in her voice. “They’re sleeping it off now, but they’ll be on their feet by the time we reach the village.”

Amira leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes narrowing. “Alright, Rhea. I know you’re good, but you’re not that good. So how?” Her eyes flicked to the treeline, her voice taking on that sharp, focused tone she used when she smelled something off. “What did you do?”

There was a pause on the line. Then Rhea’s voice returned, slower this time, more measured.

“It wasn’t me, Cap,” she said carefully. “It was Mira… and a few others.”

Amira’s eyes narrowed. She tilted her head slightly, one brow raised. “Mira? Since when did she get a medical license?”

“Since her affinity awakened, apparently,” Rhea replied with a dry chuckle. “She’s got healing properties in her affinity, and it’s… strong. Like, stupidly strong. I watched her work on Jared’s rib. At first, I thought she was just wasting energy, but then—bam—bone sealed up like it never broke. She didn’t even touch him, Cap. Just hovered her hands over it, focused, and let her energy do the work.”

Amira leaned back, rubbing her fingers over her temple. “So, you’re telling me we have literal healers now? Not medics. Healers.” Her tone had that sarcastic edge, as if she were trying to convince herself it was real.

Rhea spoke, her tone becoming increasingly serious. “Exactly, But there’s a catch.”

Amira muttered, already steeling herself. “Obviously. Go ahead, hit me.”

“Energy consumption, Cap,” Rhea said, and there was a faint sound of shuffling papers on the other end. “Mira’s practically drained. So are the others. It’s not just ‘lay hands and pray’—it’s draining them hard.”

Amira’s lips pressed into a firm line. “How bad?”

“It took four of them to heal Jared and Quinn—four—because they’re still inefficient at it, burning through nearly all their energy in the process,” Rhea said sharply, her usual humor gone.

“Mira told me before she went to meditate that she felt like she’d run ten marathons—completely drained and shaky. If we face another fight before they recover, they won’t be able to do it again. They’re running on pure instinct right now, and until they learn control, it’s sloppy, exhausting, and costly.”

Amira nodded slowly, more to herself than to Rhea. Four people to heal one injury. That was a heavy cost. Not sustainable. Not yet. But it was something. It was new. And new was dangerous.

“Alright, I hear you,” Amira said, her voice more measured now. “But I want you to track their energy levels from now on. I don’t care if you have to nag them like an old grandma. I want to know how much they’re spending and how much they have left. If one of them drops from over-exertion, I want to know before it happens. Understood?”

“Understood, Captain.” Rhea’s voice was firm, no argument, no hesitation.

“Good. Keep me posted. Out.” Amira clicked the radio off and sat back, exhaling slowly. Her eyes shifted to the distant line of trees flanking the road. Shadows flickered between the trunks—something moved. Just a blur. Not close. Not far.

Her eyes narrowed as she twisted the channel dial, locking it onto the common frequency. She glanced at Ralph, her driver, who gave her a quick glance but didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He knew the look. It was that look—the one she wore right before she dropped an order no one was going to like.

Amira pressed the transmit button.

“All units, this is Amira. Common channel. Everyone listen up.” Her voice came through sharp, firm, and commanding. Static buzzed for a second before silence settled over the frequency. All ears were on her.

“I’m changing our tactics.” Her tone was calm, but there was a weight behind it that made people pay attention. The kind of tone that leaves no room for argument. “What happened earlier with the giant horned elk? Yeah, that’s not happening again.”

She sat forward, her gaze distant but sharp as her mind focused on the unseen enemies hidden in the woods. “From now on, I don’t want to see anyone firing like they’re in some action movie. No more spraying bullets like you’re trying to paint the forest red. If you’re taking a shot, you better be damn sure it’s hitting the mark.”

There was a short pause on the line as her words sunk in.

“Here’s how it’s gonna work. If we engage,” she continued, her tone growing colder, “only those of you with a confirmed shot will take the rear. I’m talking precision shooters only. None of that ‘maybe I’ll hit it’ nonsense. If you’re in that spot, you’re using the new equipment and our specialized rounds. I don’t need to tell you how valuable those rounds are, so make them count. If you waste them, I’ll have you polishing every piece of gear we have for a week.”

A faint crackle of static was followed by Voss’s voice, cocky as usual but knowing when to rein it in, “All right, Captain. No spray and pray.” Amira’s sarcastic reply came quick, “Glad you’re paying attention, Voss. But seriously, pray you don’t see me if you waste a round.”

There was a chorus of soft laughter over the comms. But no one doubted she meant every word.

“The rest of you, listen close, ’cause this is the part that matters.” Amira leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee, her eyes focused on nothing and everything. “We’re splitting into smaller teams. You’ll stay in formation, move as a unit, and when we engage, you’ll do it together. This isn’t just about surviving. This is about learning how to use what we’ve got.”

Her gaze flicked back to the treeline, her eyes narrowing as she spoke. “We’ve all got powers now—new abilities, new strengths—but don’t let that get to your head. We’re not masters of it yet. We’re amateurs with shiny new toys. If you charge in solo thinking you’re invincible, you’re gonna get killed.”

“I’m not here to bury anyone today,” she said, her voice sharp and cold as steel. “No heroes, no lone wolves — we move as one, or we don’t move at all.”

There was a heavy pause on the communications—no snark or laughter—until, one by one, voices acknowledged: “Understood, Captain.” “Got it, Cap.” “Copy that.”

Satisfied, Amira nodded to herself, pressing the comm button again. “Good. From here on out, every fight is training. Practice your formations. Practice your coordination. Learn how to use your powers in sync with each other. Every fight is a chance to get better. Every battle is a classroom.”

Her voice grew quieter, but somehow, it felt heavier. “We get one shot at getting this right. You train now, or you bleed later.”

Another round of acknowledgments came through. No complaints. No protests. They understood.

“That’s it. Stay sharp. Out.” Amira flicked off the radio and leaned back in her seat. Her hand rested on the console for a moment before she exhaled, eyes half-closed, mind still running at full speed.