Roderic had never hated retreat as much as he did that day.
His warriors moved through the forest, carrying their wounded while the rest kept looking over their shoulders. No one spoke about the battle. They had all seen what the child could do, and none wanted to be the first to admit they had been afraid. If they hadn't witnessed it, they would have never believed the boy was less than ten years old.
Roderic rode at the front, his jaw clenched.
A child had forced Redfang to withdraw.
A child.
He tightened his grip on the reins until his knuckles hurt. He had spent years searching for the boy, losing scouts and wasting resources chasing rumors from one territory to another. Now that he had finally found him, he had been forced to leave without him.
The thought made his blood boil.
