The Last Moon of Eldervale

Chapter 6 : The boy who wouldn’t break

Rowan’s POV

The forest swallowed sound the deeper we rode.

Pine shadows stretched long across the trail as the morning light thinned into something cold and silver. My horse’s hooves thudded softly on the packed soil, the rhythm familiar, steady yet my mind was anything but.

Behind me, Alden walked.

Walked.

Bruised, limping, stubborn as a damn mule… and still trailing us with his jaw clenched and his shoulders squared like he thought sheer will could hold him together.

Hoseman’s cut still marked his arm. A small wound, shallow and already drying, but it had changed something among the Knights. They weren’t saying it out loud not yet but they were watching the boy differently now.

Not with respect.

Not with trust.

But with a wary curiosity.

Like they were trying to decide whether he was a future soldier…

…or a future corpse.

I kept my eyes forward.

The trail dipped between two ridges, the air growing colder, sharper. Clouds thickened overhead. Even the trees seemed to lean away from the direction we were heading.

Fallon rode beside me, restless as always. He was a man built for war broad, loud, impatient. He tapped a gauntleted finger against his thigh.

“You’re really letting the boy come?” he muttered.

“I said he could follow,” I replied. “Following is not the same as belonging.”

Fallon snorted. “He won’t last a day,and if he dies his blood is on you not me.”

“He lasted the morning,” Hoseman said from behind us.

Fallon twisted in his saddle to glare at him. “You barely touched him.”

Hoseman raised an eyebrow. “Shall I use a real blade next time?”

“Try it,” Fallon grumbled. “Maybe we’ll get home faster without dead weight.”

Dutch chuckled under his breath. Thomas sighed like a man too old for their bickering even though he was younger than both.

Me?

I said nothing.

Fallon wasn’t wrong but he wasn’t right either.

The boy shouldn’t have survived what he had seen. The burning. The screams. His father torn apart at the village gate. His mother buried in the ashes of their home. His girl slaughtered before his eyes.

Trauma breaks grown men.

Yet Alden still walked.

And more importantly…

…he still looked forward.

I didn’t know whether that made him brave or foolish.

Our horses slowed as we approached a narrow bend in the trail. A rocky cliff rose to our left; to the right, the ground fell sharply into a ravine cloaked in thornbrush.

Hoseman moved up beside me.

“You felt it too,” he murmured quietly enough so the others wouldn’t hear. “Last night. The air.”

I nodded once. “Something’s wrong.”

Fallon made a dismissive noise. “Everything’s been wrong since the Red Moon.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hoseman replied.

Thomas leaned in. “A heaviness. Like the world’s holding its breath.”

Dutch scratched his chin. “Or like something’s listening.”

“Quiet,” I said.

And they obeyed.

The forest went still again.

But not empty.

I could feel it an awareness threading through the trees, through the earth, through the very wind. Not a presence, not a creature, but a tension.

Like a string pulled taut.

Like the world waiting to snap.

Alden didn’t seem to sense any of it as he trudged behind the horses, his eyes fixed on the ground, his breath coming sharp and steady. He didn’t complain. Didn’t ask to stop. Didn’t ask for water.

His determination was almost unnatural.

After a few more minutes, Thomas nudged his horse closer to mine.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked. “About the boy?”

I kept my gaze ahead. “There is no plan.”

Fallon groaned dramatically. “Please tell me we’re not actually considering keeping him.”

“We’re not keeping him,” I said. “He follows for now. Nothing more.”

“He’s a liability,” Fallon insisted. “You know it.”

“He’s also useful,” Hoseman countered. “He knows these woods better than any of us.”

Fallon scoffed. “He’s a child.”

“He’s a survivor,” Dutch said quietly. “Lost more in one night than most men do in a lifetime.”

Fallon threw up his hands. “Why is everyone suddenly defending him?”

“Because Rowan let him stay,” Thomas replied simply.

That shut Fallon up, at least for the moment.

But their arguments churned in my mind.

The Order of the Crescent didn’t accept recruits lightly. We didn’t coddle. We didn’t bend. Our mission was simple: eliminate the beasts spreading across the realm, whatever form they took.

The creatures had grown bolder lately. Different. Smarter.

More monstrous.

But still…

What role could a village boy play in the wars to come?

I didn’t know.

And that frustrated me.

We rode until the trail widened enough for the horses to spread out. Alden slowed, hands on his knees for a moment, catching his breath. I watched him carefully not with sympathy, but calculation.

He was running on fumes.

But he wasn’t stopping.

Fallon noticed too. “Look at him,” he muttered. “Barely standing.”

“He’s still standing,” Hoseman corrected.

Fallon glared. “What are you, his nursemaid?”

“Enough,” I snapped. “Save your breath. We move until sundown.”

Fallon grumbled but obeyed.

As the hours passed, the forest changed. The pines thinned. The trail dipped into an area thick with dense fog. A pale mist curled around the roots of ancient trees, clinging to the ground like smoke.

My horse snorted uneasily.

“Something’s off,” Thomas murmured.

“Keep riding,” I said. “Eyes open.”

Alden stumbled once, catching himself against a tree. I slowed my horse slightly, not enough to seem intentional, but enough to keep him within reach.

Fallon noticed and hissed under his breath. “You’re encouraging him.”

“I’m preventing him from wandering off and dying,” I replied.

“Same thing,” he muttered.

The fog thickened.

Dutch’s horse stamped nervously. “We should make camp soon.”

“No,” I said. “Not here.”

“Why?” Fallon asked.

I looked at the fog.

“Because things hide in mist.”

That silenced them.

We pressed forward until the ground rose onto firmer, drier soil. A ridge cleared the fog enough to see the treeline. The Knights dismounted. I signaled for a temporary rest, more for the boy than for my men.

Alden collapsed onto a fallen log, chest heaving.

Fallon smirked. “Pathetic.”

“Fallon,” I warned.

“What?” he complained. “We’re supposed to trust him? He’ll die before night”

“Then he dies,” I said, my voice like steel. “But until then, he walks.”

Fallon went silent.

The Knights tended their horses. Hoseman checked his bandage. Thomas gathered kindling. Dutch sharpened his axe with slow, deliberate strokes.

I stood slightly apart, watching the forest.

Listening.

Thinking.

Alden raised his head after several minutes. Sweat clung to his hairline; his ribs were still bruised from the fight. But when he looked up at me, there was no resentment.

Only resolve.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“For what?” I asked.

“For letting me stay.”

I met his gaze without flinching. “I didn’t let you stay. I let you follow. There’s a difference.”

He nodded. “I’ll prove myself.”

“You already did,” I said. “Back there with Hoseman.”

He flinched, embarrassed. “I still lost.”

“Everyone loses,” I replied. “What matters is how long you stay standing.”

He didn’t smile.

He didn’t need to.

Determination radiated off him like heat.

I wasn’t sure if it impressed me…

…or concerned me.

Fallon approached, brows furrowed. “Rowan. We need to talk.”

I stepped aside with him, arms crossed. “What is it?”

He jerked his head toward Alden. “You can’t be serious about letting him shadow us all the way to Redcrest.”

“I am.”

Fallon groaned. “Rowan, he’s a liability. And if the beasts attack”

“We protect him,” I said sharply.

Fallon stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “Why? Why him? We don’t take strays.”

My jaw tightened. “He’s not a stray.”

“So what is he?” Fallon demanded.

I looked back at Alden.

The boy was pressing a damp cloth to his ribs, wincing but refusing to lie down. His father’s hunting knife the only thing he’d saved from his home was balanced across his knees.

“He’s a survivor,” I said quietly. “And survivors become warriors.”

Fallon scoffed. “Not always.”

“No,” I agreed. “But often enough to matter.”

Hoseman wandered over then, folding his arms with a thoughtful expression.

“You feel it too,” he said to Fallon. “He’s not… ordinary.”

Fallon blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Hoseman shrugged. “Just a sense.”

Thomas joined us, lowering his voice. “There’s a fire in him. Grief does that. Sometimes it shatters a man. Sometimes it… forges one.”

Fallon rolled his eyes. “Gods save me from all of you.”

Dutch approached last, leaning on his axe. “He reminds me of Rowan at that age.”

Fallon’s eyes widened. “Ah. So that’s it.”

“Quiet,” I snapped.

But the damage was done.

Fallon’s smirk said he’d already made his conclusion.

I didn’t confirm it.

I didn’t deny it.

I simply turned back toward Alden.

Whether he reminded me of myself or not… the truth was undeniable.

I had seen that look before.

In those who lost everything.

Those who had nothing left to fear.

Nothing left to lose.

Those who became warriors not by choice

but by the world’s cruelty.

Alden looked up as I approached.

“We move soon,” I said.

“I’m ready,” he answered.

“You’re exhausted.”

He nodded. “I’m still ready.”

Something inside me shifted.

Not pity.

Not softness.

Recognition.

“Very well,” I said. “On your feet.”

He stood. Unsteady, but upright.

Fallon groaned. Hoseman smothered a laugh. Thomas smiled faintly. Dutch clapped the boy once on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over.

The Knights gathered their things, mounting their horses one by one.

When I swung into my saddle and looked back…

Alden was already walking.

Head high.

Blade strapped at his side.

Grief in his eyes.

Fire in his steps.

The boy who wouldn’t break.

The boy who refused to turn back.

I tightened my grip on the reins.

“Let’s move,” I commanded.