"What's your name?" he asked, voice softer.
"Marro," the boy said with a small smile.
"Marro…" Xaden rasped, memorizing it. "You're braver than most grown wolves I know."
Marro beamed.
Xaden swallowed the last of the water and reached down to his wrist. With effort, he tugged free the thick leather band he wore, marked with his family crest and rank.
It was weathered, stained, but unmistakable.
He pressed it into Marro's hand.
"There's a pack not far from here, by the Brown River. Find the outer province. Show this to the guards. They'll know who I am and send help."
Marro clutched the band tightly.
"I'll go right away," he said.
"No shortcuts," Xaden warned. "Avoid the main trail. Don't let anyone see that."
Marro nodded, face serious now. "I'll be careful. I promise."
And just like that, he turned and disappeared into the forest, running with purpose.
