Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 365: Crossing the River

Jethru’s voice echoed from just beyond the mouth of the cave, edged with disappointment. "The river’s swollen. It is deep and wide. No way we’re crossing by wading."

Logan shoved past the final bend and stepped into the open. The others followed, blinking as sunlight cut through the trees. Cool air rushed to meet them—crisp, sharp, and clean, like a mother’s touch after a long fever.

The river stretched before them, broad, fast, and unforgiving. Its banks overflowed, the usual muddy edges now erased by the swollen current. The roar of the water filled the ravine like distant thunder. Hopes for a shallow crossing died the moment they saw it.

It must have rained heavily in the mountains of Ourea.

Chunks of wood, foam, and shattered remnants of an old rope bridge churned in the current. A thick tree limb bobbed near the far side, tangled with frayed rope—what remained of their crossing.

Logan cursed under his breath. "Someone cut the rope bridge."

Alaric narrowed his eyes, jaw set. "They knew we’d try this path?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Logan crouched, scanning the waterline. "Look there." He pointed toward the splintered branch tangled with rope. "See that? That tree must’ve come down in a flash flood and tore the bridge apart. The mountains must’ve been hit hard last night."

A collective breath of relief rippled through the group. It was not sabotage but the force of nature.

But it didn’t change the fact: they were stuck.

Redon glanced over his shoulder. The jungle was too quiet. Too still. "We can’t backtrack. They’ll trap us in Gaden’s Ravine."

Lara spun toward Logan. "Where’s the shallow ford you mentioned?"

"There." He pointed downstream. "Under that rock ledge. It’s deeper than usual, but barely passable."

"Wait." Jethru raised a hand, stepping forward and cocking his ear. "Listen to the current. That water’s turbulent and cold. We’ve got children and the wounded. We try to cross there, we’ll lose someone."

Orion looked ready to argue, but this time, he didn’t. His jaw worked for a moment, then he nodded. "He’s right. We try to walk that... some won’t make it."

"Then we build a raft," Lara said calmly, her voice cutting through the murmur of doubt like a blade. "It’s our safest chance."

Everyone stared at her. Not in disbelief—just regret that they hadn’t thought of it first.

"Then we move." Alaric turned to the group, his voice sharp, commanding. "Hurry and cut those bamboos."

Even the injured prisoners helped. Blades flashed. Within minutes, bamboo poles were felled and hauled toward the riverbank, where they were lashed tightly together with thick jungle vines. In less than an hour, two makeshift rafts took shape—rough but sturdy.

For safety, Lara unwound the rope she always kept coiled at her waist. She tied one end to the front of the lead raft, then attached the other to an arrow.

She turned to Jethru. "Master, will you do the honors? Your throw reaches farther."

Before Jethru could answer, Alaric stepped forward and took the arrow from her hand.

"Let me do it. I am younger, stronger and my arms are longer." He said indifferently.

"Brat, are you looking down at me?" Jethru snapped.

Orion chuckled. Jethru glared at him.

Alaric didn’t wait. He spun the arrow in his fingers, took aim, and released. The arrow arced cleanly across the river, trailing rope like a silver thread. Instead of embedding into the trunk, it curled around a thick branch and cinched tight.

"Impressive," Lara said with a smile. The corners of Alaric’s ears turned red.

"Hmph. What’s so impressive about that?" Jethru grumbled. "You could’ve done that with eyes closed."

Redon, Aramis, and Agilus began to move. The others joined, tying the rafts together with reinforced cords for added stability.

"Load the children first," Alaric commanded. "Then the mothers. Pair the wounded with the strongest among you. No dead weight."

Quickly, they organized. Small hands were passed gently onto the raft. Mothers followed, holding their little ones tightly. The rafts were nudged into the shallows.

Alaric and Lara took charge of the first raft, using long bamboo poles to steer. Redon and Aramis dove into the cold current beside them, half-wading, half-swimming, their bodies forming a buffer against the river’s fury.

The second raft followed close behind, Jethru and Orion guiding it, with Amnon and Agilus flanking either side. Percival brought up the rear, pushing from behind, muscles straining.

Finally, with a final heave and a gasp of triumph, the rafts bumped into the opposite bank. Logan was there, hauling people ashore, one by one.

Alaric jumped off last, soaked to the bone. He walked to the rope and cut it with a clean slash.

..

The forest on the other side of the river felt different—quieter, and gentler. The trees were younger, their trunks unknotted. It was obvious that people frequented that side of Hainai.

No one spoke as they moved.

The path was narrow, half-swallowed by undergrowth, forcing them to walk in a long single file. Logan led at the front. He walked with confidence as if he had walked the trail many times before.

Alaric walked near the rear, scanning for movement, eyes never resting. Lara kept close to the center, helping with the children, her bow still slung but ready.

They didn’t stop to rest.

After two hours of hiking, sweat clung to skin, and breathing grew heavy. Even the children were quiet, not from fear this time, but from sheer exhaustion. Atalia’s baby whimpered weakly. Zeeta carried her youngest son on her back, face tight with pain but never breaking pace.

"The slope levels out just beyond that ridge," Logan called softly over his shoulder. "After that, the terrain opens into grassland. From there, we’ll see the entrance of our village."

They crested the ridge, and for the first time in days, the canopy thinned. A breeze met them—cool, dry, and clean. Grass swayed on the open slope beyond the trees, golden in the late-day sun. And there, on the horizon, faint but unmistakable: the thatched rooftops of the villagers.

Everyone cried in relief.

Relief was a dangerous emotion, and Alaric didn’t allow it to settle. "Don’t celebrate yet. We’re still exposed. This grassland has no cover. We should move fast."

Lara tightened the straps on her pack. "I’ll scout ahead."

"No," Alaric said firmly. "You stay with the children. Aramis and Redon can go."

But Logan was already moving, low and fast, across the field. He paused halfway and signaled. All clear.

They moved quickly, the tall grass brushing their knees, seeds clinging to their clothes. The sun had begun to dip behind the hills. The sky turned a deep amber, then a blood-orange.

"Isn’t the entrance of the village that way?" Lara pointed in the opposite direction.

Logan lowered his head, his face red with embarrassment.

"We live on the outskirts of the village." He said softly. "When the rebels recruited new members, I refused to join, citing what happened two years ago. And they kicked us out of the village."

"Rebels? This is a rebel base?"

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