Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 292: The Pups’ Revenge

Three days after Mira had harshly disciplined the wolf pups, they were back on their feet—spirited, healthy, and bounding with renewed energy, as if nothing had happened.

That Saturday morning, after a brisk training session, Lara led the young wolves into the woods behind the Norse manor. The early light filtered through the canopy, dappling the forest floor with flickering patches of gold and green. Birds chirped overhead, and the scent of damp earth and moss lingered in the cool air. Sandoz, still in high spirits from another sleepover and early morning training, tagged along with Lara and his sister Reya. His mother, Linnea, walked quietly beside them, always watchful.

Unbeknownst to the small party, the Duke had discreetly assigned a few knights to observe them from a distance, their presence hidden among the trees—shadows with swords, guardians in silence.

As they entered the heart of the woods, Reya looked around at the sparse vegetation and slender trees with a soft sigh.

"Lady Lara," she murmured, "seeing this... I miss Ourea. I didn’t think I would, but I do."

"Me too, Sis," Sandoz said wistfully. His eyes scanned the forest with quiet longing. "Do you think Father would ever let me stay in Calma?"

Lara gave a sympathetic glance. "Not yet, Sandoz. Maybe not for a while."

Sandoz’s face fell into a pout, but his attention was quickly drawn away by the pups, who were joyfully leaping over fallen branches, tumbling and yipping. He giggled as Little Grey and Snow skidded into each other, tail over snout.

As the children played, Linnea approached Lara, her voice low but earnest. "Lady Lara, I truly thank you—for your guidance, and for teaching me how to defend myself. The servants who used to sneer at me now keep their distance. They could not bully me anymore.

Lara smiled. "You’re a fast learner, Madam Linnea. You’ve even outpaced Reya."

Linnea flushed with a mix of pride and embarrassment.

"It’s Sandoz who’s fortunate," she said softly. "Fortunate to have met you."

Lara looked over at the boy, who was now chasing the pups, laughter echoing through the forest. Her gaze softened.

"I never meant to take him with me when we fled," she admitted. "But he sensed something that night—he pleaded to come. He’s braver than most grown men. Yes, you’re right. He’s lucky. And so are we."

By midday, the Arces mother and son did not stay for lunch but departed for home, bidding their farewells at the manor gates. Lara and Reya, meanwhile, ushered the pups to the garden on the manor’s left wing—a space Lara had enclosed with a wooden fence just high enough to keep them in. It was their haven: a safe spot to frolic and grow.

That afternoon, Mira was hosting a small tea party on the garden terrace beside a tranquil pond. She and Amelia had recently decided to start a dance club and convinced Lara to be their honorary member. Though this was meant to be their first official meeting, Lara was absent, visiting the metalsmith to check on the progress of the bicycle she had asked them to build.

Undeterred, Mira and Amelia welcomed their guests as they arrived one after the other with practiced grace. Servants bustled about, setting up tables draped in lace and platters of dainty pastries. Delicate teacups clinked and sunlight glimmered on the surface of the pond.

After a light tea, Mira and Amelia led the group through basic dance steps—just as Lara had once taught them. Laughter rang out as they practiced twirls and footwork, their skirts swishing and heels tapping the stone path. The six ladies present praised the two girls for their poise and elegance and for their generosity in sharing the knowledge with them.

When they grew tired, they turned to a more carefree pastime—playing catch with a soft ball. But the game took a sudden turn when Janna, with an overly enthusiastic swing, sent the ball soaring over the fence and into the wolf pups’ enclosure.

"Oops..." Janna grimaced.

As hostess, Mira was obligated to retrieve it. She glanced toward the enclosure. The pups appeared to be napping at the far end, nestled in the grass.

The fence wasn’t high. Mira didn’t bother with the gate—she simply stepped over.

She landed with a soft thump, carefully picked up the ball, and turned toward the fence again. But before she stepped out, a low growl stopped her.

Little Grey and Snow were awake.

Their amber eyes locked onto her, gleaming with wary intelligence. They blocked her path with tense bodies, ears flattened, lips curled to reveal tiny, pointed fangs. A rumble sounded from their throats.

Mira froze. She didn’t have her whip.

"Shoo... go away," she said, trying to sound firm, her eyes darting to her friends outside the fence. "Amelia, please call Reya. The pups listen to her."

She took a cautious step back, then suddenly spun and bolted for the fence. Just as her hands reached the top rail, she felt a sharp tug on her skirt—and heard it tear.

She gasped, looking down.

The pups had latched onto her skirt’s hem, growling and pulling. Her eyes widened in horror.

"Let go! Stop that!" she yelled, her voice rising in a frantic pitch as she flailed her legs, panic coursing through her. Little Grey’s jaws tightened around her hem, tugging with stubborn insistence. Just then, Snow sprang forward, a blur of fur and determination, colliding into her with a sudden force that sent her sprawling off balance.

With a loud yelp, Mira landed flat in the freshly tilled garden soil.

The pups didn’t stop. Growling playfully, they tore the hem off her skirt and trotted off triumphantly. They flopped down in a sunny corner of the enclosure, curling up together—right on top of the stolen fabric.

Mira sat up, disheveled and furious, her undergarments muddied and exposed.

"Stupid mutts! Give me back my skirt!" she shrieked. freewebnøvel.com

At that moment, Reya arrived—just in time to see the scene.

"Lady Mira... what are you doing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Around the fence, Mira’s friends tried desperately to contain their laughter, hands clapped over mouths, faces red with suppressed mirth.

Mortified, Mira screamed again.

"Lady Mira," the servant called, eyes widening in horror at the sight before her. "You have... guests."

Mira scrambled to her feet, wobbling slightly, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of dignity. "What guests?" she hissed, brushing dirt from her thighs, though it only smeared the soil further.

When she looked up, she almost fainted when she saw her guests.