Chapter 5: The Plan of Attack
The morning air was cool and brimming with energy as Simharaj stood atop a rocky outcrop overlooking the heart of the forest. Below, his coalition gathered, a mix of wolves, leopards, wild dogs, monkeys, deer, and others, their distinct forms blending into a tapestry of life. For the first time in his young life, Simharaj felt the sheer magnitude of what they had built together.
The forest had been fragmented for so long that even standing together felt like a victory. But Simharaj knew it wasn’t enough.
Behind him, Naka and Vara stood side by side. The mongoose’s sharp eyes darted over the gathering clans, while the boar’s steady presence felt like an anchor.
“This is a lot of mouths to feed,” Naka muttered. “Hope you’ve got a plan, cub, because once this starts, there’s no going back.”
Simharaj nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “There’s a plan. But it’s not just about me—it’s about all of us. If we’re going to retake Simhasthala, everyone has to believe in it.”
“You think they’re ready?” Vara asked, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.
“They have to be,” Simharaj replied.
Simharaj gathered the leaders of the clans in a shaded grove beneath a massive banyan tree. Varun and Chitra stood closest to him, their respective clans represented by younger scouts and hunters. Tara the doe, Daksha the wild dog, and representatives from the smaller clans completed the circle.
“We’ve made it this far by working together,” Simharaj began, his voice calm but commanding. “But the hardest part lies ahead. Vyaghra has fortified Simhasthala. He’s turned our home into a stronghold, and he won’t give it up without a fight.”
Varun growled low, his ears flattening. “We can fight. The wolves are ready.”
Chitra flicked his tail, his expression cool. “Strength alone won’t win this battle. The tiger king’s forces are larger, better equipped. We’ll need strategy if we’re to have any hope of success.”
Simharaj nodded. “Chitra’s right. That’s why we’re not going to attack Simhasthala directly—not at first.”
Tara tilted her head, her soft voice cutting through the murmurs. “Then what is your plan, Simharaj?”
“We start by cutting off his strength,” Simharaj explained. “Vyaghra relies on his patrols to control the forest and keep the clans in line. If we disrupt his supply lines, force him to overextend, we can weaken him without risking our coalition.”
Daksha barked a short laugh, his scarred face lighting with approval. “Smart. Starve the beast before you fight it.”
Simharaj smiled faintly. “Exactly. But it won’t be easy. His patrols are well-organized, and they’ll fight to protect his hold on the forest. We’ll need to be precise—and we’ll need to work together.”
Over the next few days, the coalition set their plan into motion. Chitra’s leopards scouted the routes used by Vyaghra’s patrols, identifying key points where they could strike. The wolves, led by Varun, coordinated ambushes, using their speed and strength to overwhelm smaller groups of tigers and jackals.
Simharaj personally led a mixed group of wolves, wild dogs, and monkeys to sabotage a supply cache hidden deep in the jungle. The operation was a success, the supplies destroyed before Vyaghra’s forces could retrieve them.
But even as their victories mounted, the weight of leadership bore heavily on Simharaj. He often found himself awake at night, staring at the stars as doubts crept into his mind.
One evening, as the camp settled into a restless quiet, Naka joined him by the edge of the clearing.
“You’re thinking too much again,” the mongoose said, his tone light but knowing.
Simharaj glanced at him, his amber eyes weary. “I can’t help it, Naka. Every decision I make affects all of them. If I make the wrong choice…”
“You’ll fix it,” Naka interrupted, his sharp eyes meeting Simharaj’s. “That’s what you do, cub. You’re not perfect, but you don’t have to be. They follow you because you’re trying, and that’s more than anyone else has done in a long time.”
Simharaj smiled faintly. “You make it sound simple.”
“It’s not,” Naka admitted. “But that’s why you’ve got us. You don’t have to carry it alone.”
By the end of the week, the coalition had gained significant ground. Vyaghra’s patrols were scattered, his supply lines disrupted, and his forces forced to retreat deeper into the forest.
But the tiger king wasn’t one to take defeat lightly.
One evening, as the coalition regrouped near the edge of the cliffs overlooking Simhasthala, a scout arrived with urgent news.
“Vyaghra’s forces are mobilizing,” the scout panted, his fur matted with sweat. “They’ve fortified the cliffs surrounding Simhasthala and doubled their patrols. They know we’re coming.”
Simharaj’s heart sank. He had hoped to weaken Vyaghra further before facing him directly, but it seemed the tiger king was prepared to meet them head-on.
Varun growled, his claws flexing. “Let him prepare. We’re ready for him.”
Chitra nodded, his tail lashing. “We’ve weakened him, but this will be the true test.”
Simharaj took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the horizon where Simhasthala lay hidden in the distance. “Then we march. We’ve come too far to turn back now.”
As dawn broke over the forest, the coalition gathered at the base of the cliffs, their numbers a sea of fur and claws. Simharaj stood at the forefront, his golden coat gleaming in the morning light.
“This is our moment,” he said, his voice carrying across the assembled clans. “We fight not for ourselves, but for the forest—for every clan, every creature that calls it home. Together, we will take back what Vyaghra has stolen. Together, we will rise.”
The wolves howled, the leopards roared, and the wild dogs barked their agreement.
As the forest echoed with their battle cries, Simharaj felt a surge of resolve. The march to Simhasthala had begun, and there was no turning back.
Simhasthala had become a fortress. The once-pristine forest heartland, where clans had once gathered in peace under Simhendra’s rule, was now cloaked in shadow. Jagged barricades of felled trees lined the outskirts, their splintered edges a grim warning. Patrols of tigers and jackals prowled the perimeter, their sharp eyes and sharper claws ready for any sign of the coalition’s approach.
At the center of it all sat Man Vyaghra, the self-proclaimed king of the forest. The tiger’s hulking frame was stretched across a flat rock that served as his throne, his dark-striped coat gleaming even in the dim light. His amber eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the gathered figures before him.
Around him stood his inner circle: Jataka, the cunning jackal who had narrowly escaped death at Simharaj’s camp; Ruhal, a massive panther known for his brutal efficiency; and Rithva, a sly crow whose piercing caws often carried Vyaghra’s orders to the far corners of the forest.
Vyaghra’s tail flicked lazily, though the tension in his coiled muscles betrayed his frustration.
“Simharaj,” he growled, the name rolling off his tongue like a curse. “The cub thinks he can challenge me. A lion with no pride, no throne, and yet he dares to unite the clans.”
Jataka stepped forward, his wiry frame bent in a mock bow. “He’s young and foolish, my king. He doesn’t understand the strength of your rule.”
Vyaghra’s claws scraped against the rock, sending a sharp screech through the air. “He understands enough to be a threat. He’s turned the wolves and leopards against me, and now he’s rallying the smaller clans. That cannot stand.”
Ruhal’s deep voice cut through the murmurs. “Then let us crush them, my king. Their coalition is a patchwork of prey and predators. They’re no match for us in open battle.”
Vyaghra’s eyes narrowed. “No. Simharaj may be young, but he’s not foolish. He won’t face us head-on unless he has no choice. He’ll strike where we’re weakest, chip away at our strength until we have nothing left.”
The tiger’s gaze shifted to Jataka, his lips curling into a sneer. “Your failure to eliminate him has made this mess worse.”
The jackal flinched, his ears flattening. “My king, I underestimated him. But I won’t make that mistake again.”
“You’d better not,” Vyaghra said, his voice cold. “Because if you do, it’ll be the last mistake you make.”
The room fell silent as Vyaghra rose to his feet, his massive form towering over the others. He began pacing, his mind racing through possible strategies.
“We’ll strengthen the defenses around Simhasthala,” he said finally, his tone sharp and decisive. “Fortify the cliffs, double the patrols, and set traps along the paths leading here. If Simharaj wants to take this place, he’ll bleed for every step.”
Ruhal grinned, his sharp teeth flashing. “And when he reaches the gates?”
Vyaghra’s claws flexed, carving grooves into the ground. “We’ll be waiting. Let the cub think he’s won until the moment we strike. He’ll fall before me, just like his father.”
Rithva, the crow, let out a sharp caw, her wings fluttering. “And the smaller clans?”
Vyaghra’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Send word to the ones who haven’t joined him yet. Offer them safety if they side with us—or threaten to destroy them if they refuse. Fear is a powerful motivator.”
Jataka nodded eagerly. “I’ll send my best to spread the word, my king. The weaker clans will bow before you, as they always have.”
“Good,” Vyaghra said, his tail lashing. “Let them see what happens to those who defy me. Burn their nests, destroy their dens. Remind them that the forest belongs to tigers.”
As the meeting ended, Vyaghra remained on his throne, his sharp gaze fixed on the horizon.
“Simharaj,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “You think you can take what is mine? Let’s see how far your courage takes you.”
Meanwhile, deep within the forest, Simharaj’s coalition continued their march. Unaware of the traps awaiting them at Simhasthala, the young lion’s resolve burned brighter than ever.
But the tiger king was ready, and the battle for the forest’s heart was drawing closer with every step.
The dense forest shrouded Simharaj’s coalition as they marched through the undergrowth, their movements careful and deliberate. Though the trees provided cover, the air was thick with tension. Every snapping twig and rustling leaf felt like a warning, a reminder of the dangers that lay ahead.
Simharaj walked at the head of the group, his sharp amber eyes scanning the terrain. Behind him, Naka and Vara flanked either side, their familiar banter subdued by the weight of the journey.
“Vyaghra won’t make this easy,” Simharaj said, breaking the silence. “He knows we’re coming, and he’ll use the forest against us. If we walk into his traps, we’ll lose everything we’ve built.”
Varun, the wolf leader, growled low as he moved up to join Simharaj. “We’ve already spotted signs of his patrols—fresh tracks, claw marks on the trees. They’re watching us.”
“And waiting,” Chitra added, leaping down from a low branch. The leopard chief’s sleek form blended effortlessly with the shadows. “The tiger king won’t face us until he thinks he has the advantage. We need to strike first.”
Simharaj nodded. “Then we don’t give him the chance to surround us. We split into smaller groups, target his patrols, and disrupt his defenses. Hit and retreat—keep them off balance.”
Daksha, the scarred wild dog, barked in approval. “Now you’re talking, cub. Fight smart, not fair.”
The coalition divided into units, each led by one of the clan leaders. Varun’s wolves took the eastern approach, scouting for weak points in Vyaghra’s patrol lines. Chitra’s leopards scaled the cliffs, their agility allowing them to observe the tiger king’s defenses from above. Simharaj led a mixed group of wolves, leopards, and wild dogs along the central path, their goal to sow chaos among Vyaghra’s supply lines.
The First Strike
The sun was beginning to set when Simharaj’s group spotted their first target—a small patrol of jackals and tigers stationed near a clearing. They were guarding a cache of supplies, their forms silhouetted against the golden light.
Simharaj crouched low, his muscles coiling as he observed the scene. “Three jackals, two tigers,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “We need to move fast—hit them before they can call for help.”
Naka grinned, his sharp teeth flashing. “Fast is my specialty.”
“Just don’t get caught,” Vara muttered, his broad shoulders shifting.
Simharaj signaled for the group to spread out, his heart pounding as they moved into position.
Naka struck first, darting into the clearing with blinding speed. The jackals yelped in surprise as the mongoose nipped at their legs, leading them away from the supply cache.
Before the tigers could react, Simharaj and Vara charged from opposite sides. The young lion tackled one tiger to the ground, his claws raking across its flank, while Vara rammed the other with his tusks, sending it sprawling.
The fight was swift and brutal. Within moments, the patrol was scattered, their supplies abandoned.
Simharaj stood over the fallen cache, his chest heaving. “Burn it,” he commanded. “Let Vyaghra know we’re not afraid.”
The wild dogs barked in agreement, their teeth flashing as they set to work.
A Message Sent
Over the next few days, the coalition launched a series of coordinated attacks. Wolves ambushed patrols in the dense underbrush, their speed and teamwork overwhelming even the larger tigers. Leopards disrupted the supply routes, their stealth allowing them to strike and vanish before the enemy could respond.
Simharaj’s forces left their mark on every skirmish—broken barricades, burned supplies, and the claw-marked trees that symbolized their defiance.
But with every victory came greater risks. Vyaghra’s forces were relentless, adapting to the coalition’s tactics with brutal efficiency. Patrols grew larger, their routes more unpredictable, and the traps they set became deadlier.
One evening, as Simharaj’s group regrouped in a sheltered grove, a wolf scout approached, his fur matted with blood.
“They’re closing in,” the scout panted, his voice urgent. “A large patrol—at least ten strong—is heading this way. Tigers and jackals.”
Simharaj’s ears flattened, his mind racing. “We can’t face them head-on. We need to draw them into an ambush.”
Chitra stepped forward, his amber eyes gleaming. “There’s a narrow gorge not far from here. If we lure them in, we can trap them.”
“It’s risky,” Varun growled, his gaze shifting to Simharaj. “But it could work.”
Simharaj nodded. “Let’s move. We don’t have much time.”
The Gorge Trap
The coalition moved swiftly, positioning themselves along the edges of the narrow gorge. The rocky cliffs provided natural cover, their jagged edges concealing the wolves and leopards waiting in ambush.
Simharaj stood at the center of the gorge, his golden coat a beacon in the fading light. He was the bait, and his heart pounded as he heard the approaching patrol.
The tigers and jackals entered the gorge cautiously, their sharp eyes scanning the terrain. At their head was a massive tiger with a scarred muzzle, his growl echoing through the narrow passage.
“There’s the cub,” the tiger snarled, his claws flexing. “Vyaghra will reward us well for this.”
Simharaj held his ground, his amber eyes locked on the approaching enemy. When they were close enough, he let out a fierce roar—a signal that echoed through the gorge.
From above, the wolves and leopards struck, their coordinated attack catching the patrol off guard. Rocks tumbled down from the cliffs as the coalition forced the enemy into a chaotic retreat.
The scarred tiger snarled, his body coiling as he prepared to lunge at Simharaj. But before he could strike, Vara charged from the side, his tusks slamming into the tiger with bone-crushing force.
The patrol scattered, their roars and yelps fading into the distance as they fled the gorge.
Victory and Reflection
As the dust settled, Simharaj stood at the center of the gorge, his chest heaving. Around him, the coalition regrouped, their eyes filled with a mixture of triumph and exhaustion.
“We’re wearing them down,” Chitra said, his tone approving. “Vyaghra’s forces are spread thin.”
“But they’re not broken yet,” Varun added, his voice grim. “The tiger king won’t stop until we face him directly.”
Simharaj nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Then we keep pushing. Every step we take brings us closer to Simhasthala—and to ending this.”
The forest echoed with their determination, the sound of unity rising above the shadows of war.
The cliffs surrounding Simhasthala loomed like jagged teeth, their steep faces casting long shadows over the forest below. The air grew colder as Simharaj and his coalition approached, the sound of distant winds howling through the crevices. Somewhere beyond these cliffs lay the heart of the forest—the place that had been his family’s domain, now defiled by Man Vyaghra’s tyranny.
Simharaj stood at the base of the cliffs, his amber eyes tracing the rocky ascent. The climb would be treacherous, but it was their only path forward. Vyaghra had fortified the lower trails, filling them with traps and patrols. The cliffs, though dangerous, offered a chance to take the tiger king by surprise.
Beside him, Naka squinted up at the towering rocks, his whiskers twitching. “You really know how to pick a challenge, cub. Do you even have a plan for this?”
Simharaj glanced at the mongoose, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We climb carefully, we stick together, and we don’t look down.”
“Great,” Naka muttered. “No looking down. Easy.”
Vara grunted, his broad shoulders shifting. “I’m not much for climbing, but if this is the way to Simhasthala, I’ll find a way.”
Chitra leapt onto a nearby rock, his sleek form perfectly balanced. “The leopards will take the lead. We’re used to scaling cliffs like these. The wolves can follow, and the rest will stay close behind.”
Varun stepped forward, his grizzled face set in a determined frown. “Agreed. But we’ll need to move quickly. If Vyaghra’s patrols spot us, we’ll lose the advantage.”
Simharaj nodded, his chest tightening as he looked up at the daunting ascent. “Let’s move.”
The climb began under the fading light of dusk, the cliffs bathed in a faint golden glow. Chitra and his leopards moved swiftly, their agile bodies navigating the rocky terrain with ease. Behind them, the wolves followed, their claws scraping against the stone as they ascended.
Simharaj stayed near the center of the group, his muscles burning as he pulled himself up the jagged rocks. Naka clung to his side, his small frame surprisingly nimble as he leapt from ledge to ledge. Vara, true to his word, found a way, his powerful legs propelling him up the less steep sections of the climb.
“This isn’t so bad,” Naka said, his tone light despite the strain in his voice. “Just a bunch of rocks, right? Nothing to—”
A sudden crack echoed through the cliffs as a loose stone gave way beneath one of the wolves. The animal yelped, scrambling to regain his footing as the stone tumbled into the void below.
Simharaj reacted instantly, leaping down to brace the wolf with his body. “Hold on!” he growled, his claws digging into the stone to steady them both.
The wolf, a young scout with wide, frightened eyes, nodded shakily. “Thank you, Simharaj.”
“Stay close to the others,” Simharaj said, his voice firm but kind. “We’ll get through this together.”
As night fell, the climb grew even more perilous. The moonlight provided some illumination, but shadows deepened the crevices and made every step uncertain. The air grew colder, each breath visible in the form of pale mist.
Chitra paused on a narrow ledge, his amber eyes scanning the path ahead. “We’re close to the top,” he said softly, his voice carrying back to the others. “But there’s movement above. Patrols.”
Varun growled low, his ears flattening. “They’re guarding the cliffs. If they spot us now, we’ll lose everything.”
Simharaj’s mind raced. They couldn’t afford to be discovered, not when they were so close. He turned to Naka. “Can you get up there quietly and distract them?”
The mongoose grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. “Quietly is what I do best.”
Before anyone could respond, Naka darted ahead, his small frame disappearing into the shadows.
The patrol consisted of three jackals and a tiger, their sharp eyes scanning the edges of the cliff. Naka crept up behind them, his movements silent as the night. He spotted a pile of loose stones near the edge and grinned to himself.
“Let’s make this interesting,” he whispered.
With a swift kick, Naka sent the stones tumbling down the opposite side of the cliff. The patrol snapped to attention, their ears perking at the sound.
“What was that?” one of the jackals growled, his eyes narrowing.
“Check it out,” the tiger ordered, his tail lashing.
As the patrol moved toward the sound, Naka slipped back into the shadows, his grin widening. “Too easy.”
With the patrol distracted, Simharaj and the others resumed their climb. By the time the patrol returned, the coalition had already slipped past them, their forms blending into the rocks as they reached the top of the cliffs.
The view from the summit was breathtaking. Simhasthala stretched out before them, its jagged defenses illuminated by the faint glow of distant fires. But even from this height, the danger was evident—Vyaghra’s forces were everywhere, their patrols moving with disciplined precision.
Simharaj stood at the edge of the cliff, his chest heaving as he surveyed the scene. Beside him, Chitra and Varun exchanged uneasy glances.
“This is it,” Simharaj said softly, his voice carrying the weight of their journey. “The final stretch.”
Varun growled low. “It won’t be easy.”
“Nothing worth fighting for ever is,” Simharaj replied.
The coalition gathered on the cliffs, their eyes fixed on Simhasthala. For a moment, there was only silence, the stillness of the night broken by the faint rustle of leaves in the wind.
“We’ve come this far,” Simharaj said, turning to face his allies. “We’ve faced every challenge, overcome every obstacle. Now, we stand at the edge of something greater than ourselves. Together, we will take back what was stolen. Together, we will make this forest whole again.”
The wolves howled, the leopards roared, and the rest of the coalition raised their voices in unison.
Simharaj lifted his head, his amber eyes blazing with resolve. “Prepare yourselves. The battle for Simhasthala begins tomorrow.”
The dawn broke with an eerie stillness, the sky tinged with hues of gold and crimson. The forest below Simhasthala seemed to hold its breath as Simharaj’s coalition prepared for the battle ahead. From the cliffs they had climbed the night before, they could see the tiger king’s fortress clearly now—a sprawling network of jagged rocks and fortified barricades, patrolled by Vyaghra’s forces.
Simharaj stood at the edge of the cliffs, his golden coat glowing in the soft light of the rising sun. Beside him, Varun and Chitra surveyed the scene, their faces etched with quiet determination.
“It’s formidable,” Chitra said, his sharp amber eyes scanning the defenses. “Vyaghra has built his stronghold well.”
Varun growled low, his tail flicking. “Stronghold or not, we’ve come too far to turn back now.”
Simharaj nodded, his gaze steady. “We won’t turn back. But this isn’t just about strength—it’s about strategy. We’ve weakened his patrols and disrupted his supply lines. Now, we use that to our advantage.”
The Plan
Simharaj gathered the leaders of the coalition beneath a canopy of ancient trees, their forms shrouded in the dappled shadows. He stood before them, his voice calm but commanding.
“We split into three groups,” Simharaj began, tracing the outline of Simhasthala’s defenses on the dirt with a claw. “Chitra’s leopards will take the cliffs on the northern edge. Their agility will allow them to strike quickly and retreat before Vyaghra’s forces can regroup.”
Chitra dipped his head, his sleek form radiating confidence. “Consider it done.”
“Varun,” Simharaj continued, turning to the wolf leader, “you and your pack will take the western flank. Use the trees for cover, disrupt their patrols, and keep them distracted.”
Varun growled in approval, his sharp teeth flashing. “The wolves are ready.”
“And I’ll lead the central force,” Simharaj said. “We’ll strike directly at their main gate, drawing their attention and forcing Vyaghra to commit his forces. It won’t be easy, but it will give the others the chance to breach their defenses.”
Daksha, the scarred wild dog, let out a bark of approval. “Sounds like a fight worth having.”
The First Assault
The attack began just as the sun climbed above the horizon. Chitra’s leopards struck first, their sleek forms darting along the northern cliffs. They moved like shadows, striking isolated patrols and vanishing before reinforcements could arrive.
On the western flank, Varun’s wolves moved in tight formation, their howls echoing through the forest as they clashed with Vyaghra’s jackals. Their coordinated attacks sowed chaos among the tiger king’s forces, drawing them away from the central defenses.
At the heart of the assault, Simharaj led the central force—a mixed group of wolves, wild dogs, and monkeys. They advanced through the dense underbrush, their movements synchronized as they approached the main gate of Simhasthala.
The gate itself was a formidable structure, reinforced with thick logs and guarded by a squad of tigers and panthers. As the coalition emerged from the forest, the defenders roared in challenge, their sharp claws gleaming in the sunlight.
Simharaj stepped forward, his voice rising above the noise. “This is our forest! Stand down, or face the consequences!”
The tiger leading the defenders snarled, his body coiling with tension. “This is Vyaghra’s forest now, cub. You’re nothing but a shadow of your father.”
Simharaj’s amber eyes blazed. “Then let this shadow show you the light.”
The Central Battle
The clash was immediate and fierce. Simharaj leapt into the fray, his claws flashing as he met the tiger head-on. Around him, the coalition fought with a ferocity born of desperation and hope.
Vara charged through the chaos, his massive form a battering ram as he broke through the enemy lines. Naka darted between the defenders, his sharp teeth finding vulnerable spots and forcing the tigers to split their attention.
Despite their strength, Vyaghra’s forces began to falter. The constant pressure from the coalition’s three-pronged assault left them disorganized and vulnerable.
A Turning Point
As the central force pushed closer to the gate, Simharaj spotted a weakness—a gap in the barricades where the defenders had failed to reinforce the logs. He turned to his group, his voice sharp.
“Focus on that gap!” he commanded. “We can break through!”
The coalition surged forward, their combined strength overwhelming the defenders. With a final, thunderous crash, the gate splintered under the weight of their assault.
The path to Simhasthala was open.
The Aftermath
As the dust settled, Simharaj stood at the broken gate, his chest heaving. Around him, the coalition regrouped, their voices rising in a triumphant roar.
“We’ve breached their defenses,” Varun growled, his tone fierce. “But this isn’t over.”
Chitra nodded, his amber eyes gleaming. “Vyaghra will strike back. He won’t let us take this without a fight.”
Simharaj lifted his head, his gaze fixed on the heart of Simhasthala. “Then we press on. We’ve taken the first step—but the battle for the forest is far from over.”