Torren did not shout the order to retreat. He spoke it low, firm, and in a voice that allowed no argument, and somehow that quiet command carried more fear than any scream could have. The surviving hunters turned at once, forming a tight cluster as they pulled away from the clearing. No one dared linger. The surrounding forest seemed to breathe with a slow, hungry rhythm, as if the entire wilderness had been waiting for them to turn their backs. The air felt heavier than before, thick enough that every step felt like forcing themselves through water. The shadows stretched unnaturally across the ground, long and crooked, and every time one of them blinked those shadows seemed to rearrange themselves into shapes that suggested movement.
They had not taken more than ten steps when the first
