The forest was cloaked in a pale, hazy morning light, beams of gold slipping through the thick canopy above. The Sloth camp lay still, its eerie silence broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the distant caw of a crow. Mist still clung to the undergrowth, curling around roots and stones like spectral smoke.
Aira lay unconscious on the damp earth, her body limp beneath Bjorn's protective weight. His chest rose and fell unevenly, eyes sharp despite the fatigue in his bruised frame. He stood guard over her with a feral protectiveness, gaze flicking between the Sloth leader and the woman of Lust.
The Lust leader stood opposite, her presence like a blade cutting into the morning calm. Her lips curled faintly, half a smirk, half a threat, and in her hands were the twin hammers she had b
