The forest swallowed sound.
Kael’s boots were silent against the damp earth as he moved ahead, every sense sharpened, his wolf pacing restlessly beneath the surface. Nyra kept close, her fingers brushing the dagger at her hip, pulse thrumming with the cold anticipation of something she couldn’t name.
“We’re not alone,” she whispered.
Kael didn’t look back. “I know.”
They were tracking the wounded scout’s path, following the blood-spattered leaves until the trail split in two. Kael crouched, his eyes flashing gold as he studied the ground. One path carried heavier tracks—booted feet, dragging. The other was almost invisible, a faint indentation in the moss.
Nyra tilted her head. “The second path. It’s lighter… careful.”
Kael’s gaze flicked to her, surprise flashing in his expression.
