They did not cross by accident.
The eastern patrol reported movement just before dawn—three signatures cutting through river fog, disciplined spacing, no attempt to mask scent once they breached the shallows. That alone told me this was no test.
It was a statement.
By the time Derek, Jax, and I reached the ridge above the riverbank, the intruders had already moved ten kilometers inland. Fast. Purposeful. Not hunting.
Mapping.
The forest was quiet in that unnatural way it becomes when predators enter without panic. Birds stilled. Smaller animals withdrew. Even the wind seemed to hesitate between trees.
“They want us to engage,” Jax said, crouching to examine disturbed soil. His fingers pressed into the earth, measuring stride depth. “They’re not hiding.”
“No,” Derek agreed. “They’re
