The rogue camp was alive with the crackling of fire and the murmurs of conversation, the smell of damp earth mixing with the sharp scent of burning wood. Shadows danced along the worn-out tents and scattered crates, casting distorted figures against the trees. The night air was crisp, and a distant howl echoed across the vast expanse of forest, a stark reminder that they weren’t alone in these wild lands.
Selina moved with silent precision, her senses heightened, her pulse steady despite the unease curling in her gut. The others were gathered near the central fire pit, their raucous laughter and drunken boasting filling the air. Some clutched stolen bottles of liquor, swapping stories of the last raid, reveling in their victories.
But Selina wasn’t celebrating.
Something felt off.
Roma
