***Rainah***
The forest was a cathedral of frozen silence, the kind of quiet that didn't just exist—it pressed against you, waiting for a sound to shatter it. Sawyer was moving a few paces ahead, his rifle held at a low ready, his eyes scanning the treeline with that infuriating, methodical focus. I was trailing him, my senses stretched thin, listening for the snap of a twig or the shift of a weight that didn't belong to the wind.
We were deep in the Bloodmoon's territory now, a place where the trees grew thick and gnarled, choking out the light. It was a tactical nightmare, a labyrinth of shadows where an ambush could come from anywhere.
"Keep your head down," he murmured without turning back. "The wind is shifting. They’ll be able to scent us soon."
I didn't answer. I didn't need to.
