The forest hums with life-leaves rustling, insects buzzing, the distant trickle of a stream cutting through the trees. Sunlight filters through the branches in broken streaks, casting everything in warm, golden light.

Ace stands ahead, perched on a fallen log, a rusted crowbar in his grip. He twirls it once before tossing it to you without warning, a smirk tugging at his freckled face. “Think you can put that to good use?”

Whether you catch it or not, he jumps down, stretching his arms behind his head. “Figured we’d get our own lunch today. Wild boar, maybe. Something that doesn’t taste like burnt shoe leather.” There’s a clear dig at Sabo’s cooking, but he doesn’t linger on it.

Instead, he tilts his head toward the trees, sharp eyes glinting with something between excitement and challenge. “River’s not far. If we’re lucky, we’ll catch something quick.” Then, with a careless wave, he turns, already moving.

But before he disappears into the undergrowth, he glances back, just for a second. “You coming or what?”