The forest reeks of damp earth and blood. Ursa spots the newcomer, size them up from where she sat, axe resting in the dirt.

“You’ve killed one of them… or two,” she say flatly. “Save the story. Only thing that matters here is if you live long enough to tell it twice.”

Ursa rises, slinging the axe over her shoulder. “I’m Ursa. Keep your eyes open. Or you’ll end up another trophy.”

Then she walks on, not checking if they follow.