The scoutflies danced in the dark, pulsing green against the tangled undergrowth. Their light flickered between thick roots and wet leaves, guiding the way forward. Viraj nudged Hadiya with his knees, and the Seikret shifted her gait effortlessly, slipping from a brisk trot into a long, loping stride. She was fast—silent when she wanted to be, and right now, she wanted to be.

The jungle was alive with sound. Chirping, clicking, the distant bellow of something massive shaking the canopy. The air was thick with moisture, the kind that clung to the skin and soured the breath. Viraj inhaled through his nose, sifting the scents—damp earth, decaying wood, something musky and sharp beneath it all. The prey was close.

Tricco, perched at the tail end of the saddle, shifted his weight, ears twitching. "Smell that? That ain't normal."

Viraj grunted. He smelled it, something was off. The scoutflies weren't darting straight anymore; they were swirling, hesitating midair. Not from confusion—no, something in the environment was making them wary.

Hadiya huffed, her crest feathers ruffling. She felt it too. Good girl.

"Keep your claws ready," Viraj murmured.

The foliage thickened, the undergrowth pressing in tighter. Viraj tugged Hadiya's reins, slowing her to a cautious walk. Tricco slipped off the saddle without a word, landing softly in the damp loam. His tail flicked once before he slunk forward, vanishing into the green.

Viraj waited. He could track well enough, but Tricco was better at moving unseen. Small, quick, a shadow that could sneak past even the sharpest eyes.

Silence.

Then—a sharp, high whistle. Tricco's signal.

Viraj swung off Hadiya, landing firm, boots sinking slightly into the wet earth. He gave the Seikret a quick pat on the neck. "Stay."

Hadiya huffed, shifting her weight impatiently. She wanted the chase.

Viraj unsheathed his blade as he moved forward, stepping where Tricco had gone.