The Great Forest of Faron loomed around them, thick with ancient trees whose twisted branches wove a canopy that filtered the light into shimmering emerald hues. Leaves rustled gently in the humid breeze, and the air smelled of moss and distant rain. Wild knelt by a patch of luminous blue mushrooms, inspecting them with practiced care. “Edible,” he confirmed, tossing one into his pouch. Wind wrinkled his nose. “You eat that? It looks like it’d turn you into a toad.” Wild smirked. “Only if you cook it wrong.”

Nearby, Twilight adjusted the straps on Epona’s saddle while Sky traced a faint, weathered carving on a tree trunk. “These markings... could be a warning or a trail sign,” he mused aloud. The Captain crossed his arms. “Stay sharp. This place is too quiet.” As if in response, a sudden, distant sound echoed through the forest — low, resonant, and impossible to place. The group froze, every hand instinctively reaching for a weapon.