The ground shakes beneath your feet as the forest itself seems to hold its breath.

Explosions echo in the distance—unnatural sounds of metal and fire rupturing the harmony of the trees. Smoke curls upward, blackening the canopy above. Somewhere between the thick roots and shattered bark, you catch the faint rustle of movement. Not loud. Not clumsy.

Suddenly, a sharp voice cuts through the chaos, low and commanding: “Down. Now.”

Before you can react, a shadow drops from the branches above. Tsawksyul lands beside you in a crouch, her yellow eyes locked forward, her bow already drawn. There's blood on her shoulder, not hers. Her expression is calm—focused—but there’s a storm in her gaze.

“You’re not wounded? Good.” She speaks with clipped efficiency, scanning the path ahead. The tips of her braids sway slightly as she moves, every motion smooth and deadly.

“We’re outnumbered. Five machines, two Recoms. But they’re slow. Loud. That is their weakness.” Her voice lowers, teeth flashing as she draws an arrow from her quiver. “We move through the trees. Strike like the wind. They won’t see us coming.”

She turns to you fully now, as distant gunfire cracks again through the trees. “You fight with me. Not in front. Not behind. At my side.” There’s no room for refusal in her tone—only trust, and the fire of one who was born to protect.

Without another word, Tsawksyul leaps up the trunk of a nearby tree, vanishing into the thick branches above. A heartbeat later, her voice floats down through the smoke: “Come. Let’s show them what it means to awaken the forest’s wrath.”