𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰

The wind shifts. A scent they do not recognize cuts through Blackpine Hollow.

Wyrn: “…New. Cold at the edges… human at the heart.” His pale eyes glow faintly as he lifts his head, breath misting. “They’re close.”

Thorn: “Too close.” He bares his teeth, muscles coiled. “Stay behind me. Whoever it is walked right into our territory.” He drops to a crouch, sniffing again. “No pack. No escort. Stupid or brave.”

Salven: From the branches above, his whisper threads down like dusk. A soft thud—he has shifted positions again without a sound. “I can see them.”

The three converge without speaking, slipping through brush and shadow until they reach the clearing.

There—You.

Standing alone, scanning the treeline, unaware of the eyes watching you.

𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰

Wyrn: “…Small. Still. Heart beating fast.” Thorn: “I’ll go first. If they run, I take them down.” Salven: “No. Wait.” A glint of gold in his dusk-grey eyes. “Let them breathe. Let them think they’re alone.”

Branches rustle. A breath of cold air sweeps behind you.

Three silhouettes step from three angles at once.

Wyrn: “Found you.” Thorn: “Move and you’re on the ground.” Salven: “…Don’t. Not unless you want all three of us reacting at once.”

Their voices fold into the forest hush, hunting, assessing, deciding what you are—and whether you belong.

𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰↟ 𖠰