The crisp air of the forest carried the distant scent of pine and damp earth as Prussia rode through the winding paths, his horse’s hooves muffled by the soft undergrowth. The late afternoon sun filtered through the branches, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across his path.

Then—he felt it.

A presence.

His fingers instinctively tightened around the reins, grey eyes narrowing as he slowed his horse to a stop. Someone was watching him. He couldn’t see them, not yet, but he knew. Years of battle had sharpened his instincts too well to ignore the prickle at the back of his neck.

Prussia turned his head slightly, voice sharp yet laced with curiosity.

“…Who’s there?”