The forest seemed to draw in its breath as the group began their cautious advance. Leaves whispered above, the occasional shaft of light piercing through the canopy to dapple the mossy ground. Insects buzzed lazily, oblivious to the tension in the air.
James could feel the hair on his arms standing on end. His grip on his staff was firm, but his eyes never stopped scanning the ground ahead. Ilyanna moved with the practiced silence of a hunter, every step deliberate, her bow ready but not drawn. Dannevie stayed near James, murmuring wind detection spells under his breath to sense disturbances ahead.
Unfortunately, Chester and Argo had other ideas.
They walked at the front, Chester with his sword resting casually on his shoulder, Argo swinging his gauntleted fists like he was warming up for a tavern brawl. Neither seemed to grasp the meaning of stealth—or care about it.
"See, this is what I'm talking about," Chester said over his shoulder, his voice far too loud for the situation. "You lot are acting like the forest itself is going to bite you."
James didn't look up from the trail. "That's because it will, if you don't pay attention."
"Relax," Argo chuckled, stepping onto a patch of oddly raised earth. "We've done this before."
Ilyanna's head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Argo—stop!"
It was too late. The ground beneath him sank with a sickening crunch as a concealed mechanism clicked into place.
A sharp whistle cut through the air—a signal, James realized, not a random sound. From somewhere above, a weighted log studded with crude metal spikes swung down toward the group on a length of vine.
Dannevie reacted first, shoving James aside with a burst of wind that sent him stumbling to the ground. The log whooshed past where James had been standing an instant earlier, smashing into a tree with enough force to splinter the trunk.
The log bounced back on its arc, now heading straight for Dannevie.
James barely had time to thrust his hand forward. "Mana Shield!"
A shimmering blue barrier flared into existence, intercepting the deadly swing. The impact rattled James's bones through the magic, but it was enough to slow the log's momentum. Dannevie ducked low, rolling clear before it came swinging back.
For a moment, no one spoke. The forest's quiet returned, but now it felt oppressive, as if the trees themselves were watching.
Chester gave a low whistle. "Guess that one was a little close, huh?"
"A little close?" James's voice rose despite himself. "If Dannevie hadn't pushed me and I hadn't shielded him, one of us would be dead right now!"
Ilyanna strode past Chester, her eyes like frost. "You're lucky goblins set traps before they post guards. If they'd heard that, we'd be surrounded."
Argo scratched the back of his head, his grin nervous now. "Was just walking. Didn't see anything."
"That's the problem," Ilyanna shot back. "You weren't looking."
They pressed on, this time with James and Ilyanna taking the lead, scanning for more signs of danger. The goblins' craftsmanship was crude but effective—thin tripwires hidden under leaves, shallow pits lined with sharpened sticks, and no doubt more swinging logs waiting for careless intruders.
Half an hour later, it happened again.
Chester, clearly chafing under the slower pace, stepped ahead and brushed aside a hanging vine. The movement tugged something taut, and James's stomach dropped when he heard the telltale snap of a trigger.
"Down!" Dannevie's voice cut through the air.
This time, a cluster of jagged stones wrapped in vines dropped from above, plummeting toward the path. James dove sideways, his shoulder slamming into the earth. Dannevie wasn't as fast—one rock grazed his arm, leaving a deep cut.
Blood welled instantly, and Dannevie hissed through his teeth. "I'm fine—just a scratch."
Ilyanna's expression hardened. "A scratch that wouldn't exist if someone knew how to follow instructions."
Chester raised his hands mockingly. "Oh, so now it's my fault rocks fall from the sky?"
"Yes," James snapped, dusting himself off. "It is. Because you pulled the trigger that dropped them."
They paused in a small clearing to catch their breath. Dannevie wrapped his arm with a strip of cloth torn from his robe, still smiling faintly despite the blood.
"You're all right with traps, Scholar," he said quietly to James. "Quick reflexes."
James managed a small smile. "Comes from spending my childhood avoiding rotten floorboards and falling shingles."
The tension in his voice was obvious, though, and it mirrored the unspoken feeling threading through the group: the Black Claw members were a liability.
Ilyanna crouched low, scanning ahead again. "We're close. I can smell the smoke stronger now. If they've set this many traps this far out, the outpost itself will be worse."
Dannevie nodded. "And louder than necessary people will only make it harder."
Chester smirked but didn't answer. Argo kept his head down, muttering something about "just bad luck."
James glanced through the trees, catching the flicker of orange light in the distance. The goblins were out there—listening, watching, maybe even laughing at the chaos their traps had caused.
This wasn't going to be a clean job.
This was going to be a test of whether they could survive each other before they even faced the enemy.