Three Days Later – Outskirts of the Southern Wilds
The wagon creaked through thickening mist, the wheels squelching in half-melted moss and mud. Birds didn't sing here.
Even insects had stopped buzzing. The forest wasn't silent—it was muffled. Like sound itself was being drained.
Luka walked ahead, blades at his back, eyes always scanning.
Serene walked beside the wagon, shield on her arm, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a constant frown.
Gregor, sitting up front with reins in hand, muttered, "I've fought trolls in swamps that felt friendlier than this."
In the back, Arthur sat with his arms crossed and a very obvious tracking rune burned into his right gauntlet—a failsafe enchantment. The guild's idea, not Luka's.
Snow peeked over Luka's shoulder and let out a low, suspicious hiss.
Luka didn't look back. "Something's following."
Gregor's axe came loose instantly. "Distance?"
"Close."
A beat.
Then a rustle.
Then—
"Left!" Luka snapped.
A blur leapt from the trees.
