The trees swallowed them whole.
Gone was the open clearing, the sun, the comfort of distant laughter. In its place: thick trunks, uneven ground, and the smell of wet loam and pine. Shadows shifted with every step. The trail ahead narrowed into a tight path barely wide enough for two.
Inigo led them in silence, hand raised for halts, eyes sweeping left and right. He wasn't treating this like training anymore.
He was treating it like war.
"Listen," he said, voice low. "The SAW is powerful—but it's loud, heavy, and slow to reposition. That means we adapt the rest of our team to protect it."
Meryl, the gun slung across her chest, looked grim but steady. Brenna moved beside her as assistant gunner, a belt of linked rounds draped over one shoulder like a sash. Hal and Sark followed as forward scouts, with Lyra and Lio trailing behind to close gaps and cover rear flanks.
