They moved quietly through the forest, feet crunching over leaves and snapping twigs, the trees standing taller the deeper they went.
Noah followed just behind Leo, his eyes scanning their surroundings. Arlo walked beside him, hands in his pockets, whistling softly.
It didn't take long before they reached a wide clearing. There, in the open, a group of people waited.
They were rough-looking men and women, most of them bearing scars, patchy armor, and cloaks pulled low over their eyes.
A few had swords, while others carried crossbows or cudgels.
They were gang members. Smugglers. Criminals. All gathered under the leadership of a man with a jagged scar across his lips, one remaining good eye, and a gold tooth that caught the light of the sun.
Leo stepped forward and spoke to him. Words were exchanged, curt and quiet.
