The stars had only just begun to peek out when Corvin, Moxa, Catherine and Branik stood before Thorne, waiting for their instructions. The commander, towering and broad-shouldered as ever, handed over a rough map and laid out the orders in his usual gruff voice.
"Head out to both sides of the main road. Check the woods for anything unnatural. Predators, remnants of bandits, signs of movement. You report back anything odd. Got it?"
Corvin nodded with the rest, stifling a sigh. The cold had already begun to seep through his boots.
They were assigned horses as scouts, but none of them—except maybe Moxa—had ever ridden one. And the forest was unsuitable for horses to travel anyway.
They set off on foot and veered off into the woods to the right of the road.
The torchlight flickered against the tall, twisted trees. Autumn leaves crunched beneath their boots, though the damp underbrush made each step feel heavier than the last. The forest on the right side of the road wasn't too dense, but it was just thick enough to feel like a maze in the dark.
Corvin wiped the sweat from his brow, breath fogging in the cool air. His legs ached. His calves had been burning ever since the march started earlier that day. And now, climbing over roots and ducking under low branches was only making things worse.
"This is awful," he muttered.
'I hope you fail in everything you do, trip over every ledge you walk over, never finding the love of your life…' Corvin silently cursed whoever assigned him as a scout for the fifth time that day.
"Vuk was right, things only got worse."
Catherine grumbled beside him, swatting a hanging branch out of her face.
"I thought scouts were supposed to be nimble or something," Moxa added, trying to sound cheerful but clearly struggling. "We're barely crawling."
Corvin grunted, stepping awkwardly over a gnarled root.
Branik said nothing, walking quietly at the back with his torch held close to his chest. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow, the soft glow of the flame making him look paler than usual.
"You alright back there, Branik?"
Catherine asked, turning her head slightly.
He flinched. "Y-yeah, I-I'm fine... just, um, n-not used to... this much dark."
"You'll get used to i—," Corvin stumbled. A loud crack echoed as he tripped over a twisted root and tumbled forward, torch clattering to the ground.
"Corvin!" Moxa rushed to him. "You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," Corvin winced, brushing dirt from his sleeve. His knee throbbed. "Just... roots."
"You're bleeding a bit," Catherine noted, crouching beside him.
"Hold still."
Branik hovered a few steps away, looking concerned but hesitant.
"See? This is why I wanted to stay near the road," Corvin muttered.
Corvin silently cursed the guy in charge of assigning his role once again.
"Don't worry," Moxa said, patting him on the back. "Next time, try walking around the roots."
Corvin gave him a tired glare, but smirked faintly.
As they pressed deeper, the air felt heavier. The silence was thick—no chirping, no rustling. Just the sound of their boots and the occasional crack of twigs underfoot.
Catherine broke the quiet. "Anyone else getting that weird feeling? Like... something's off?"
Corvin nodded slowly. "Yeah. Like the forest is holding its breath."
"Hah, spooky," Moxa chuckled uneasily. "Maybe there's a ghost fox waiting for us."
"W-why would you say that?" Branik's voice shook slightly.
"Relax, Branik. I'm just—"
Suddenly, a pair of glowing eyes flashed in the torchlight ahead.
"What the hell—!" Catherine yelped, drawing her short blade.
Corvin jumped, nearly dropping his torch again. Moxa took a step back, pulling Branik behind him instinctively.
Branik let out a terrified yelp and fell onto his rear.
The figure moved—and revealed itself.
A small, bushy-tailed fox.
Silence.
Then, Moxa laughed. Loudly.
"By order, you should've seen your faces!"
"I almost stabbed a fox," Catherine muttered, red-faced.
"I-it... it l-looked bigger... in the d-dark..." Branik stammered, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
Catherine's amusement faded. "Hey, hey, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, Bran. Are you alright?"
He nodded quickly, still not meeting her eyes. She knelt beside him.
"Seriously, you okay?"
"Y-yeah... j-just startled. I-I'm fine."
She gave him a soft pat on the arm.
"Good. Next time it's your turn to scare us back."
Corvin watched the exchange, frowning slightly. Something still felt wrong.
He raised his torch again and squinted into the distance. The shadows twisted at the edge of the light—more than usual. The air was... still. Not silent, but stilled. Like everything around them was waiting. Watching.
Nothing moved, but Corvin couldn't shake the tension in his chest. The forest was wrong.
They noted a few trampled flowers, scratch marks on barks, and some startled birds—but nothing worth reporting. Eventually, they circled out toward the left side of the road, brushing through even thicker foliage. Their torches cast long shadows against the trees, the flickering light making it harder to distinguish the shape of things.
They said little now. The jokes had died. Even Moxa was quiet.
They once again took mental notes of the surroundings.
By the time they returned to the camp, it was past midnight. Their legs were sore, boots soaked from unseen puddles, and Corvin's knee ached from where he'd fallen.
Thorne was still awake, seated by the fire with a map spread out over his knee. His massive frame barely moved as they approached.
Catherine stepped forward first, clearing her throat. "Forest seemed empty, sir. But... something felt off."
He looked up at her. Then to the others. Then back down.
He simply nodded, his mouth slightly curled up and said.
"Go get some rest."
They saluted clumsily and wandered off toward their tents.
Thorne didn't look up again, but his eyes were sharp. He'd felt it too—that silence in the trees. And the girl had noticed it too.
Promising.