Eryndor! I think someone's coming!" The slime, jiggled on the ground and jumping from the ground to his shoulder, pulsed rapidly, its new little tail twitching with urgency, and its telepathic voice, sharp with warning.
Eryndor's head snapped up. He hadn't heard anything over the rush of adrenaline and notification chimes. But his slime ability now activated was incredibly attuned. He then gripped the newly transformed sword, its weight comforting, and darted behind the nearest thick-trunked oak, pressing himself against its rough bark, trying to blend into the shadows.
Moments later, a figure moved with impossible stealth through the clearing. It was a lone student, a male with his face not seen, moving with a silent grace that spoke of immense power and dangerous precision. He paused, scanning the area, his eyes lingering for a moment on the lingering mist where the Gloomfang Strider had been, and then, unsettlingly, towards the very tree Eryndor hid behind.
