The rain had softened overnight, leaving the forest breathing in silver mist. Every leaf hung heavy with water, and the earth gave underfoot with a slow, reluctant sigh. Charlisa woke to the drumming of drops against the thatched roof, a steady sound broken only by the low thud of boots in the clearing outside.
Kael was already there, his dark hair plastered to his neck, his tunic damp from the mist. He stood with the other hunters around a half-covered rack of spears and bows, the air thick with the smell of oiled wood and damp leather. The hunt in the rainy season was always riskier—tracks washed away in minutes, game scattered to higher ground, and the swollen rivers could turn a return path into a trap.
Charlisa carried a bundle of dried herbs to the matriarch, who was busy blessing each hunter. A thin trail of incense curled upward from her hand-carved bowl, mingling with the rain-heavy air.
"More than boar roam the forest," the matriarch murmured as she passed a charm to Kael. "Keep your eyes sharp. The signs have returned."
Charlisa felt her chest tighten. She had heard the whispers earlier in the week—small piles of carved stones near the riverbank, a strip of cloth caught high in a tree, and once, a crude mark burned into the bark of a sapling. These were not the marks of animals. They belonged to the unseen watcher who had haunted the edges of her thoughts since the dry season.
When Kael returned to their hut to gather his pack, she took a step closer.
"Those marks… are you sure it's safe to go?"
His jaw flexed, but his voice was steady. "We can't stop hunting because someone wants to rattle us. That's when they win."
He brushed his knuckles lightly against hers before slinging his bow over his shoulder. The touch was brief, but it left a lingering warmth that battled the chill in her stomach.
The hunters left in a slow, deliberate line, boots sinking into the sodden ground. Their shapes blurred into the gray-green mist until the forest swallowed them entirely. The rain picked up again, steady and patient, as if the sky itself wanted to see how the story would unfold.
Charlisa stood under the eaves long after they had gone, her gaze fixed on the treeline where the last shadow had vanished. She wondered if the watcher was already there, hidden among dripping leaves, waiting.