Edward kept his distance.
Shadows folded around his narrow frame as he moved along the outskirts of the village. The night pressed in quietly, the stars hid behind the thin layers of clouds, while the moon's pale light struggled to illuminate the uneven dirt path.
A few paces before him, the scarred man continued his pursuit of the unaware passerby.
Edward's thoughts drifted between the scar on the man's left eye, the warhammer he carried beside him and the uneven stagger he walked with, the same one that caught his attention in the muddy footprints at the crime scene.
There was no mistaking it.
The man before him was the killer, and the unaware passerby, his next victim.
Edward's feet made almost no sound against the dirt.
He slipped between trees and bushes, keeping low, letting the undergrowth hide his movements. He could see the scarred man's grip tighten on the warhammer he carried, muscles flexing subtly, as if anticipating something. Each breath the man took seemed measured and careful.
His target continued moving forward, oblivious to what was about to unfold.
Edward felt a flicker of unease.
He began to question his next action.
Should he stop him now, before anything happens to the unaware passerby? Could he even stop the massive man? Or should he just go back to the Chief's Residence and inform him about the killer's identity, leaving the passerby on his own?
Then, before he could decide on his next move, the scarred man came to a halt.
Edward froze mid-step, his instincts screaming.
The man's head whipped around, eyes scanning the darkness behind him.
Edward barely had time to dive behind a small wooden hut, heart hammering as he pressed himself against the rough timber. His pulse echoed in his ears, each beat matching the tension clawing up his spine.
"Did he see me?" Edward's mind raced, the thought twisting cold in his gut.
The scarred man didn't move immediately.
He lingered, shoulders tense, eyes piercing through the dark as if he could see through every hiding place, every tree, every shadow.
Time stretched, each second dragging longer than the last.
Edward dared not breathe too deeply, fearing the sound might alert the man. The wind whispered past the hut, ruffling loose leaves and brushing against his cheek, yet the figure remained. He could feel the weight of the scarred man's gaze like a physical pressure, pushing him toward an edge he had never reached before.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Edward slowly peeked out from behind the hut. The scarred man had changed direction. He was no longer following the passerby, who continued down the path, unaware of how close death had almost come.
The scarred man was now moving toward the edge of the woods, warhammer resting lightly against his shoulder.
Edward's brow furrowed.
"Was he not following him?" he whispered under his breath, the question tasting bitter. Why the sudden change? Had the man known he was being followed? Or had something else caught his attention?
Edward forced himself to stay calm, pushing the nagging thought aside. The chase was far from over. He moved silently, keeping the shadows between him and the scarred man, letting the trees mask his presence.
The sounds of the village faded behind him, replaced by the subtle rustle of leaves and the occasional snap of a branch underfoot.
The forest closed in around them, dense and dark, branches clawing at Edward's ragged tunic as he slipped further into the undergrowth.
The scarred man's movements were deliberate, almost careful now, his eyes scanning the woods ahead. Edward stayed on his trail, keeping a measured distance, careful not to make a sound that might reveal his presence.
His mind ran through everything he had observed so far—the staggering steps, the grip on the warhammer, the sudden halt, and now this deviation into the woods. Each detail added another layer to the puzzle, each observation feeding the instincts he had honed over years in another life.
What seemed like hours, though it could only have been minutes, seemed to pass.
Edward's senses sharpened with each step.
He noted the way the man's boots sank slightly into the soft soil, the faint scrape of metal against stone when the warhammer shifted, the way the man's gaze darted toward unseen sounds. Everything was a clue, every movement a message.
Then, suddenly, the scarred man vanished.
One moment, Edward could see him stepping behind a thick oak tree, and the next—nothing. There was no sound, no movement. Only the rustling of leaves and the fading echo of the man's boots against the muddy earth.
Edward froze.
His eyes flickered, sweeping over the shadows around him.
Something felt incredibly off. The quiet pressed in, clawing at his senses.
A coil of tension tightened in his stomach—his instincts screaming.
Then a voice sliced through the darkness, unmistakably close.
"Looking for me, boy?"