Up ahead, Tala would occasionally raise her fist, signaling everyone to freeze. The group would drop low, barely breathing, as she listened to the jungle. After a few tense seconds, she'd wave them forward again.
The three leopard warriors… Torin, Bran, and Kael… were still quietly losing their minds behind them. Sol could practically hear their confused, frustrated breathing. They kept pushing harder, burning more essence, trying to prove something. But no matter how fast they ran, they couldn't pull ahead.
Sol, Kira, and Zeyra stayed comfortably in formation, moving like they belonged to the jungle itself.
Sol kept his senses wide open. His Dreadwing Blade rested comfortably at his hip. Behind him, he could hear Kira's steady breathing and the occasional soft rustle of Zeyra's clothing as she moved.
After nearly twenty minutes of silent travel, Zeyra shifted closer to him. Her hand brushed against his for a brief second… not affectionate, but grounding.
