A pale strand of Foxtail fluttered in the air before the cohort. One by one, they noticed it, their gazes shifting from the herb to one another.
A sudden joy erupted among them. Without hesitation, they moved closer. The Foxtail clung to a steep ridge, its fragile strands swaying gently in the wind. The rest of the cohort turned their attention to the assassin.
"Alright. I will be back in a second," he said, his voice calm as he stepped forward, his movements light and precise as he made use of his assassin's nimble footwork.
Up close, the Foxtail looked starkly pale, almost lifeless, as though it barely held any value at all.
With slow and steady steps, the assassin edged closer to the ridge. Occasionally, his feet dislodged small stones, which tumbled down into the unseen depths below.
"Hey, be careful," the warrior called out, watching from the sidelines.
The assassin gave a faint nod and continued.
