Kaelen stood among the familiar trees , the bark was rough under his palm, the leaves overhead were green. Sunlight filtered through. Warm. Golden. The air smelled of earth and moss and something else, something sweet. Rotting maybe flowers that had bloomed too long and were starting to turn.
The men did not see him.
They walked past. Five of them or Six. Their boots crushed the ferns. Their voices carried. Loud. Rough. They laughed at something. The kind of laugh that came from men who had done something they were not proud of but would never admit.
Kaelen followed.
His feet made no sound on the forest floor. The leaves did not crunch. The twigs did not snap. He was a ghost in this place. A watcher.
The men reached a clearing.
A girl lay on the ground. Her dress was floral. Blue and yellow. Tiny flowers printed on white cotton. Her hair was braided. Brown, ribbons tied at the ends. Her face was peaceful she looked a sleep but they all knew she was dead.
