The deeper they go, the thicker the silence becomes. Even the rustle of leaves sounds cautious. Mist curls around their legs, faintly glowing where moonlight slips through the canopy. Every shadow looks like it could move at any second.
Kyra kneels suddenly, her tail flicking once as she presses her ear to the mossy ground. "Two… no, three. About fifty meters ahead," she murmurs. "Wind-types. Small, fast."
Bragg gestures subtly with two fingers, and the group halts in unison. Mave shifts his stance, his claymore humming softly with restrained energy, but Kyra raises a hand—wait.
A few heartbeats later, faint ripples of air stir the mist. Three sleek shapes dart through the shadows—wolf-like beasts with translucent fur and glowing blue eyes. They move soundlessly, the wind bending around their bodies like obedient servants.
Kyra's eyes narrow. "They're not attacking… scouting behavior. That's unusual."
