The Death Forest was unnervingly silent. The only sound breaking through the mist was Andrew's ragged breathing, heavy and uneven.
David frowned, stepping closer. He placed a hand on Andrew's shoulder.
"You okay? Want to rest for a bit?"
Andrew turned slightly, his face pale under the moonlight. He shook his head quickly.
"I'm fine. We need to keep moving. I'm… worried about everyone."
He didn't want to talk about it further, so he changed the subject.
"How's the situation in Bork, Lulu?"
"Uh, stable for now," Lulu replied, her tone short and focused.
"The Wolves are helping us. All the scavengers have been cleared out."
Andrew blinked, surprised. "The Wolves? You mean the Draemir?"
"Yeah."
"Why the hell are they here? Their territory's far south—"
Before he could finish, he doubled over, coughing violently. The sound tore through the still forest: raw, wet, and painful, like his lungs were being shredded from the inside.
"Hey, you're not fine at all."
