The forest was silent… oppressively silent. Even the faintest breeze had abandoned the trees, as if the heavens themselves held their breath. Only one sound remained scratches across soil, faint echoes of claws dragging over earth.
Veythor's crimson red eyes narrowed. His gaze swept across the ground, where scattered leaves bore witness to a struggle. Each mark was a whisper of Shimi's fate.
"The trail is fresh," he muttered... his voice was calm, but his eyes gleamed with predatory sharpness. "They didn't get far."
Raika clenched his fists his knuckles whitened and trembling. His jaw quivered as though words were fighting to escape.
"Then what are we waiting for?! Let's go!" His shout shattered the silence, touch of recklessness.
Veythor's head turned slowly, his eyes cold as winter. "And rush straight into their fangs? The pack is clever... they want us desperate, running blindly into their trap. Even now… they'll be watching and Waiting."
