The clearing was too quiet.
No wind stirred the branches overhead. No birds sang. Even the usual chorus of insects had gone silent, as if the forest were holding its breath.
Kaelen sat on a fallen log, scraping the acidic sap from his shoulder with the tip of his dagger. Every scrape released a faint, sharp smell, like burnt copper. His skin throbbed beneath the torn cloth.
Elyra was pacing. She hadn't stopped moving since they'd stumbled in.
Lior crouched by the rescued girl—Marra, she'd said her name was—checking her for wounds. "You're lucky," he muttered. "Forest lures usually don't leave anything to find."
Marra didn't look lucky. Her eyes kept darting toward the tree line, wide and shining with a fear that seemed permanent.
Sylvi crouched beside Kaelen, speaking low. "We shouldn't stay long. If what she says is true, it knows our scent. It will try again."
Elyra stopped pacing. "Try again? It nearly crushed us in there."
Marra's voice was small but steady. "It didn't try yet. That was a taste. The forest's heart… it doesn't move all at once. But now that you've crossed its edge, it will want you back inside."
Kaelen's gut clenched. "You're saying it can follow us?"
She nodded once. "Not fast. Not like a man chasing prey. It will just… be there the next time you rest. Until you stop running."
The silence stretched.
Finally, Lior said, "Then we keep moving."
But no one stood. The forest's shadow pressed in on all sides, and Kaelen could almost feel something out there—patient, calculating, waiting for them to tire.
Somewhere deep in the woods, a single branch cracked.
They all froze.