Aryan followed the two Silverleaf Rangers through the deepening gloom, a silent shadow trailing in their wake. Dev walked a few paces behind him, a constant, menacing presence at his back, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his short sword. Leila led the way, moving through the treacherous terrain with an effortless, predatory grace, her bow held loosely in her hand.
The journey was short, no more than fifteen minutes, but to Aryan, it was a masterclass in woodcraft. Leila did not follow any discernible path. She moved from shadow to shadow, her feet never snapping a twig, her shoulders never brushing against a low-hanging, noisy branch. She navigated by instinct and an intimate knowledge of the forest's contours, a knowledge that Aryan's maps and encyclopedias could never provide. He committed her route to memory, noting the subtle landmarks she used—a strangely shaped root, a patch of luminous moss, a tree struck by lightning years ago. Every step was a lesson.
Their camp was a testament to their professionalism. It was not in a clearing or a cave, which would be obvious. It was nestled in the heart of a dense thicket of iron-barked saplings, a location that was naturally defensible and offered excellent concealment. They had not built a large fire. Instead, a small, fist-sized spirit stone, engraved with a heat-generating rune, sat in a shallow pit. It gave off a steady, smokeless warmth and a dull red glow that was barely visible from more than a few meters away.
Two small, dark green bedrolls were laid out neatly on one side of the pit. A well-maintained alchemy kit sat beside them, along with a few sealed pouches of what Aryan presumed were rations. There were no signs of waste, no discarded food scraps, no unnecessary clutter. It was the camp of people who lived in the wilderness, not just visited it.
Leila dropped the Shadow Cat's pelt and core next to the alchemy kit. She turned to Aryan, her jade eyes catching the faint red glow from the heat stone. "Sit," she commanded, gesturing to a spot on the opposite side of the pit.
Aryan complied without a word, lowering himself into a cross-legged position. He chose a spot with his back to the dense thicket, a position that was tactically sound, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Leila. Dev remained standing, a silent, hostile guard.
Leila began to work with a practiced efficiency. She took out a small, sharp skinning knife and began to meticulously prepare the Shadow Cat's pelt, her movements swift and precise. As she worked, she spoke, her voice a low, conversational tone that was at odds with her sharp gaze.
"The pelt of a 7th Layer Shadow Cat is worth forty gold coins in Silverstream City," she said, not looking at him. "Its core can be sold to an alchemist for another twenty. The claws and fangs, if properly extracted, can fetch ten more. A profitable hunt."
Aryan recognized the tactic. She was providing information, trying to gauge his reaction, to see if greed or envy would flicker in his eyes. He remained impassive. "A good haul," he replied, his voice neutral.
"For a professional, yes," she continued, her knife making a soft scraping sound against the hide. "For a student preparing for an exam, it would be a life-changing fortune. Enough to buy high-grade pills, better weapons, a new set of armor. A prize you seem utterly indifferent to." She paused, her eyes locking onto his, waiting for him to fill the silence.