Dawn bled pale light through the canopy. It painted their new terrace in shades of grey and green. They ate their first true meal in the World Above the Scar. Thick strips of the Silent Hoof, seared over embers. The rich, dark meat finally quieted the constant hunger in their bellies.
Othniel's promise from the night before hung between them. The tales of the Old Walls. A mystery for another time.
"The stories of the past will keep until the sun falls," Othniel said, his voice rough with sleep. He watched Xeno eat. He saw the boy's frame settle, the sharp edges of hunger softening.
He grows into his strength, Othniel thought. A familiar mix of pride and sorrow tightened his chest. He should be learning the final knots for the summer nets. Not how to survive in a land that wants him dead.
"Today belongs to the present," he continued. "We must learn the heartbeat of this land. Or we will never hear the one that means to stop our own."
Xeno understood. A full stomach was a shield. But ignorance was a door left open to any predator.
They left the safety of the spring behind. They moved into the unknown green. Othniel was a ghost ahead, his lean frame pausing not just at threats, but at opportunities.
A low, guttural croak came from a hidden pool. Othniel halted, his hand signaling a wide berth.
The Deep-Croaker, he identified silently. Its venom won't kill a man our size. But the swelling will blind you for a day. More than enough time for something else to finish the job.
A patch of Mountain Berry bushes earned a grunt of approval. The fruit was still hard and green. He pointed to a stand of young, straight Hollow Reed.
"Good shafts lie there," he murmured. The hunter in him was already planning for the seasons to come. His mind built a map of resources where before there was only danger.
Xeno followed. His dense body was a constant negotiation with the terrain. His mind, sharpened by his father's lessons, read the story of the forest.
He noted where the soft earth would hold a track. Where the thick canopy offered a hidden path. Where a beast might wait in ambush.
The land speaks, he thought, remembering his father's words. I am learning to listen.
For over an hour, they moved in this practiced silence. A father and son weaving a web of knowledge around their new home. Othniel felt a grim satisfaction.
He learns fast. He sees the patterns. He might just...
He cut the thought off. Hope was a dangerous luxury.
It happened in a small clearing. A place where light fell in broken coins upon the moss. The forest's endless whisper was cut by a blade of silence.
One moment, there was the drone of life.
The next, a shadow bloomed from between the roots of two colossal Stone Bark trees.
A Shadow Cat.
It was a sculpture of living night. Larger and more densely muscled than any creature Xeno had ever seen. Its shoulders were a landscape of coiled power. Its pelt was a void that swallowed the light.
It moved with a silence so profound it felt like a theft from the world. Each step was a breath upon the moss. It was unaware of them. Its great head was lowered to a scent trail. A low, resonant growl hummed in its chest like distant thunder.
Xeno froze. Not from Othniel's command, which came as a mere tightening of the air. But from sheer, overwhelming awe.
He was close enough to see the ripple of individual sinew. The terrifying thickness of its neck. The primal intelligence in its lowered gaze.
This was not prey.
This was a king in its own domain.
Othniel's own breath stilled in his lungs. His hand didn't stray to his knife. Against this, it was a toothpick.
Every instinct screamed at him to become stone. To become nothing.
By the forgotten gods, he thought. A cold dread washed through him. It's a mature male. In its prime.
His eyes darted. He calculated the distance to the nearest climbable tree. He knew it was too far.
Their lives hung on the whims of this creature. On the direction of the wind. On a single misplaced sound.
He saw Xeno, rigid and exposed. A fear greater than any he'd felt for himself gripped his heart.
Then, the massive head lifted.
Eyes the color of liquid gold swept across the clearing. They passed over Othniel. Then over Xeno.
For a terrifying, eternal second, Othniel was sure they had been seen. That the beast was merely deciding which of them to take first. He could almost feel the crushing weight of its jaws.
But the gaze held no interest. Only a vast, predatory indifference.
Then, with a contemptuous twitch of its tail, the creature turned. It dissolved back into the forest. The shadows wove shut behind it.
The familiar sounds of the Green Silence rushed back in. But they were hollow now. The true sound was the echo of the silence the cat had left in its wake.
For a full minute, neither of them moved.
Finally, Othniel let out a slow, shuddering breath. He looked at Xeno. He saw the pale shock on his son's face. He gave a single, sharp nod.
It was time to go.
They did not speak until the spring's murmur reached their ears. Until their terrace came into view.
"It has a claim here," Othniel said. His voice was low and flat. The grim finality was its own kind of warning. "This is its land. We are guests who have overstayed."
He met Xeno's eyes. "We will not hunt near that clearing. We will give its paths a wide berth. To challenge it is to die."
Xeno only nodded. The ghost of the golden gaze still burned behind his eyes. The fear was a cold stone in his gut. Familiar and sharp.
But beneath it, something new and dark stirred. A deep, unsettling current.
That night, he lay listening to the forest's rhythm. The image of the Shadow Cat returned to him. Not as a threat. But as a vision of absolute, untamed power.
A thought rose from a place deeper than fear or reason. Formless and hungry.
To be the shadow that makes the forest hold its breath. To be the silence that others fear.
He pushed the thought away. A shiver traced his spine. It was just the shock. The residue of terror.
But the seed had been planted. In the fertile soil of a young man's heart.
The hunt for mere survival was no longer enough.
A new, darker hunger had been born.