Ivor kept his distance as he followed the new group.
These ones moved differently from the boys he had seen earlier. Their steps were measured, their spacing deliberate. There was no unnecessary chatter and no wasted motion. Even from afar, they felt more serious and better trained.
The longer he shadowed them through the thick trees, the more a quiet excitement crept in.
He wanted to know how strong they were. How they moved. How they fought. Part of him wanted to place himself beside them, measure the gap between them and himself.
Unaware of it, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
He moved carefully, placing each step with intent, trusting his heightened hearing and sense of smell more than his sight. He adjusted his pace whenever the forest shifted, whenever branches cracked or leaves stirred ahead.
After a while, the group slowed and came to a stop.
Ivor frowned slightly.
Only then did he realize something was off. They hadn't moved deeper into the forest at all. Instead, their path had stayed level, skirting the Wild Layer rather than pressing inward.
They were avoiding depth.
The reason came to him easily. Even within the Wild Layer, danger increased the farther one went.
These people weren't hunting blindly.
They were choosing their ground.
And that made Ivor even more curious.
"How many crystals did we take?" the tallest boy asked as he slid his dagger back into its sheath.
To Ivor, he looked like the strongest of the group. The others unconsciously oriented toward him as he spoke.
"Three," the boy with the pouch replied after checking inside. He pulled the drawstring closed and looked up. "That makes eight in total."
The tall boy nodded slowly, thinking it over. "I think that should be enough for today. If we split them, we can have two each. We should stay here for the night, absorb them properly, and move again early tomorrow."
One of the boys exhaled in relief and rolled his shoulder. "That sounds good. That jump from the tree earlier twisted something. I can still move, but I'd rather not push it."
Another boy gave a short nod. "Yeah. No point rushing when we're already ahead."
The boy with the pouch loosened the drawstring again and passed the crystals out, placing two into each waiting hand. The faint glow reflected across their faces for a moment before being tucked away.
The pressure behind Ivor's eyes stirred again as his gaze brushed over the crystals, but he forced himself to ignore it and remained hidden.
One by one, the boys moved. Each chose a different tree, climbed with ease, and settled onto the branches to rest. None of them stayed on the ground.
Only then did Ivor allow himself to ease slightly.
Slowly, carefully, he slipped the bone sword from his back and leaned it against the trunk of the tree he was hiding behind. He lowered his bag next, setting it down without a sound. As the weight left his shoulders, he released a quiet breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His thin frame, already strained by injury, finally had a moment to rest.
He checked his wounds again. The bindings were soaked but no longer bleeding. That would have to be enough.
Ivor crouched lower behind the tree and tilted his head up briefly. The sky above the canopy had begun to dull, the light thinning toward gray. Another hour, maybe less, and night would settle in.
His attention shifted back to the group.
His eyes locked onto one boy in particular, the one who moved a fraction slower than the others, who climbed with more effort, who now sat stiffly on his branch. The weakest. If there was one.
Thoughts began turning quietly in his mind.
There were eight crystals among them and he wanted crystal too.
They were hunting.
And he wanted to hunt too.
Carefully, he slipped his boots off and set them aside. Then he reached up and untied the bun at the back of his head, letting his hair fall loose around his face and nape. It felt lighter that way. Less restrained.
He pulled off his shirt next.
With the dagger, he cut a long strip of cloth from the back, careful not to tear it unevenly. He wrapped it around the lower half of his face, knotting it tight behind his head to hide his features for as long as possible.
Then he cut three more pieces.
These ones he sliced thinner and longer, rolling them into a tight strip before tucking them into his belt within easy reach.
Barefoot. Shirtless. Only his pants and the dagger left.
Ivor stayed still after that, crouched behind the tree, counting the seconds by his breathing. He watched the boys above, listening for any change in rhythm, any sign that they had begun absorbing the crystals.
He hoped they wouldn't yet.
Absorbing mana took time. Focus. Stillness.
And while they were still resting, relaxed, convinced they were safe, he had a chance.
Time stretched on, and eventually the forest sank into darkness. The change was subtle. There were no chirping insects, no distant calls of beasts or birds. Ivor realized he hadn't heard any of those sounds since entering the Scar. The only noises were the wind moving through leaves and the slow, steady breathing of the kids resting in the trees.
The pressure behind his eyes churned without pause now. He had been holding it back for more than an hour. It felt like a coiled thing, waiting.
Finally, he decided he was ready.
Ivor moved first to the bone sword, lifting it carefully and carrying it a short distance away. He placed it behind another tree, hidden and within reach if he needed it later. Then, dagger in hand, he slipped toward the tree where the weakest boy rested.
He paused at the base and took a slow, quiet breath.
The dagger went between his teeth.
Barefoot, he began to climb.
He relied on finger strength alone, gripping bark and shallow grooves, his movements smooth and controlled despite the ache in his limbs. He scaled the trunk quickly and reached the branch where the boy lay.