Shapes moved just beyond the tree line—quick, hard to track, slipping between the shadows with sharp bursts of motion that always vanished the moment you looked too long.
They weren't like the lions from earlier. These were smaller, but faster. Lighter. The kind of creatures that didn't make a sound when they moved, but you felt them watching.
Soft paws padded over roots and leaves without breaking a single twig. Pairs of glowing eyes blinked from bushes, and the underbrush shifted every few steps.
Whatever was following them, it wasn't attacking. Not yet. It was observing. Testing.
Ethan didn't have to say it aloud—he knew what this was.
The forest had its own rhythm—a way of judging things.
It didn't just throw beasts at you.
It studied you first.
And right now, he, Mei, and Sera were being watched—not by a predator in a rush but by something patient, something trying to decide if it was worth the risk.
