The group led by Katia slipped between the trees like a collective shadow. The air was thick, saturated with the stench of decay and damp earth. The demons lurked further ahead, but their presence betrayed itself through subtle details: a branch snapped too cleanly, a tuft of gray fur caught on the bark, the hoarse whisper of a breath that didn't belong to the forest.
Sokar, perched above, made a quick gesture. Meaning: "Three figures to the right. Motionless."
Katia tilted her head in acknowledgment.
She froze, listening: a scrape. A muffled growl. Then—
Laughter.
Hyena laughter.
Gurgling, hysterical, echoing among the trunks.
"The scavengers."