The Drunk Strict Knight

The forest was alive with the quiet hum of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves, creating an eerie yet serene backdrop. Mikhailis and Cerys moved cautiously, their footsteps muffled against the damp earth as they tried to slip away unseen. Each step felt like a gamble, the tension between them palpable as they crept further from the clearing. Mikhailis's sharp eyes darted toward every shadow, his mind calculating their next move while he fought the growing unease in his chest.

We just need to get past this stretch, he thought, his grip tightening on Cerys's arm as he guided her around a protruding root. Her steady breathing beside him was the only reassurance amidst the suffocating silence.

Then it happened.