[If opportunity doesn’t come…]

Too even.

Too deep.

Fresh.

Kael crouched lower, fingers brushing the edge of the print again. The dirt told a story—and it wasn't wearing boots.

"…No shoes," he muttered.

Yue hovered beside him, peering down.

"Maybe someone who survived your little massacre last night" 

Kael nodded faintly.

"Maybe."

But even as he said it, something in his gut twisted.

He didn't like the shape of the print.

Too delicate. Too soft.

Yue glanced down the path of indentations.

"Should we follow it?"

She turned to Kael.

He was already gone.

She blinked, annoyed.

"Of course."

Kael moved silently now, steps light, body low. He didn't know if he was heading toward a friend or a threat.

All he knew was that the forest had grown quieter. The wind carried faint voices—too faint to catch.

But enough to make his spine stiffen.