Fin landed lightly on another branch, his boots barely making a sound. For the last hour, he'd been moving through this section of twisted forest, deliberately making himself an obvious target.
He vaulted from tree to gnarled outcrop, doubled back on his path, paused in open clearings – anything to draw out the watcher he knew was there.
But whoever, or whatever, it was, remained hidden. The feeling of being observed was constant, prickling the back of his neck, amplified by his heightened senses. Yet, no attack came. No sound betrayed the stalker's position. Just that unwavering focus fixed on him.
He paused again, crouched low on a wide branch, scanning the shadows below. Nothing moved. The air was still, heavy with the dungeon's dangerous atmosphere and the cloying scent of the terrain.
This was getting ridiculous. He was wasting time playing hide-and-seek when his team was trapped somewhere behind him, relying on him to find a way out.
His patience snapped.
