Morning came ash-gray, heavy with smoke from the burned bodies. No one spoke as the ashes of Sarin and the others drifted into the wind, mixing with the soil of the wild.
Kael stood apart, Sarin's bloodied knife still tied to his belt.
The ground was stained, and so were they.
Liri silently handed out wraps and water, her limp worse today, but her hands steady. One of the younger boys she had helped, Tev, followed her like a shadow now, eyes still swollen from crying.
Dralen leaned against a log, arms crossed, face unreadable. But his eyes flicked toward the commoners often—blame quietly building.
The camp leader, a stern hunter named Jorra, addressed the gathered group. His armor was dented, his blade still stained. "Today, we move forward," he said. "We honor the dead by surviving."
A noble girl named Reva, dressed in high-quality cloth armor, whispered to her companion, "Honor? They died because they were too slow."
Kael heard her.
So did Liri, who stood and snapped, "They died saving others. That's worth more than your boots, Reva."
Reva recoiled slightly, but didn't respond. Instead, her companion—a tall, lean boy with red runes along his sleeves—stepped forward. "It's true though. We can't slow down for everyone."
Tension rose like heat from a forge.
Jorra intervened. "Enough. Blaming each other won't feed you. Won't stop claws."
He turned toward the firepit. "These ashes are the only graves this forest gives. So remember their names—and walk like they did. Eyes forward. Head low."
The group dispersed.
Kael remained seated, eyes on the smoke. "You died for someone you didn't even know," he muttered. "What do I do with that, Sarin?"
The wind didn't answer.
Later, a group of students quietly took Sarin's bag—what little remained of it—and shared what was inside. A piece of dried meat, a small wooden carving of a flower, and a half-broken crystal vial. Tev clutched the flower like it was sacred.
Nearby, one of the hunters was speaking softly to another.
"Three hunters down now."
"Mm. Two to beasts. One… burned saving a brat."
"Still more alive than I expected."
"Barely."
They didn't know Kael was listening.
As the camp packed up to move, Kael noticed one of the noble students sneering at a dead boy's bag. "No one's claimed it. I will. Better I use it than leave it for the beasts."
He wasn't alone. Several students had quietly begun doing the same. Taking what they could. Gold. Weapons. Rings.
Kael looked at Sarin's old sash. He didn't feel guilt.
He felt something harder.
Resolve.
As they marched, he didn't trail behind anymore.
He walked in the middle, near the younger ones.
When Tev stumbled, Kael held his arm.
When a beast's howl echoed from afar, Kael gripped his blade.
That night, the trees seemed to whisper of things yet to come. Of how much more would burn.
And who would still be standing after it.