Kael's brooding thoughts were cut short by the unwelcome voice slicing through the silence like a blunt blade.
"Well now," the tall teenager said, swaggering a few steps closer to the riverbank, "since you're clearly wasting your time, Saria, why not join us instead? Real hunters could use some proper company."
His tone was oily with mock charm, loud enough for his friends to hear and smirk at. The others behind him shifted their gear indifferently, already bored with the exchange, but still lingering like vultures circling for scraps.
Saria didn't flinch. Her arms crossed and her glare sharpened into daggers. "You couldn't catch a rabbit with a map and a net," she snapped. "No thanks."
The tall boy's grin faltered for a second before he forced a scoff, shrugging his shoulders. "Suit yourself. Don't say I didn't offer you the better company."
Without another word, he turned and led his band into the trees. The sound of boots on underbrush faded quickly, leaving behind only the rustling leaves and Kael's silence.
Kael pushed himself to his feet, brushing dirt from his trousers. A faint wry smile curved his lips—half amusement, half... something colder. His eyes followed the trail the hunting group had taken.
Saria blinked. "Where are you going?"
Kael rolled his neck lazily and stretched, still looking off into the trees. "To follow them."
Saria blinked again, stepping in front of him. "You're what? Why? After that?"
He turned to her, his expression unreadable, but his grin was boyish and taunting. "Do you have anything better to do?"
She hesitated. It wasn't the question that threw her—it was the fire behind it, subtle but unmistakable. That gleam in his eyes... she'd seen it before. Not during fights, not even during arguments—but in moments like this, when Kael moved without telling anyone what he really intended.
"Kael..." she began, but he was already walking, boots pressing soft imprints into the riverbank mud.
After a beat, she cursed under her breath and followed.
---
The sun was bleeding into the horizon, streaking the canopy above in hues of rust and amber as Kael moved like a shadow through the underbrush. Dry leaves crunched softly beneath his boots, his steps practiced, precise—almost predatory. Behind him, Saria crept with far less certainty, her eyes flicking nervously from tree to tree.
"Kael," she whispered, tugging gently at the edge of his cloak. "It's getting dark. We should head back..."
He didn't reply. His eyes were locked ahead, fixed on the dim shapes of the hunting party still visible in the distance—laughter drifting back to them, sharp and grating in the still air.
The tall teenager's voice rose above the others, cracking some crude joke about a wild boar and a girl's backside. The group erupted into laughter, loud and unrestrained.
Kael shook his head. Idiots, he thought. If any creature with a pulse was within five hundred strides of them, it was already long gone.
"Do they even know how to hunt?" he muttered.
Saria frowned, whispering just behind him. "You sure you don't want to turn back? You've already seen them acting like fools—what more do you need?"
Kael didn't answer. He didn't have to. His silence was response enough. He crouched behind a fallen tree, peering between the moss-covered branches.
He wasn't here for the thrill of the chase. Truth was, he couldn't hunt to save his life. The only time he'd ever tried was nine years ago—eight years old and too eager to prove himself. His stepfather had taken him into the woods and tripped on a gnarled root. The bone had snapped with a sound Kael never forgot. The man had cursed him for the rest of that day as they hobbled home.
Kael never set foot on another hunt after that. And no one asked him to.
He didn't need a spear to hurt something anyway.
Saria edged closer, so close he could feel her breath. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her cloak, eyes scanning the forest like she expected wolves to leap from the shadows at any second.
Kael's smirk returned, subtle and cold. Let them wander in circles, he thought. Let them shout and laugh and scare everything off. They'll come back with nothing but empty sacks and excuses.
What he really wanted was to see them fail. To watch their bravado crumble when the forest didn't play along.
He leaned in, eyes narrowing as the group came to a halt up ahead. The tall teenager raised a hand—whether to signal or just pose dramatically, Kael couldn't tell.
Beside him, Saria whispered again. "We're not really going to follow them all night, are we?"
Kael didn't look at her.
"Depends," he muttered. "On whether they find something worth watching… or something that finds them first."
---
The last rays of sunlight bled away behind a curtain of darkening clouds, plunging the forest into an eerie gloom. Twisted tree limbs clawed at the fading light above like skeletal fingers. The air had grown still—unnaturally still—as though the forest itself were holding its breath.
Kael crouched low behind a thick hedge of brambles, his eyes sharp as ever, watching the group of teenagers a few dozen strides ahead. Their movements had grown less confident, less coordinated. One boy tripped over a root, letting out a curse. Another slapped at the buzzing of gnats with jerky, twitchy hands. The laughter from earlier had died.
Behind Kael, Saria was no longer just anxious—she was afraid. He could hear it in her voice, low and urgent.
"Kael... please," she whispered, gripping the edge of his sleeve. "Let's go back. It's already dark. We shouldn't be this far in."
He didn't answer right away. His eyes flicked back to hers. There was real fear there—wide eyes darting from shadow to shadow.
"You don't know what's out here," she added, more to herself than to him. "They say beasts live in these woods… ones that walk like men but tear you apart like wolves. A whole patrol disappeared last year. They found only bones. Bones, Kael."
Kael snorted. "If you don't see it, it's not real."
"That's not how it works—"
"That's exactly how it works," he said flatly. "Stories are just fears wearing costumes."
In the distance, a faint clatter of voices rose again. The hunting group had stopped moving. Kael saw them cluster around the tall teenager, their expressions etched with unease.
One of the smaller boys spoke up, his voice cracking, "Hey, maybe we should turn back. It's too dark. We can't see anything."
Another nodded quickly. "Yeah, we can come back tomorrow. At least then we won't get eaten by shadows."
The tall teenager, clearly irritated, pulled off his hunting bag and began rummaging inside. "Cowards," he muttered, loud enough for all to hear. "This is the perfect time to hunt. The animals are slower. Blinder. And we? We've got fire."
He pulled out a bundle of short wooden sticks—wrapped in pitch-drenched cloth at one end—and began handing them out with a mock-heroic flair. "Here," he said, pressing one into a hesitant hand. "Torchlight's a hunter's best friend."
Some of the group hesitated. Others took the sticks without a word. The tall boy grinned wide as they fumbled with flint and tinder, sparks crackling until the first flames caught and flickered to life.
The little orbs of fire danced in the darkness—fragile things trying to push back a forest that now felt alive with watching eyes.
Kael's gaze lingered on the scene, then drifted upward into the trees, to the shadows that moved with just a bit too much weight, too much deliberation. He said nothing.
Beside him, Saria swallowed hard, her fingers clutching the strap of her satchel like a lifeline.
"This isn't bravery," she whispered. "This is stupid."
Kael didn't disagree. But stupid things often led to interesting outcomes. And somewhere deep inside, a part of him hoped the forest did answer back.