Before closing the morgue door, Kael took one last look at the bodies. His eyes lingered on Juno's lifeless form. He lay slightly apart from the others — perhaps not in reality, but in Kael's eyes he did. He was covered, but his shape was visible. No longer a person, just a silent memory; like a small, narrow, and quiet statue.
Sera sat silently at the table outside. She had copied Kael's notes onto the papers given by the morgue attendant Teyna Arval. When she looked at Kael, she said nothing, only wearing a helpless expression on her face.
Kael gestured outside with his head; it meant "let's go." He shouldered his bag beside the table. He wanted fresh air. The smell of death had penetrated deep into his nostrils.
"Are we going back to camp?" Sera asked.
"Too early to return. Let's walk around for a while."
Sera hesitated, but then nodded slightly. Kael took the closed notebook from the table and put it in his inner jacket pocket.
They quietly left through the morgue's back exit. They walked toward the inner parts of Flamepeak, into its stone streets that looked old but were young. The city seemed unwilling to share in his mourning...
The unintelligible murmur of people, children's play sounds, the distant echoing of hammers ceaselessly striking iron, the intertwining shouts of market vendors in the midday sun, the creaking of cart wheels resonating in narrow streets... Life in Flamepeak continued as usual.
The narrow paths opened into a square. In the center of the square rose a stone pedestal, atop which stood a statue of a man with one fist raised to the sky and a long rifle in his other hand. Time had erased the details of the statue's face. People no longer remembered who he was — only his determined stance remained. Perhaps a savior, perhaps a rebel, perhaps a hero.
Kael approached. The metal plaque at the base of the pedestal had been removed, leaving only a few rusty screws in place.
"I don't know who he was," Kael said softly. "But once, someone must have thought him worth remembering."
Sera stood beside Kael, facing the statue. "The Hero... No one knows his real identity. They found him when they discovered the ruins of Flamepeak. The people embraced him, they still cherish him even today."
Kael fell into thought. "We've forgotten this too. We forget everything, Juno. Soon they'll forget you too — maybe in two days. Maybe I'm the only one who remembers you now." He stood before the statue a while longer. Then he took out his notebook and opened a new page. He wrote a single sentence:
"A forgotten hero, an unforgettable friend."
When they left the quiet square, the sun briefly showed itself through the clouds. They headed to the lower parts of Flamepeak, to the market set up in the shadow of old stone arches. This place seemed like a gathering spot for people trying to escape the reality of their situation. Wooden stalls displayed dried roots, hunt animal hides and bones, rusty metal pieces, fabric remnants.
A child was carrying an animal hide larger than himself, wearing an old helmet too big for his head. Women were smelling plants placed on fabrics, an old man was examining an iron wheel.
Amid the market's noise, Kael, unable to silence what was inside him, began to speak:
"No one here even cares about what's happening in the upper parts of the city," said Kael, scanning the crowd around him. "Everyone's just trying to survive the day." He turned to Sera. "Why did you become a scout?"
Sera was walking a few steps behind him. Kael saw dried red fruits at a stall. He remembered the jam his mother used to make with these fruits. He hesitated for a moment but then continued.
"I want to be a Table officer. Maybe a guard, or if possible, an administrative officer. Without connections inside, five years of scouting experience is required."
"You started two weeks ago, didn't you? Will you be able to continue?"
"I'd heard about scouts dying before, but seeing it... that's different. Still, I won't give up." She remained silent for a while. "How many years have you been a scout?"
"My ninth year."
Sera's eyes widened. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-five. I've been a scout since I was sixteen."
"How could you become a scout at that age? I thought you couldn't be a scout before twenty."
"An exception was made."
From Kael's tone, Sera understood she shouldn't ask any more questions. She continued following silently. The thought of camp made her chest tighten. She wasn't ready yet.
"Look at our situation!" a voice rose from the market. A middle-aged man with a long beard was shouting angrily. "The value of that fabric isn't worth two cups of linden tea. If I trade these linden flowers with you, I couldn't even buy three loaves of bread with the fabric you're giving!"
Kael's gaze drifted far away. A pained expression appeared on his face.
When they left the market, the streets were full of people. Sera noticed the change in Kael's face. "What are you thinking about?"
Kael didn't answer for a while. Then he began speaking in a low voice: "Sometimes I think... Even without the Gavahrs, we're eating each other alive. Everyone's only looking out for themselves. Yet we're all in the same boat."
"What do you mean?"
Kael took a deep breath. "My brother was nine years old. He made a bet with his friends, stole bread from the market. Three men..." he stopped, swallowed. "They strangled him right there. No one intervened. Since that day, I've wondered: Why do we treat each other like this? Can't we find a reason for people not to kill each other?"
Sera remained silent for a long time. "I'm so sorry," was all she could say. "My father used to say people will always find another reason..."
Kael nodded. "You're right. Just empty dreams." He paused. "Anyway, we've lingered too long. Let's return to camp."
Both walked silently, lost in their own thoughts, all the way. From the merchants' noise to the woodcutters' axe sounds, then mixing with the windy rustling of forest trees and bushes, they arrived at the northern camp. As they approached the camp area, Kael didn't forget to whistle. They had seen Branton standing with his rifle in the scout tower.
When Branton heard Kael's whistle, he turned his head and looked down. Then he slung his rifle over his shoulder and pressed a button; the wooden gate beside the tower descended with a heavy creak. When Kael and Sera entered, Branton gave a low greeting. Leaning down from the top of the tower toward Kael, he said, "The Commander was waiting for you. In her tent."
Kael nodded. Sera glanced at Branton, then turned to Kael. "I'll stop by the warehouse, I need to do inventory."
After Sera left, Kael headed toward the inner parts of the camp. He walked toward the large tent set up in the center of the camp. The wind had grown stronger, the coolness from the forest enveloped the camp with a sharp dampness.
"Commander!" Kael called out in front of the tent. Upon hearing the word "come" from inside, he parted the tent canvas. Inside, he saw Iren bent over a map table. There was no one else with her.
Commander Iren's tent was larger than the others but not ostentatious. There was no flag or seal in front of or inside it. The tent was furnished with minimal items - a large map table in the center, a simple bed in the corner, several chests, and weapons hanging on the wall. A thick rug on the floor, an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling illuminated the inside of the tent.
When Iren noticed Kael, she raised her eyes. They made eye contact with a dull and tired expression. "You came."
Kael slowly nodded.
Iren straightened the map. On it were arrows drawn from the north, areas marked with small stones, and regions circled in red. "Thanks to your observations last week, I believe we've discovered the area where the gavahrs are foraging. You have good instincts, that's why I want your opinion," she said and gestured for Kael to come to the head of the table. Iren silently bowed her head and adjusted the stones on the map. Then she turned to Kael. "Take out your notes," she said curtly. "I hope you've written down even the smallest detail."
Kael hesitated for a moment. He reached for the notebook in his pocket and opened it. His fingers moved through the blood-stained pages, and his expression grew increasingly troubled. Some pages showed plant clusters marked with shaky drawings, while short notes caught the eye in places: "Tracks circular—not regular. 5-6 different directions." — "Fresh gouges in tree bark. They might have returned." — "Broken branches, but they haven't touched the ground. Light ones."
Kael took a step back and drew a deep breath. His fingertips still gripped the edge of the notebook, but his mind had already returned to the past, to his silent steps in the forest.
The northern region on the map was separated by thick lines. Advance routes were marked with arrows, observation points with small circles. But in Kael's eyes, the map suddenly came alive—leaves trembling in the wind, claw marks buried in mud, bird songs suddenly falling silent.
"At the end of last year, when the spring snow began to melt, we went on reconnaissance to Sharkent Valley," he said suddenly, his voice thoughtful though he knew he was addressing the only person in the room. "The tracks were scattered then too, making it hard to plot a route. But they kept circling back to the same point. We later realized they had a temporary nest in the old stone depression by the stream. There were no traces of food or fire—just their tracks, drawn there like a pattern."
Iren, her arm resting on the table, listened to him silently.
Kael moved closer to the map. "I'm seeing a similar pattern this time. But the tracks are more distorted—either deliberately mixed up or intertwined due to their numbers. Behaviors repeat in some areas. This suggests two possibilities to me: Either they're unconsciously repeating certain things, or they want us to think so." His finger roamed over the map. "There, on the western slope of Shadow Hill, branches are bent upward—as if the passage is outward, not inward. I saw the same thing in the north, at the border of Old Bor Grove. You can't draw a straight line between these areas. But..."
He paused for a moment. He closed his eyes, retracing his steps in his mind. A rainy afternoon, grass up to his knees, suddenly silenced bird song. Yes. Silence. A striking silence.
"Three days ago... there was silence in Redstone Valley. No birds, barely even insect sounds. The ground was damp but no tracks in the mud. The life there was afraid, but it was like a suppressed fear. They were waiting for something."
Iren's eyes narrowed slightly.
Kael lifted his head and looked directly at them. "If it were me, I'd go to the Mourning Pit," he said, pressing his finger on the spot on the map. "This place sits right between three gathering points. The soil around it is loose, the ground is low — perfect for digging. The trees surrounding it are ancient, their branches intertwined. It's impossible to see from above. And it's quiet. Nature has withdrawn itself."
"There's no clear trace, but what you're doing is purely instinct-based guesswork, isn't it?" said Iren, her voice measured.
"Yes. But there are signs of return," said Kael. "Tree bark was stripped along the way, but none of it was on the ground. I think the gavahrs deliberately took these barks, as if leaving markers. We'd only seen this behavior before in the area where we thought they were foraging."
Iren bowed her head and looked at the map. "Are you saying they're making this their foraging center?"
Kael thought for a moment. "Either the center or an entry point. They're drawing food from somewhere but not gathering there. They seem to not want to contaminate that area. This could be where they store it. Maybe it's an exchange point. But something's happening here."
The silence lasted for several heartbeats. The oil lamp swayed slightly on its ceiling rope, moving the shadows.
Then Iren slowly straightened up. "I agree with you. This isn't a place to be ignored. Tomorrow morning, at first light, we'll send a team there."
Kael felt relieved inside but didn't show it. "Let me lead," he said. "I know the terrain."
Iren studied him. "You've shown such eagerness before, but why this time?"
Kael thought for a moment. "Because... if they're there, I need to be the first to see it."
Iren nodded. "So be it. But you won't go alone. Move with a group of four of your choosing. In silence. If what you're saying is true, there will be eyes watching you."