Dawn broke in pale gold light. The hunters doused their camp and moved on, following a narrow trail deeper into the forbidden forest. The trees thickened, their roots like coiled serpents across the path. Strange calls echoed in the distance.
Talon trailed them, unhurried, hands in his sleeves, still half‑asleep. But his ears caught every word.
"There," the leader whispered, pointing. "See that ridge? Cave's just beyond."
Even from a distance, Talon could smell it—the faint, rich musk of something alive and powerful. His stomach growled again. He licked his lips lazily.
The hunters began to creep, crouching low, weapons ready. Sweat glistened on their brows. The air near the cave was unnaturally still, as if the forest itself feared what lived there.
Talon stopped just outside the treeline. He swayed on his feet, taking another long pull from his gourd. His eyes half‑closed, and for a moment it looked as though he might lie down right there and nap.
Then his mouth curved into a slow, hungry grin.
"Delicious meat, huh…? Guess I'll take a look."
And, humming softly to himself, Talon stepped after them into the shadow of the cave.