Val's breath hitched as the baby wriggled, desperate to burrow deeper beneath his tunic. Tiny claws scratched feebly at the coarse fabric. A soft, frightened whimper pressed against his chest.
He tightened his grip, blood roaring loudly in his veins. The presence was closer now—no longer just a shadow in the trees but something watching, waiting, calculating. It was patient, intelligent. Not a beast, nor an ordinary predator.
So why couldn't he tell what exactly it was?!
Val's eyes darted through the dimness beyond the firelight, scanning gnarled trunks and skeletal branches. The silence wasn't natural—no rustling leaves, no chirps or croaks—just a heavy, pressing stillness, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
A sliver of movement caught his eye, a ripple in the darkness, fluid and almost too quick to see if he wasn't a dragon.
