Scene 1: Prints in the Silence
Morning light stretched long and thin through the tall, white-capped trees, their trunks like frozen pillars. Frost clung to every branch and root. Somewhere above, birds cried once, then fell silent again. It was a morning that seemed to hold its breath.
Ishan's breath came in misty clouds as he walked ahead of the trainees, eyes sharp and staff in hand. Behind him trudged two dozen small figures in thick cloaks and patchwork scarves, the newest hopefuls of the Sentinel line.
"Today we read the snow," Ishan said, his voice calm but clear. "Claws leave stories. So do hooves, paws, and broken twigs. Don't look at the ground. Look through it."
The trainees spread out a little, stepping lightly over the powder. A boy named Deva knelt beside a broken bush, trying to mimic what Ishan had shown them finger tracing the curve of a print.
"That's deer," Ishan confirmed with a glance, "But old. Three days. No scent."
Mani followed a little behind the group, saying nothing. His eyes flickered along the ground, but more often, they watched the horizon the trees, the ridgelines, the fog that rolled just above the snow like it was alive.
They came across a clearing, its edge lined with crooked birch and a few flat rocks glazed in ice. Ishan raised his hand.
"Stop here. Spread out and sweep. Call out anything strange, but don't touch it."
Children shuffled out, quiet now with a mix of focus and fatigue.
Mani paused near a tree stump dusted with lichen. Then he crouched. Something had pressed into the snow, not heavy, but deliberate. It wasn't paw-shaped. It was long, narrow… more like a bent heel than a hoof.
He traced the edge of it with a fingertip.
Another shape nearby. A matched pair. The snow had sunk deep where the weight fell, as if something had walked upright. Not wide like a human step. Small. Sharp.
He looked up.
There far across the treeline, barely visible through the haze of falling snow something moved. A flick of white fur against the darker tree bark. Then it stopped.
A small figure. Too small for a man, but it stood. On two feet.
He blinked. The shape tilted its head. Watching.
"Mani!"
He turned. Ishan was approaching slowly, noting the way Mani stared ahead, the strange marks at his feet.
"Something wrong?"
Mani opened his mouth, then closed it. He raised a hand, pointing toward the place where the figure had been.
"...Stood," he murmured.
Ishan's brow creased.
"Who?"
Mani shook his head. His finger trembled slightly.
"Small. Fur. White."
Another trainee older boy named Raju had wandered close and overheard.
"Did he just say a hare stood up?" Raju laughed. "What, like on two legs? Maybe it's going to start giving speeches."
Another boy joined in, snorting.
"Yeah, maybe it'll join the Council of Elders!"
Mani said nothing. He lowered his hand slowly.
Ishan's voice came sharp.
"Quiet."
The boys fell silent.
Ishan knelt beside Mani, studied the tracks. They were...strange. Not full prints, but deep heel-like impressions. Not a bounding hare. Something had walked here, more vertical than it should.
He looked up in the same direction Mani had pointed, scanning the trees.
Nothing.
"Good eye," he said quietly.
Mani didn't respond, but something loosened in his shoulders.
"I believe you," Ishan added. "Stay close."
He stood, brushing snow from his glove. Behind them, more children continued scanning the clearing, unaware.
Then a whistle came from the deeper woods short, sharp. A signal.
Ishan turned as Niren strode into the glade from the south, boots crunching clean through the snow, his hunting bow across his back.
"Everything quiet?" the captain asked, voice neutral.
"For now," Ishan said. "But Mani saw something strange."
Niren's gaze flicked toward the small boy, unreadable. "What kind of strange?"
"An Ice Hare," Ishan said. "But walking upright."
Niren was quiet for a long moment, looking toward the trees Mani had pointed at.
"Ice Hares don't stand," he said softly.
"They don't," Ishan agreed.
Mani looked between them, then back at the forest.
Niren walked over to where Mani had crouched earlier, studying the shallow twin imprints. Then he said almost to himself
"Some creatures remember things older than men."
Neither of them spoke after that.
The wind picked up slightly, brushing over the trail. And one by one, the prints began to fade.
—
Scene 2: Through the Pines
Later that day, the group had moved deeper into the woods under Ishan's watchful eyes. Snow was heavier here, clinging to tree trunks like brittle skin. The wind had gone still again, as if waiting.
Most of the trainees had shaken off the earlier unease. Raju and a few others whispered jokes, casting occasional glances at Mani. But Mani didn't seem to hear. His gaze swept the branches. Every sound turned his head, sharp and alert. He wasn't looking at the ground like the others he was listening beyond it.
Ishan had noticed that.
They were halfway through a fallen grove, broken branches forming strange patterns, when Mani paused. His breath hitched. He tilted his head slightly, listening.
Ishan, who had been watching him from behind, slowed his pace.
Mani looked up, then back at Ishan. A faint movement of his hand subtle, brief toward the left ridge.
Without a word, Ishan motioned the rest to stay in place and approached Mani.
"Again?"
Mani nodded once. His voice was little more than breath.
"Closer."
Ishan's eyes narrowed. He scanned the trees left of the trail.
The grove dipped into a narrow cut in the land, forming a hollow. There between the pine trunks a flicker of movement. A figure stood at the far end of the hollow, obscured partially by a dead tree.
Ishan blinked.
It was a hare. Tall for its kind, but standing. Upright. Unmoving.
Snow clung to its fur. Its forelimbs hung strangely limp, but not relaxed. Its head was cocked to one side. As if studying them.
Ishan's pulse slowed. He motioned for the children to back away, silently.
None of them had noticed yet except Mani.
"I see it," Ishan whispered.
Mani didn't blink.
The hare didn't move.
Then without warning it twitched. A sudden, sharp jerk of its head. And it walked.
One step.
Two.
Still upright.
Still watching.
Then it turned and vanished behind the ridge like smoke.
Ishan's body tightened with a chill that had nothing to do with the cold.
"That's not right," he said under his breath.
He looked down at Mani, who hadn't stopped watching the same spot.
"You felt it before we saw it," Ishan said slowly.
Mani didn't respond. But his eyes... they were clear, unwavering. Not frightened. Not surprised.
Just ready.
The trainees behind them were still chatting. They hadn't seen a thing.
Ishan placed a hand on Mani's shoulder—firm, this time, not just comfort, but acknowledgment.
"We don't mention this to the rest. Not yet."
Mani blinked, once.
Then the forest shifted.
A sudden wind kicked through the trees. Branches creaked. Somewhere far off, a howl echoed, faint and strange. It sounded like something being remembered.
Ishan turned to the group.
"We're heading back. Mark the trail. No questions."
There were protests, of course.
"But we just..."
"Now!" Ishan barked.
They obeyed.
As the children began moving out, Ishan glanced back toward the ridge where the hare had stood. The snow was smooth now. No prints.
"Mani," he said quietly as they walked, "if you see it again, or anything like it..."
Mani looked up.
"Tell me. No matter what."
A faint nod.
And the boy fell back into step.
—
Scene 3: Ash on the Wind
The last light of evening bled out across Shitrantar, the clouds smeared orange and ash. Smoke curled from low-roofed chimneys, and the watchtower's shadow stretched long over the snow-draped fields.
On the edge of the woods, just outside the hunting barracks, Ishan leaned against the frost-worn railing. His breath steamed in the cold, arms crossed tight. Behind him, boots crunched.
Niren approached, tossing a stick into the fire pit before joining Ishan at the ledge.
Niren (grinning slightly): "You're quiet. That's new."
Ishan didn't return the smile. His eyes were still on the trees.
Ishan: "Something's off."
Niren's brow rose.
Niren: "Did the cubs bite back?"
Ishan shook his head slowly.
Ishan: "No… worse. Stranger."
He hesitated, choosing his words.
"I saw a hare today. At least I think it was a hare."
Niren: "Let me guess blue fur, chanting riddles?"
Ishan (flat): "Walking. Upright. Watching us. Like it knew."
The air between them held for a moment.
Niren's grin faded.
Ishan: "And Mani noticed it first. Heard it before I did."
Niren: "The boy again, huh?"
Ishan: "He's not just watching things. He's sensing them. Before they're even there."
Niren didn't reply immediately. Instead, he looked out toward the darkening forest, jaw set in thought.
Finally:
Niren: "You trust him now."
It wasn't a question.
Ishan: "I think I always did. Just didn't want to admit it."
Niren exhaled slowly.
Niren: "You know, when I handed him to you… it wasn't just comfort. There's something about him. Not just the quiet. It's like he's... tuned to something we can't hear."
Ishan looked at him sharply.
Niren: "Call it instinct. Or madness. Maybe I've been around Veer too long."
A silence settled between them again. Cold wind stirred the pine tops.
Then Niren spoke again, lower this time.
Niren: "The forest is changing."
Ishan: "You've seen it too?"
Niren nodded.
Niren: "Calm beasts acting strange. Patterns breaking. We spotted a pair of black-tusked boars walking in sync yesterday perfect sync. Those things barely tolerate their own shadows."
Ishan: "And that hare…"
Niren: "That hare's just the start."
He turned to face Ishan fully now.
Niren: "Stay alert. Not just for the trainees. For whatever's coming. If it's using the snow as a veil, we'll be blind before we know we're hunted."
Ishan: "You think it's planned?"
Niren (softly): "I think the island's breathing differently."
The fire crackled behind them. A hawk cried far off, followed by silence.
Then Niren clapped Ishan on the back.
Niren (lighter tone): "Get some rest. Tomorrow we train again. Just pretend the forest's still our friend."
Ishan managed a wry smile.
Ishan: "Some friend."
As Niren walked off, Ishan lingered for a moment longer.
The trees didn't move.
But he could swear they were listening.
—
Chapter 6 Ends here…