By the time Ragnar reached his tent, a subtle unease had already begun to settle inside him. A persistent nudging against his instincts.
He lifted the flap and stepped inside, his eyes sweeping over the tent's interior, scanning every detail. He checked his belongings one by one, his movements methodical. His sword rested exactly where he had left it. His pack remained undisturbed, the straps neatly secured. Nothing appeared out of place.
And yet, when his inspection ended, the feeling did not fade.
If anything, it deepened.
Though there was no evidence to prove it, he could not shake the certainty that someone had been inside his tent not long ago.
***
Ragnar and the rest of the hunters set out again at first light. They had been on the road for five days now, and the signs along the trail had grown clearer with each passing mile. They were closing in on the beast.
