The forest border did not welcome the morning as the estate had, for beneath the canopy the light fractured into thin, uncertain strands, leaving the ground shadowed and uneasy, as though the earth itself remembered something that the sun could not erase.
Luca stood at the edge where stone gave way to soil, his boots pressing into the softer ground with a quiet firmness, his gaze sweeping the treeline with practiced caution, his shoulders set in a way that carried both readiness and restraint.
Beside him, Rhea adjusted the strap across her shoulder, her posture loose at first glance yet coiled beneath, every movement deliberate, her eyes tracing paths that no ordinary glance would follow.
The air held a faint scent that did not belong entirely to the forest, something disturbed, something altered, brushing against instinct with a quiet insistence that refused to be ignored.
"…we track it," Luca said.
His voice was low.
