The forest pressed close on both sides. Ancient oaks with trunks thick enough to hide a man. Ferns that brushed against their calves, leaving trails of moisture on their skin. The air was heavy with the smell of wet bark and something else. Something sharp. Metallic.
Aperi moved first. His boots found the softest ground, avoiding the crackle of dry leaves. His brother followed three paces behind, matching his rhythm. They had done this before. Countless times. The forest was their second home, the one they knew better than the stone walls of their village.
Ahead, the trees thinned.
Aperi paused. His hand came up, a silent signal. Ariani stopped immediately. His breath caught, held, released in a controlled stream.
Through the gap in the branches, they saw them.
