They froze for a split second, breath caught, as that wet scuttling echoed all around them, as if the very trees had begun to breathe.
"We can't avoid it," Maggie ground out between her teeth, already staring at a thinning gap in the woods ahead. "We need to head straight for that open ridge and run."
Élisa nodded once. Wordlessly she lowered her spear, focused her sigil: a green vibration rippled through the air, grazing the trunks, scrambling the senses of anything trying to track them. A fragile psychic veil, but enough to sow confusion in creatures attuned to the mind.
Dylan gripped his sword in front of him, knuckles white. "If we meet anything, we dodge the fight unless we really have no choice."
He stepped forward, eyes scanning the shadows. Maggie followed, stepping softly on the leaves, ready to strike… or to dart back the other way if needed. Élisa slipped between two trunks, almost ghostlike, her mental shield swallowing the sound of their steps.
