The report of strange lights flickering through the trees upstream sent a fresh wave of apprehension through the village. It was late evening, the Sun-Eye having long since dipped below the horizon, and the news spread quickly among the villagers gathered around the fire or preparing for rest in their huts. The lights were not the soft, cold glow of the scarred earth, or the gentle luminescence of the glowing plants in the forest. The hunter described them as sharper, more intense, and moving. Lights in the dark, in the direction from which the torn fabric and painted wood fragment had come.
Kaelen listened to the hunter's report, his scarred face grim in the firelight. He questioned the hunter closely – the color of the lights, their intensity, their movement, their approximate location. The hunter could offer only limited details; he had seen them from a distance, through the dense trees, as he completed his patrol. He had not approached closer, wisely prioritizing reporting his observation immediately.
The elders gathered quickly, their faces serious. The discovery of the fabric and wood had already put them on edge. Now, these strange, moving lights added another layer to the unsettling mystery upstream. Were they from the group whose symbol was on the wood? Were they searching for something? Were they hostile? The possibilities, each more unsettling than the last, were discussed in low, urgent tones.
The decision was made to send a small, stealthy observation group upstream immediately. They would move under the cover of darkness, approaching the area where the lights were seen with extreme caution. Their mission was not to engage, but to observe – to determine the source of the lights, the number of individuals, and their activities. Lyra, the skilled huntress, was chosen to lead the group, her expertise in stealth and tracking invaluable. Finn, despite his strength, was included for his reliability and ability to move quietly when necessary. Three other experienced hunters, known for their ability to move unseen in the forest, completed the group.
Preparations were swift and silent. The chosen hunters gathered their gear – dark clothing made from cured hides that blended with the night, sharpened knives and silent bows with a limited number of arrows, small pouches of dried food. They moved with a quiet efficiency born of years of hunting in the forest. Elias watched them prepare, his heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and a desperate desire to know what was happening upstream. He knew he couldn't go; a child would only be a liability on a stealth mission.
As the Moon-Twins climbed higher in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the clearing, Lyra and her group slipped out of the village entrance, melting into the shadows beneath the towering trees. They moved with practiced silence, their footsteps making barely a sound on the leaf-strewn ground. The village was left behind, its people waiting, listening, their senses heightened.
The remaining villagers returned to their huts, but sleep was elusive for many. The sounds of the forest at night, usually a familiar backdrop, now seemed filled with unseen movements and potential threats. The dark metal panel by the entrance stood sentinel, its smooth, dark surface absorbing the faint moonlight, a silent, enigmatic guardian against the unknown.
Meanwhile, Lyra and her observation group moved through the forest with practiced stealth. They followed the riverbank, using the natural cover of the trees and undergrowth. The forest at night was a different world, filled with the calls of nocturnal creatures and the rustling of unseen things. Lyra led them with an almost supernatural sense of direction, navigating the darkness with confidence.
As they neared the area where the lights had been reported, they slowed their pace, moving with even greater caution. Lyra signaled for them to spread out, moving parallel to the riverbank, using the dense foliage for concealment. They communicated with silent hand signals, their eyes constantly scanning the darkness ahead.
They began to see the lights through the trees – faint flickers of orange and yellow, moving slowly, deliberately. They were still some distance away, but the sight sent a shiver of apprehension through the hunters. These were not natural lights. They were clearly fire, carried or controlled by someone.
Lyra signaled for the group to halt. They hunkered down in the undergrowth, their bodies pressed against the damp earth, becoming one with the shadows. They watched the lights, their senses straining to pick up any sounds – voices, movements, the clatter of tools.
Slowly, cautiously, they crept closer, using every available piece of cover. The lights became clearer, resolving into the glow of torches. They could now make out figures moving around the torches, shapes moving through the trees near the riverbank. There were perhaps a dozen or more individuals, their forms indistinct in the flickering light.
Lyra signaled to her group, conveying their number and position. They were clearly not Zarthus's tribe; their movements and the nature of their lights were different. They were the people whose symbol was on the painted wood fragment, or perhaps another unknown group entirely.
The observation group remained hidden, watching the figures by the torches. They could hear faint sounds now – the crackling of the torches, the rustle of movement, and occasionally, low voices speaking in a language they didn't understand. It was not the language of their village, nor the melodic tongue of Zarthus's tribe. It was a new language, alien and unfamiliar.
They watched for a long time, observing the figures' activities. They seemed to be searching for something near the riverbank, moving the torches low to the ground, examining the earth and the water's edge. They occasionally pointed to something, speaking in their foreign tongue. They didn't appear to be setting up a camp, or hunting, or gathering resources in the way the villagers did. Their activity seemed focused, purposeful, and centered on the river.
Lyra and her group remained hidden until the first hint of dawn began to lighten the sky. The figures with the torches gathered together, extinguished the lights, and then moved away from the riverbank, deeper into the forest, disappearing as silently as they had appeared.
Lyra signaled to her group. They waited for a time, ensuring the other group was truly gone, before cautiously emerging from their hiding places. They moved to the area where the figures had been, examining the ground in the growing light. They found footprints, larger than their own, and the marks where the torches had been placed. They also found signs that the earth had been disturbed in places, small areas where the soil had been dug up and then replaced. They found no other artifacts, no clues as to what the figures had been searching for.
The observation group began their journey back to the village, moving quickly now that the stealth of night was no longer necessary. They carried with them the knowledge of what they had seen – strange lights, unknown people, a different language, and signs of searching near the river. The mystery of the torn fabric and the painted wood fragment had deepened, connected now to a group of outsiders who moved in the dark and searched the earth by torchlight. The sounds of the forest filled the air as they made their way back, carrying their report to a waiting village.