"Almost forgot about them," Skitz muttered, squinting across the water. "Are we really going to take on the lizardmen… just the two of us?"
The river-dwelling species rarely ventured onto land, which made them easy to overlook—but now that Lumberling remembered them, they were a perfect target.
"We have to," Lumberling replied. "The others can't be involved. You'll be absorbing all their essences—we can't afford to split them."
Skitz's lips curled into a grin. "Then time to train our stealth."
Lumberling nodded. "Stay close. No mistakes."
"Always, my Lord."
…..
In the canopy above the river, two figures crouched, motionless in the dense foliage. Hidden in shadow, silent, yet hyper-focused.
Lumberling sat cross-legged, eyes closed, his breathing shallow and measured. Still as stone, he had become one with the tree itself—a ghost watching over the wild.
"My Lord," Skitz whispered beside him, his gaze sharp. "They've arrived."
