The early morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets of Stoneford as Ben, Mark, Celeste, and Torsten made their way towards the town gates. Geoffrey stood at the entrance, his face etched with concern as he bid them farewell.
"Safe travels," Geoffrey called out, his eyes lingering on Torsten. "And good luck."
Torsten nodded grimly, the weight of his village's fate heavy on his shoulders. As they passed through the gates and onto the road leading towards Oakhaven, the bustling sounds of the town faded behind them, replaced by the crunch of gravel beneath their feet and the occasional chirp of early birds.
The group traveled in relative silence for the first few hours, each lost in their own thoughts. As they left the farmlands behind and entered the wooded region, Mark's curiosity got the better of him.
"So, Torsten," he began, falling into step beside the older man, "tell us more about your village. What's Oakhaven like?"
Torsten's weathered face softened slightly at the mention of his home. "It's a small place, nestled in the mountains. We're a close-knit community, mostly hunters and gatherers. Life can be hard, especially in winter, but we look out for each other."
Ben, who had been listening intently, spoke up. "And this Awakening Ceremony you mentioned – will the druid elder be presiding over it? Would we be allowed to observe?"
Torsten's brow furrowed in thought. "Elder Hemlock usually leads the ceremony, yes. As for observing..." he trailed off, considering. "That's not really my decision to make. But I imagine Hemlock would allow it, especially if you're there to help protect us."
As they continued their journey, the conversation flowed more freely. Mark peppered Torsten with questions about the local flora, while Ben inquired about the village's defenses. Celeste remained mostly silent, but her sharp eyes took in every detail of their surroundings.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, and the forest grew denser around them.
As the afternoon sun cast dappled shadows through the trees, Koros crouched behind a thick trunk, his keen eyes scanning the narrow path leading to Oakhaven. The forest around him hummed with life, but his focus lay on the approaching mercenaries. He had received strict orders from Valerius: delay them at all costs.
"Listen up," he addressed his men, who shifted nervously under his gaze. "We need to create obstacles and distractions. Cut down those trees along the path and block it. Make it look like an accident."
His cohorts exchanged glances, uncertain yet obedient as they grabbed their axes and set to work. The sound of wood cracking and splintering filled the air as they targeted strategic spots along the narrow trail.
Koros observed them with a detached interest, masking any thoughts of their expendability. They were tools for this mission; nothing more. He would not share with them the true nature of their enemy or what awaited them should they fail.
"Once you've got that sorted," he continued, pacing among them, "set up snares on either side—nothing lethal, just enough to slow them down. Use rattling bones or small bells to make it sound more dangerous than it is."
A young bandit nodded eagerly as he tied lengths of rope to trees, constructing simple snares that would entangle feet but allow for easy escape if one was cautious enough. Koros couldn't help but smirk at their naive enthusiasm; they believed themselves clever.
After a brief survey of their handiwork—a tangle of fallen trees across the path and crude traps laid with care—Koros felt a sense of satisfaction.
"Now," he said, drawing closer to the men who stood around him expectantly, "we need some false bait in case they start sniffing around. I want a couple of you to create tracks leading off into that thicket over there." He gestured toward a dense area where underbrush hid potential pitfalls.
"But boss," one brave soul ventured, "what if they follow us?"
Koros met his gaze with cold indifference. "If they follow you and get lost in the woods? That's just a bonus for us. Your lives are less important than this plan."
The bandit swallowed hard but nodded obediently, turning to gather two others willing to take on the task.
With his traps set and false trails laid out through thick brambles and uneven ground, Koros felt satisfied enough with their progress. He turned back toward the group now working to divert attention away from their ambush point.
"Get going," he instructed brusquely. "Lead them away until we're ready."
They obeyed without hesitation; fear kept them compliant under Koros's leadership.
Once he ensured everything was in place, Koros led his men back toward their hideout nestled deeper in the forest.
He chuckled quietly at how simple it all seemed; these mercenaries were used to dealing with poachers and threats from petty criminals—not someone like him who operated under Valerius's shadowy directive.
As they reached their camp—a small clearing well-concealed by dense foliage—he turned back briefly towards the path ahead where he anticipated Ben Richards and his companions would soon tread.
"Let's hope our little surprise works," Koros muttered under his breath as he sat down on a log near the flickering firelight—a flicker that held no warmth for him or his crew.
He sharpened a blade absently while contemplating how long it would take before they realized they had walked into something far more complex than mere poachers hiding in shadows. Each second wasted added layers to their confusion—and made Koros's mission that much easier.
Iska's gaze lingered on Alph, her thoughts drifting to the changes she had sensed in him over the past days. The pup had grown stronger, his scent shifting subtly to match the crisp, wintery notes that clung to her partner, Elara. She could feel the newfound power emanating from him, like the first frost of winter settling over the land.
A sense of pride swelled within her chest. The pup was no longer just a cub to be protected; he was becoming a hunter in his own right. Iska recalled watching him create ice from nothing, manipulating the very essence of winter with a mere thought.
Yet, even as she marveled at Alph's growth, Iska could not shake the undercurrent of anxiety that had taken root in her partner. Iska understood the source of this unease – there were enemies out there, lurking in the shadows of the forest, waiting to strike at their pack.
The wolf's muscles tensed instinctively at the thought. She had sworn to protect this family, and she would do so with every fiber of her being. Her keen senses remained alert, ready to detect any hint of danger that might threaten her charges.
As the first rays of sunlight began to warm the room, Iska's thoughts drifted to more mundane matters. She found herself wondering when Elara might next reward her with a juicy mountain goat's leg. The memory of the last one – tender meat falling off the bone, marrow rich and satisfying – made her mouth water.
With a soft huff, Iska settled her head back onto her paws. For now, she would continue her vigil, watching over the sleeping forms of Alph and Elara. The promise of a treat could wait; protecting her pack was all that mattered in this moment of quiet before the dawn.