Del crouched low, his hand brushing aside the dew-damp grass as he studied the faint marks in the earth. His tracking skills had never been stellar, but these prints practically shouted at him. Seth’s heavy footfalls left deep indentations in the mud, their edges still soft and glistening in the early morning light. Beside them, lighter, more scattered paw prints marked the ground, but Del knew they wouldn’t last long under the warming sun.
Misty padded silently ahead, her ginger fur blending with the dappled shadows beneath the canopy. Her tail flicked, and she gave him a mental nudge, her thoughts laced with disdain. ‘Dog. Strong smell.’ Del wrinkled his nose, almost imagining the abusive whiff of wet fur and slobber.
The trail wound downstream, following the gentle gurgle of the river. Del’s mind churned as they walked, the questions gnawing at him like a blade pressed too close to the skin. Why had the brothers drugged them? Why take Elara? And more importantly, why leave him alive?
He glanced at Misty, her sleek frame moving with a predator’s grace. “What do you think, furball?” he asked aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did I do the right thing with Bran?”
Misty didn’t even glance back. She exhaled a sharp huff, her tail twitching as if to say, ‘Figure it out yourself.’
Del sighed. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he muttered. He shook his head, the weight of his actions pressing heavier with each step. The memory of Bran’s lifeless body flashed in his mind, the arrow still protruding from his chest. ‘He had a knife,’ Del thought defensively. ‘I didn’t. He thought I was tied up. What choice did I have?’
‘Keep telling yourself that,’ came the snide retort. ‘Say it often enough and you can justify anything.’
‘And what would you do different?’ He thoughts angry.
‘Nothing, it was him or you, just don’t overthink things.’
But the argument felt thin, the silence of the woods offering no absolution. His jaw tightened. ‘If they wanted me dead, why not just slit my throat while I was unconscious?’ The thought lingered, cold and uncomfortable.
The trail veered sharply, splitting into two paths. One was well-worn, its muddy ruts catching the morning sun in gleaming streaks, and it continued downstream, hugging the riverbank’s curve. The other was a narrow, almost hidden track, its entrance marked only by a faint break in the underbrush. Misty hesitated, her nose twitching as she stood at the fork. Her tail flicked, and she padded deliberately toward the smaller path, her movements measured and purposeful.
Del followed her lead, crouching to inspect the ground. The earth here was firmer, its surface packed tight by the rising warmth of the day. The tracks were faint, almost ghostly compared to the clear impressions they had followed earlier. He frowned, running his fingers lightly over a shallow indent.
“Fewer tracks here,” he muttered to himself. But Misty’s soft mewl drew his attention. Her head tilted, her ears swivelling as she confirmed it in her own way: Seth had crossed the river.
Del chuckled, his tension easing slightly. Scooping Misty into his arms, he cradled her against his chest. “You just can’t stand getting wet, can you?” he teased, earning an indignant glare. Her whiskers twitched, and she wriggled free the moment they reached the other side, landing lightly and shaking herself as if insulted by the mere suggestion of dampness.
Once free, Misty’s nose went straight to the ground, her whiskers quivering as she sniffed the air. Her amber eyes flicked to Del, and she began weaving through the underbrush with renewed urgency.
The terrain shifted as they pressed deeper into the forest. The ground hardened beneath their feet, the earlier dew fading under the strengthening sun. Here, the trees grew closer together, their branches knitting into a canopy that muted the light into fractured beams. Shafts of sunlight danced across the forest floor, illuminating patches of moss and fallen leaves that crunched softly under Del’s boots.
Misty’s pace quickened, her tail held low as she darted ahead, then paused to glance back at him. The light caught her eyes, making them gleam with an almost knowing intensity.
Del’s chest tightened, his breath catching. “She’s close, isn’t she?” he murmured, his voice barely audible. Misty’s soft mewl was all the confirmation he needed.
He straightened, his gaze sweeping the woods ahead. The air felt thicker here, heavy with the mingling scents of damp earth and decaying leaves. Beneath it all was a faint aroma that set his nerves on edge—blood, or maybe sweat. He wasn’t sure which he feared more.
Del’s steps grew more measured, each one carefully placed to avoid snapping twigs or disturbing the brittle underbrush. Despite his efforts, the occasional misstep betrayed him. A sharp crack echoed through the stillness as his boot snapped a hidden branch.
Misty froze, her body low and her ears flattening against her head. She turned to him, her glare sharp enough to pierce armour, and her tail lashed once in disapproval.
“Sorry,” Del whispered, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Not all of us were born to be stealthy.”
Misty blinked at him, slow and deliberate, as if weighing the worth of his apology before turning back to the trail.
The wind shifted, carrying with it the faintest sound—a whisper of movement, a rustle just beyond sight. Del stiffened, his senses straining. He crouched lower, the bow slung across his back pressing lightly against his shoulder blades.
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He scanned the area, his breath slowing as he focused. A faint, almost imperceptible glimmer of understanding crossed his mind. The placement of the tracks, the shifting breeze, the faint imprints that might have eluded him before—it all fell into place like the pieces of a puzzle.
[Tracking has improved slightly]
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Maybe he wasn’t completely hopeless after all.
Misty moved like a shadow through the underbrush, her ginger coat blending with the shifting patches of sunlight and shade. Del followed at a careful distance, his hand hovering near the hilt of his sword as the trees around him seemed to close in.
The trail wound upward, the incline gradual but steady. Del’s legs burned with the effort, but he welcomed the strain—it sharpened his focus, grounding him in the moment. Above, the canopy swayed in a gentle breeze, the rustling leaves masking the softer sounds of movement.
Misty paused ahead, her body stiffening. Del mimicked her instinctively, crouching low. The air had changed again, and this time, it carried something unmistakable: voices.
Del’s jaw tightened, his grip on his sword hilt firming. The time for tracking was over.
The incline grew steeper, the path winding uphill. Del felt the strain in his legs as he climbed, his breathing steady but shallow. The breeze shifted, carrying the faintest trace of voices. He froze, his ears straining.
One voice was sharp, female, and unmistakably Elara’s. The other was deeper, gruff, and filled with irritation. Seth. Del’s stomach clenched.
‘Good,’ he thought, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. ‘Keep yelling, Elara. Make him angry. Distracted.’
Misty stopped abruptly, her body low to the ground. Del knelt beside her, his fingers brushing her flank as he sent a thought her way. ‘Find a good spot. I’ll move closer on the path.’
The cat shot him a look, her golden eyes narrowing.
“Yes, I’ll stay quiet,” Del hissed, rolling his eyes. He watched as Misty disappeared into the underbrush, her movements silent and fluid.
He rose slowly, each step forward deliberate and careful. The sound of voices grew louder. The forest seemed to close in around him, the shadows deepening, the air thick with anticipation.
Del crouched low behind a thicket, the leaves brushing his face as he carefully parted them for a better view. The clearing ahead was a modest break in the dense forest, dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above and spilling uneven patches of light onto the grass. Seth and Elara had paused for a rest, though the tension between them was palpable even from this distance.
Newt lay sprawled near Seth, his oversized frame relaxed but alert. His pointed ears twitched at every shift in the breeze, his eyes fixed intently on Elara. She sat on the ground, her posture rigid with indignation. Around her wrists, a glowing, intricate chain glowed faintly in the dappled light, its shifting hues casting subtle ripples onto the dirt below.
Del winced at the sight of it. They must be some sort of magical restraints.
Elara’s voice broke through the silence, sharp and cutting. “Get these damn chains off me, you fat, hairy ape!” she bellowed, her tone brimming with fury.
Seth remained maddeningly calm, his voice steady as he replied, “You know I can’t do that.”
Del couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration for her spirit. Even bound and under Seth and the dogs watchful eyes, Elara didn’t waver.
“I won’t run—Newt could catch me easy. Please, I need to go. You know, go?” Her voice took on a desperate edge, and she shifted uncomfortably, crossing and uncrossing her legs for effect.
Seth sighed, waving a hand dismissively toward the tree line. “Step behind that tree if you must. You don’t need me to unchain your magic just to take a piss.”
Del suppressed a chuckle, his lips quirking into a small smile. ‘Keep pushing him, lass,’ he thought. He stayed motionless, letting the scene play out. With any luck, Seth’s guard would drop, and more useful details would emerge.
“But whyyy?” Elara whined, drawing out the word in a voice that teetered between plaintive and theatrical. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she looked up at Seth, her expression a masterclass in pitiful persuasion.
‘Playing the emotion card now, huh?’ Del mused, both impressed and amused.
“If you don’t stop whining, I’ll gag you as well,” Seth snapped, his calm exterior beginning to crack. His frustration leaked into his voice, his words clipped. “Shut up and walk. We’ll be there just after the midday sun.”
Del’s ears pricked at the mention of a destination. ‘Be there? Be where?’ he wondered, his mind racing. The details were maddeningly vague, but every word mattered.
“You complete and total moron, Seth,” Elara spat, her voice rising with fury. “I’m not the prize you think I am.” Her tone shifted, growing more desperate. “Let me go!” she screamed, tears streaking her face as her anger boiled over into frustration.
Del’s heart ached at the sight, her raw emotion cutting through his detachment. But before he could dwell, the wind shifted, carrying his scent up the rise toward the clearing.
Newt’s head snapped up, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. His eyes locked onto the foliage where Del hid, and a low growl rumbled in his chest.
‘Fuck.’ Del froze, his breath catching as his pulse thundered in his ears. He felt his fingers tighten on the bowstring, his muscles coiling instinctively.
Before Newt could react, a streak of orange erupted from the underbrush. Misty. She moved like a flash of fire, her claws extended as she launched herself onto the massive dog’s back. A yelp tore through the clearing as she raked bloody trails across his haunches before leaping clear and vanishing into the shadows.
Newt spun, his massive frame crashing through the underbrush as he gave chase. The sound of snapping branches and fading snarls echoed through the forest, leaving Seth and Elara momentarily stunned.
Del stepped into the clearing, his bow drawn and the string taut, an arrow trained squarely on Seth’s chest.
“Now,” he began, his voice low and steady, “why don’t you do what the lady says and untie her? Then we can all sit down and have a nice, friendly little chat.”
Seth’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What the hell? How are you—” His hand darted toward his belt, reaching for a knife.
Del’s arrow flew, a sharp whistle cutting through the air. It struck the ground at Seth’s feet, embedding itself in the dirt.
‘Fuckit, missed again,’ Del thought angrily.
Seth froze mid-step, his face a mix of anger and caution.
“That’s the only warning shot you get,” Del said, already nocking another arrow. His voice held a dangerous calm. “The next one goes in your leg. Then your arm.” He shrugged lightly, his bow unwavering. “So why don’t we have a civilised talk instead? I don’t want a new dog, and I’m not in the mood for killing animals.”
He paused deliberately, letting the silence stretch as he held Seth’s gaze. “You, on the other hand, still have options. Do you want to live or not?”
Seth’s grip on the knife faltered, his knuckles whitening as his eyes darted between Del and Elara. The tension in the air was suffocating, every second stretching into an eternity.
Del waited, his stance steady, his aim unflinching. Behind Seth, Elara’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, her defiance undimmed.