Sloco woke before the sun.

The air outside was cool, still carrying the bite of the night. The camp was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of voices from the early risers. A few hunters were gathering their gear near the edge of the trees, and an old woman sat by a firepit, stirring the embers back to life.

Sloco wandered without direction, his mind caught on Percil’s question from last night.

"If you go… should I go with you?"

He had wanted to answer—wanted to say no, or maybe yes, or something in between. But he hadn’t. Because part of him knew she’d made up her mind already. And part of him…

Part of me doesn’t want to be alone.

The thought settled in his chest, uncomfortable but impossible to ignore. He stopped near the training pit, where old weapons leaned against a rack, dulled from use.

Would he even survive out there? Could he?

The crunch of boots behind him made him turn.

Gor’il.

Sloco stiffened but didn’t move as the leader approached. Gor’il’s expression was unreadable, his posture as calm as ever.

“Up early.” His voice was even.

Sloco shrugged. “So are you.”

A small smirk, barely there. “I usually am.”

Silence settled between them. Then Gor’il exhaled through his nose. “Look. I know we don’t agree on a lot of things, but I’d rather not spend every conversation at each other’s throats.”

Sloco crossed his arms. “That’s up to you.”

Gor’il studied him for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine. Straight to business, then.”

Sloco tensed.

“I want you to go on an expedition.”

A beat of silence. Sloco’s heart kicked against his ribs.

“…What?”

Gor’il folded his arms. “It’s not an order. It’s a request. But I think you’ll take it.”

Sloco narrowed his eyes. “And why’s that?”

Gor’il didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced toward the camp entrance, where the trees stretched eastward, past the known lands.

“We don’t know what’s out there,” he said. “We need more land. More options. If we stay in one place too long, we weaken ourselves.”

Sloco knew this argument. He didn’t disagree, but he hated the way Gor’il always framed it—survival, strength, positioning. Never people.

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Still. The offer was tempting.

Too tempting.

He forced himself to frown. “And what if I refuse?”

Gor’il tilted his head. “You won’t.”

The certainty in his voice made Sloco bristle. “What makes you so sure?”

Gor’il glanced past him—just for a second, toward the woodcutters’ camp. The movement was subtle, but it was enough.

Sloco exhaled sharply. “Garan told you, didn’t he?”

Gor’il didn’t confirm or deny.

Sloco clenched his jaw, then relaxed it. He wouldn’t give Gor’il the satisfaction of seeing how much he wanted this. “…Fine.”

Gor’il nodded, unsurprised.

“Good. You leave soon. Percil will go with you.”

Sloco blinked. “…What?”

Gor’il’s smirk returned, just a fraction. “You already accepted. Can’t back out now.”

Sloco opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

Damn it.

A voice behind him made him jump.

“That’s fair.”

Percil stepped into view, arms crossed, her expression as neutral as ever.

Sloco groaned. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

She didn’t sound upset. If anything, she looked amused.

Sloco shot Gor’il a glare. “You planned this.”

Gor’il simply gave a slow shrug. “She deserves to make her own choice.”

Percil nodded. “And I made it. I’m going.”

Sloco dragged a hand down his face. He should’ve known.

Before he could argue further, another figure approached.

Garan.

He walked past Sloco without a glance and stopped in front of Gor’il, speaking in a low tone. Sloco couldn’t make out the words, but Gor’il’s response was clear enough.

“Fine. You’re going too.”

Sloco’s head snapped up. “What?”

Garan finally turned toward him, arms crossed. “Problem?”

Sloco stared at him. He hadn’t expected him. The woodcutters liked him, sure, but that didn’t mean they wanted to babysit him across unknown land.

Gor’il gave Sloco a pointed look. “If you want an expedition, you need someone who knows how to handle themselves.”

Sloco bristled. “I can handle myself.”

Garan smirked. “Sure you can.”

Sloco muttered something under his breath.

Gor’il, as if sensing the conversation was about to spiral, changed the subject.

“Go east.”

Sloco blinked. “Why east?”

“It’s the only way with any real promise.” Gor’il gestured behind him. “North leads to water. South leads to water. West is just more water.” He paused. “East is open.”

Sloco looked toward the treeline. Open. Unknown. Full of possibilities.

Gor’il’s voice pulled him back. “Write a report when you return. If you return.”

Sloco narrowed his eyes. “That almost sounded like concern.”

Gor’il smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Think what you want.”

Then, just before he left, he added:

“And if you find something worth bringing back… well. You’d best make sure it’s worth the trouble.”

Sloco frowned. The words were casual, but something about them lingered.

It almost sounded like he knew.

Like he knew what Sloco was really looking for.

Before Sloco could say anything, Gor’il was gone.

Sloco let out a slow breath.

Percil nudged him. “Well. Guess we’re going on an expedition.”

Sloco ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

Garan clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Try to keep up, kid.”

Sloco sighed. This was going to be a long journey.

And somehow, he already knew it wouldn’t just be about the land.