Affixing my quiver to my lower back and side and slinging my bow over my shoulder finishes my tracking preparations. The others are finishing gearing up as well. We had a decent camp meal, and I'm pleasantly full. Outside of the questioning look that Khalil gave me when I came back a few minutes before the meal was served, no one has said anything to me, nor has Cassandra acted in any way different than the "default" normal she's in most of the time. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts actively. We're about to go out to hunt and try to locate one of the more dangerous and rare beasts of the Wilds, and I certainly need my wits about me. There's, of course, the other side of why I need to get my head on straight–we're going out at night in the Wilds. There's a reason why when our village goes on hunting trips and trading runs, we do our movements in the daytime and use a night guard–like Aria–to patrol and protect during the evening.

Remembering the first time I saw one of the night terrors in the wild has a nice sobering effect on me. I slowly roll my shoulders towards my back, then stretch my neck in a slow circle. I feel good, but I also feel like this will be a waste of time, so there won't be too much to fear other than it just being the Wilds in darkness. I can't imagine the wiretail is still close to here; it's been too long unless there was a high concentration of prey items moving around nearby. It's possible, but it's also just not very likely.

I check the weight of my water flask on my side and feel over the small, hollow pipe hanging from the other side of my belt–next to my whittling knife–which I use with the dart inside to take down small critters like grabbat when I go hunting. I do a mental checklist, and when everything seems to be in order, I turn to go to where the other two trackers are waiting. I join them in standing with the two other riders who will accompany them while pursuing our goal.

Greeting them casually, I look around for Kline and Cassandra. They seem to be chatting just out of earshot, but I don't care enough to waste the energy to try and listen in. Their conversation doesn't last long, and afterward, the pair come over to stand beside us. Khalil has settled down next to one of the lounging wiretails and rests his back against the great cat's shoulder blades with closed eyes. If I weren't so focused on the task, I might even have felt more than mild amusement at the sight. Cassandra draws my attention back to the task when she murmurs to me.

"Ready to go then?"

I nod in response to her, my eyes shifting to look at Kline when he clears his throat a little to grab attention. In the flickering of the fire behind him, he cuts an impressive silhouette with his additional armor and weapons–a kukri and a crossbow. I can see that it makes sense for him to "lead" any kind of group. He's precisely the sort of individual that the Blackham–or any tribe probably–would love to have as a poster boy or first contact person for others to see. He's got that "look" about him.

"I know I don't need to remind you all that the Wilds at night are dangerous, so I hope you maintain discipline and awareness while you're out there. Each of you has been given a pixies' spark to use if you are distressed and need assistance. If you see one of those sparks go active, stop whatever you are doing and make your way there. If you have to use your spark, try to stay in that general vicinity so you can be found and aided."

I figure this is his version of a rah-rah team speech, so I stand there and listen while he continues to speak.

"I'll be here with the wiretails and Khalil; if I see a pixies' spark go up, I will bring the calvary with me–of that, you can be sure. If you locate the wiretail, you must lure it back here so we can wrangle it. Khalil will stay out of the way unless we find that wiretail, in which case he'll be conversing with it when we get it under control. Any questions?"

No one speaks up, which isn't surprising; we've known the plan for days. Once done, Kline walks over and settles down next to the fire. I watch the campfire for a few moments, gazing at the embers and the occasional sparks that wisp upward into the air. Some part of me wonders if I should mention that most people don't use a fire in the Wilds after dark. I think better of it, deciding not to say anything after remembering the laughter the trackers had for me when I asked if we would track during the day or the night. They know what they're doing, I remind myself.

I exhale a little, continuing to calm my mind in preparation, before walking towards Khalil. I pause next to him to lean down and squeeze his shoulder, which causes him to crack open his eyes. I give him a head nod–which he returns–before moving away. Cassandra quickly winds up at my side, and we move off the traveler's path in a direction different from the other tracking duos. After walking through the relatively thick underbrush for a few minutes, I give Cassandra a little heads-up.

"Hey," I murmur, "I'm gonna use some of my ability tonight. It's nothing crazy; I'm just going to sharpen my senses. So, if you don't mind, try not to make any weird smells, flash bang me, or scream at the top of your lungs randomly."

She smirks, her seafoam eyes reflecting the moon's provided light like a fox's.

"I'll make sure to keep that in mind."

All jokes aside, I nod to her to let her know I appreciate it. I purposefully take a deep inhale through my nose and release it. During the calming breathing exercise, I concentrate on my sluggish mind, trying to overcome the weight of trying to use my power at night under the ascendant moon. It takes more effort than I would have liked, but half a minute later, I feel the heightened sense of mental state coming from my activated abilities.

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Immediately, I can smell the scent of stagnant water, though it isn't too close by. My ears pick up the scritching and scratching of small animals scurrying through the underbrush. I slowly use my one covered forearm to brush back some of the thick and tangled brush that lay before us, ensuring that I hold it long enough for Cassandra to follow behind me, similar to the same method I use when hunting with Khalil. Cassandra, however, is so silent that a whisper of wind might be heard before her footfalls are. Only the occasional shifting of sticks or dry leaves gives away that she is still closely following me–and that's with my sense of hearing so magnified.

We continue in such a way until we finally break through the tough, abundant brush and thorn patches to a much more easily traveled forest area. When we move clear of the patches of underbrush, I carefully use my whittling knife to make a long, openly visible line on the ground leading away from the spot we just moved out of. It's enough to denote where we exited the underbrush so we know which way we can more easily return through if we have to come back this way in a hurry.

After a few minutes of moving through the trees and light brush, I realized that I needed a little bit of altitude to get a good gaze at our surroundings. I pause, crouching so Cassandra can catch up to me. Once she crouches next to me, I murmur to her.

"It's too hard for me to see signs from where we're at now; I don't even see any obvious game trails. I'll climb one of these trees and get a bird's eye view. It'll be a couple of minutes."

She nods, so I quietly creep towards a larger tree with a good climbing structure. It doesn't take me long to find my hand and footholds on the tree, and I quickly make my way up its trunk towards its much higher boughs and limbs. Once high enough in the tree but not so high that the canopy would interrupt my field of vision, I lean my back against the main support structure. Now stable in my place, I carefully scan the surroundings nearby and as far as I can see.

The sounds of the Wilds at night are haunting, yet somehow, they are just as full of life as the day. My eyes momentarily catch on a bit of gray movement, and I focus temporarily on what turns out to be a simple but massive owl, hunting in the night's gloom with its head twisting left and right. Moving on in my survey, I gaze at the ground and pause. About fifty yards from where I left Cassandra, there appears to be a mat of fur and feathers–the sign that a big cat would leave if it had left prey items and covered them for later. I study the surrounding areas more carefully now, but as luck would have it, the more I study it, the more the sign doesn't appear fresh.

Frowning, I go back to gazing over the land, carefully watching for any iota of movement or whispers of sound that could give away said movement. Nothing, nada, zilch. I decided we'd move toward the old sign I saw from up high and try to get a bearing on where to head next. Once decided, I carefully shimmy back down the tree trunk to the ground where Cassandra is still waiting.

"Any luck?"

"Not really," I mumble, "I saw some sign, but it was pretty old. Still, we should probably head that way; it's possible when we get in close to there that we'll see a pathway or markings that I couldn't see from where I was."

My tone likely gives away that I think it's a dead end, but Cassandra nods and allows me to continue to lead our hunting party. I start to move but then stop, causing Cassandra to bump into my back.

"Orion?"

"Yeah, sorry, uh, I just had a thought: I wonder if you smell blood better than I do?"

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say yes, even with your sense of smell as it is currently."

"Cool, let me know if you smell any. Just snap your fingers to get my attention."

"If you'd like."

As we start to move again, I feel better just knowing that it's probable that if there are any recent kills, we'll be able to be aware of them far before encountering them. My footfalls are quick and precise, and we weave through the trunks of trees and around the occasional patches of briars or thorns. Since we weren't far from where I saw the sign when I took my bird's eye view, we quickly located it without any trouble.

It is as I saw it: a mess of feathers and fur, matted down and covering a few bones and remaining parts of dead animals. Nearby, underneath a tree, I move over while crouched and can see the outline of depressed soil where a giant beast rested its weight for a time. However, as I thought from a distance, the sign is old. These kills were made well over a week ago. I start to stand and plan to continue an area search, but a sudden shock of illumination flares through the treetops to our east. It's so bright that I have to immediately cover my face with my hand, grunt in pain from being blinded, and draw back my magnified abilities since I can't concentrate on them anymore.

"Arghh. Fuck! I can't see shit."

"That's a pixies' spark, someone's in it."

"I can't see anything, Cass."

I try to blink away the searing white spots in my vision, but everything around is hazy and washed out with white and edges of blue and purple.

"Grab the back of my chest strap, and I'll guide us until you can see again."

I feel her cold hand grip mine, and she draws me to where I can feel the strap of her crossbody light armor. I grip tight, and Cassandra does exactly as she said she would: she moves at a fairly-rapid pace, allowing me to follow her without being afraid of ramming into her or other things. I only stumble a few times as we move along, much less than I expected.

The longer we move, the more the excruciating white fades away from my vision. By the time it's completely, or nearly completely gone, I blink my eyes and take stock of our surroundings. I release the grip on Cassandra's strap, which causes her to pause and look at me questioningly.

"I'm good now, thanks, Cass."

"Alright. Lead on then."

I shift around to take the lead and immediately pick up the pace. We move through the woods swiftly, making more noise than I would have liked, but getting to where we can see the pixies' spark starting to fade out in the sky is the most important thing. I slide down a slight embankment, followed by Cassandra, and land in a marshy, soupy mix of soil and swamp water.

"Ugh."

"I smell fresh blood; be careful now."