Hidden behind a tree, I observed the scene unfold. The night's darkness shrouded me with [Twilight Veil], while [Umbral Concealment] made me effectively invisible. Guards, already on edge, approached the area with caution. As they reached the spot, their defensive postures relaxed slightly upon finding an injured vixen and her kits. Shouts and commands echoed through the clearing, drawing more people to the scene.

A keen eye revealed that not everyone bore the insignia of House Shadowstep; some were mercenaries. It suggested that this was indeed a substantial expedition, comprised of both knights of the county and hired hands.

Zach arrived, drawn either by the commotion or by someone's report. He crouched near the injured vixen, unfazed by the growling kit's attempts to nip at him, and began barking orders. As his gaze lingered on the torn fabric around the vixen's wounds, I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. I had considered removing the cloth, but I didn't want to risk worsening her injuries. While they might speculate about the mysterious benefactor who left the injured vixen there, the idea that it could be me, the ten-year-old daughter of the count, seemed utterly implausible.

I silently wished them luck in uncovering the non-existent trail.

A sense of relief washed over me as a mage in white robes, presumably a healer, arrived. I sighed, leaning against the tree. A quick tap on my eyes and a nod of gratitude to the Goddess Moonweaver – though I was new to religion, the very real presence of gods in this world compelled me to start somewhere. Offering a swift apology to the goddess, just in case I fumbled the prayer, I stole a glance back that the commotion.

Two knights were carrying the vixen back to camp, while two disgruntled kits found their way into Zach's arms.

In those moments when paranoia proved its worth, I was grateful for my lingering sense of distrust. Since entering the forest, I'd kept [Keen Perception] active, always on the lookout for potential ambushes. If I could ambush something, logic dictated there might be others lying in wait for me.

So, when [Keen Perception] erupted in my head like a banshee's scream, I didn't hesitate. I ducked and rolled, narrowly escaping an arrow that would've skewered my head moments ago. My heart pounded furiously, a sensation I would've identified as sheer fear if my emotional spectrum allowed for it.

Regardless, the analytical part of me reasoned that I had been discovered, triggering the instinct to run. Yet, the predatory instinct whispered to me, urging a mere peek at the audacious archer who DARED to shoot at me.

Stolen story; please report.

Complying with instinct and skill, I activated [Fleet Footed Sprint], feeling a surge of energy propelling me forward. Simultaneously, I twisted my neck 180 degrees with [Adaptation] to glimpse back.

There she was, Elena, a scar etched across her cheek, bow drawn with another arrow trained on me. I recognized her, she was one of Zach's high-ranking knights. Beside her, Zach, hands on his sword's hilt, gazed directly at my location.

He abandoned the kits and charged my way, Elena hot on his heels. I waited for panic to set in, but it didn’t. I just didn't understand how they had spotted me, how they had pierced through my stealth.

"Fuck!"

I snapped my neck back to its original position, pushing myself harder, mere meters away from their location.

But I just couldn’t allow them to see me. Especially Zach.

Cloak billowing behind me, I streaked through the forest. Despite my nimble sprint powered by [fleet footed sprint], the relentless duo, Zach and Elena, were like shadows on my tail. A fight could easily expose me, and the notion of lasting against them? Uncertain at best. The voice within me hadn't deemed them prey—yet.

Course changed. I pulled my cloak closer and rushed towards the stream. Zach and Elena, hot on my heels, seemed undeterred. Arriving at the flowing stream, I noted its depth, around five feet. And it was quite wide—no easy leap.

Normal folks would think twice, but I was no ordinary gremlin on the run.

[Aerial Grace] [Lethal precision]

Harnessing the momentum from my sprint, I allowed [Lethal Precision] to enshroud my feet. A leap of faith ensued, propelled by the surge of energy. [Aerial Grace] worked its magic on my trajectory; I felt the subtle shift as I contorted my body mid-air, fixing my center of mass for a calculated landing. My feet soon elegantly met the other side of the stream.

Now I just-

P A I N

The warmth, momentarily expelled. Enveloped my sheer coldness. Before I could fully comprehend the sensation, a searing agony exploded through my shoulder.

Pain, sharp and relentless. The cruel puncture of an arrowhead.

I screamed, not the brave, war cry kind, but more of a horrified tea-kettle whistle, and I fell.

My legs went full vibrate mode as I stood up once again, throwing myself into the nearest bush.

There was one skill that I always kept on a tight leash: [Eyes Of Terror Evocation]. It was like taming a wild beast—initially requiring conscious effort on my part to keep it subdued. But over the course of the month, it became as natural as breathing.

Ever since I set foot in this forest, I didn’t even give it a second thought; it was always quietly suppressed in the background.

In that moment, perhaps a sheer lapse in judgment, I ceased to care about the potential consequences. As I crossed into the forest on the other side of the stream, I channelled every bit of my remaining mana into unleashing the [Eyes of Terror Evocation].

And I stared back.