The mist lingered, dense and heavy, curling low over the trail that wound through the swamp. As they moved, each step seemed to echo in the silence, their footsteps muffled by the thick, damp earth. The swamp, familiar yet eerie in the morning light, felt more alive today, and even Tarek’s usually calm expression was edged with caution.
Agan kept a steady pace, his staff in hand as he scanned the shadows around them, watching the tree trunks and underbrush for any movement. The others were equally quiet, focused on the trail as they followed Tarek’s lead.
They had been tasked with gathering herbs and medicinal plants closer to the border with the Kobold Tribe territory—a place where Murkrest’s people rarely ventured alone. The kobolds were known to be reclusive and watchful, their scouts appearing unexpectedly to warn or ward off intruders. Agan had heard stories about them, but the chance to encounter one in person was both thrilling and unnerving.
“Remember,” Tarek said as they came to a sharp bend in the trail, “we’re guests in their land. Stay quiet, keep to the path, and don’t start anything. We’re here to gather what we need and leave.”
Agan exchanged a glance with Garik, who shrugged but gave a subtle nod, his expression more serious than usual. The lighthearted rivalry between them seemed to take a backseat here, the tension of their surroundings enough to keep them both focused.
They continued along the path, moving as quietly as possible. The swamp was darker here, the trees denser and thicker, their branches twisted in strange shapes overhead. Occasionally, a shadow moved in the distance—a large bird taking flight, or perhaps an animal startled by their presence.
As they reached a small rise in the trail, Tarek held up a hand, signaling for them to stop. He crouched down, examining a set of small, distinct tracks in the mud. Agan leaned in, peering over Tarek’s shoulder to get a closer look. The tracks were narrow, clawed, and appeared to have been made by several creatures moving together.
“Kobold scouts,” Tarek murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Looks like they passed through here not too long ago.”
Karu frowned, glancing over at Tarek. “Why would they be scouting this close to the Divide?”
Tarek straightened, his expression unreadable. “Could be the empire. Rumor has it they’ve been moving men near the borders, and the kobolds aren’t too keen on letting strangers roam unchecked.”
Agan felt a prickling at the back of his neck. The empire’s encroachment had always seemed distant, a threat whispered about by the elders and older villagers. But to think that they might be close enough for even the kobolds to be on edge—that was something else entirely.
“Let’s keep moving,” Tarek said, glancing back at them. “Stay close, and keep your eyes open.”
They descended the rise, following the faint path that cut through patches of tall reeds and thick mud. The air grew warmer, more oppressive, and Agan could feel his shirt sticking to his back as they trudged through the swamp. Around them, the sounds of the swamp seemed muted, as if the whole place was holding its breath.
“Feels like we’re being watched,” Aska murmured beside him, her eyes scanning the underbrush.
Garik chuckled, though there was an edge to it. “Could be the kobolds, or maybe just Karu’s sense of direction. Both seem pretty questionable.”
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Karu shot Garik a glare but didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the path. For once, he looked serious, his usual humor replaced by a wary alertness.
They reached a clearing where a dense cluster of herbs grew in patches of dappled sunlight that filtered through the trees. Tarek motioned for them to spread out and begin gathering, his gaze never leaving the edges of the clearing.
Agan knelt beside a patch of herbs, carefully loosening the soil around each plant and placing them into his satchel. As he worked, he became acutely aware of the quiet around them, the way every small sound seemed to amplify in the stillness. Somewhere nearby, he heard the soft splash of something moving in the water, followed by the rustle of leaves.
He glanced over at Garik, who was working a few paces away, his movements quick and efficient. Garik caught Agan’s eye and gave a quick, barely-there nod—an acknowledgment that they were both feeling the weight of the moment.
They continued gathering in silence, each of them focused but aware of the others. Karu, true to form, muttered under his breath as he worked, his hands dirt-streaked and his face a mix of concentration and frustration.
“Couldn’t we find something that grows a little closer to home?” he whispered, glancing around as if expecting a kobold scout to jump out at any moment. “I swear, every time we go on these trips, we end up further into someone else’s territory.”
“Quit complaining,” Aska hissed, rolling her eyes. “We’re almost done.”
Just then, a flicker of movement caught Agan’s eye—a shadow slipping through the reeds on the far side of the clearing. He froze, his hand stilling on the plant he was holding, and looked up just in time to see a pair of amber eyes watching him from the underbrush.
A kobold scout.
The kobold was smaller than Agan had expected, with wiry limbs, a long snout, and scales that glistened in shades of green and black. Its eyes, sharp and intelligent, held a mix of curiosity and caution as it watched them, remaining perfectly still.
Agan slowly released the herb, keeping his movements deliberate and non-threatening. He glanced at Tarek, who had noticed the kobold as well and gave a slight nod, a gesture of respect.
The kobold raised a clawed hand in a brief signal, a motion that Agan didn’t recognize. Tarek responded with a gesture of his own, clearly familiar with the scout’s language. The kobold’s gaze shifted from Tarek to the rest of the group, assessing each of them in turn.
Finally, the kobold pointed toward the Divide, its voice a low, guttural sound that carried a clear warning. Tarek inclined his head, acknowledging the message, though he didn’t translate it for the group. With a final nod, the kobold disappeared into the reeds, leaving them alone once more.
Garik was the first to break the silence. “What did it say?”
Tarek glanced over his shoulder, his expression grave. “They’re warning us. Said the empire’s scouts have been spotted near the Divide, and they don’t want anyone straying too close.”
A ripple of unease passed through the group. Agan felt the weight of the warning settle over him, a reminder that the empire’s reach was growing closer with each passing day.
“We should get moving,” Tarek said quietly, glancing around the clearing. “No sense in staying out here longer than necessary.”
They packed up quickly, gathering the last of the herbs and securing their satchels. The tension in the air was palpable, each of them moving with a new urgency, aware that the safety of Murkrest felt more fragile than ever.
As they made their way back through the swamp, Agan fell into step beside Garik, both of them silent. He could feel Garik’s gaze on him, a question unspoken between them.
“You think they’ll come this way?” Agan asked finally, his voice low.
Garik shrugged, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I don’t think they’d waste their time warning us if they didn’t think it was possible.”
Agan nodded, the weight of Garik’s words sinking in. The empire was no longer a distant threat—it was here, on their borders, a shadow creeping closer with each day.
When they reached the edge of Murkrest, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the village. Agan felt a sense of relief as he stepped onto familiar ground, the quiet strength of Murkrest wrapping around him like a protective cloak.
As they handed the herbs over to the healers, Tarek gathered the group, his expression serious. “Things are changing. The kobolds know it, and so should we. The empire’s getting bold, and we need to be ready for whatever that means.”
Garik nodded, his usual humor replaced by a steely determination. “We’ll be ready, Tarek. Whatever it takes.”