Noah checked his parchment again, shielding it from the rain with the folds of his leather cloak, and when he confirmed it, he looked up.
The rain kept falling in sheets, soaking through the canopy and drumming on Noah's hood as he moved deeper into the forest.
His boots sank faintly into the wet ground, mud squelching under each step, but he ignored it.
His hand clutched the parchment tight under his cloak, the inked markings still legible despite the weather.
The next location marked on it was clear enough. That was where he'd be more likely to find the Fire Birds.
He adjusted course, cutting through dense undergrowth, until the faint outlines of the woods began to change. The trees were taller here, their branches twisted and blackened as if something had burned them long ago.
Perfect.
Noah prowled through the dripping shadows, searching for signs of nests, feathers, or scorch marks.
