Little Bite returned at dusk on the second day.
Ash from the lower slopes clung to her scales in thin gray streaks. She landed lightly near the den entrance and shook herself once before reporting.
"They are still there," she said. "Not as many. They made a camp beyond the first ridge. The strong one walks the edge every few hours. They do not leave."
The great dragon's eyes narrowed. Heat thickened in the chamber until the air itself felt heavier. "Then none of you leave either. The trail is still warm enough for them to follow if you step outside my reach."
Aiden accepted the restriction without argument. Ressa only nodded. The den became their world for the time being—warm stone, stacked bones, the constant low rumble of the dragon's breathing. Outside, the forest continued under the same sky, but it no longer belonged to them. The ridgeline and the camp beyond it marked the new boundary.
