The forest light was different this morning.
Cool, soft, laced with blue mist. Not ominous—just alive.
Syrri called it Oukra's breath.
A sign that the forest watched, but not unkindly.
And so, beneath that gaze, two rhythms began.
One of healing.One of wariness.
Yutu stood beneath the wide-bell root with the twins beside her.
Ren watched from his low perch near the Springstone, silk armor pulled slightly back to enjoy the sun.
A basket of cut herbs lay at Yutu's feet.
"Today, we learn three," she said, voice clear but soft.
"For wounds. For stomachs. For dreams."
She held up the first—a curling, red-veined leaf.
"Bloodmoss. Stops bleeding fast. But burn the edges first, or it festers."
She gave each twin a stalk. They sniffed it, wrinkled their noses, then set to burning it carefully over the ember pot.
The next—a knotted white root.
"Marrowbark," Yutu said. "Good for fever. Break it with a flat stone, let the juice rise."
"Drink with water, never alone."
Ren's tongue twitched as he remembered its taste.
Bitter. But it made his core feel clearer.
The twins hammered it carefully, green juice seeping out over flat shale.
And the last—a soft petal, violet-blue, curled like a sleeping creature.
"Dreamweed," Yutu said gently. "Use only a whisper."
"Too much and you walk in your own head forever."
She cradled it for a moment.
Then let it go, scattering petals to the wind.
"This one," she whispered, "is for when we must choose to forget."
Ren bowed his head slightly.
No one asked what she meant.
Elsewhere—beneath the tree marked with three claw-lines—Ghur waited.
Ren found him kneeling in stillness, eyes closed, blade across his lap.
He had drawn lines in the dirt:loops, spirals, markers.
"Tracks," Ghur said. "Real ones. And false."
He gestured to the dirt.
"Some you leave to confuse. Some to warn. Some to hide."
Ren crouched beside him, curious.
"What about to invite?"
Ghur opened one eye, a slow smirk tugging at his scarred face.
"That… is the hardest of all."
"But we can try."
They walked the borders that morning.
Ghur carried his short blade. Ren trailed behind, silk threads coiled lightly at his wrists.
They marked tree trunks with sap.
They placed small shards of stone—a language of quiet signals.
"If something comes," Ghur said, "I'll know. Even if it thinks it's unseen."
And when they returned—
The village had changed.
Tiny woven bowls lined the Springstone, filled with sorted herbs.
A pair of bone hooks hung near the shrine, left by one of the twins.
Yutu had planted dreamweed in a shaded corner.
Even Syrri floated lower today.
Less mist. More shape.
"You're becoming something, little king," she said with a grin."A thread doesn't just catch. It weaves."
The filtered gold of Oukra's canopy dappled Ghur's grey fur as he crouched low, nostrils flaring. The scents on the wind shifted — the wild tang of moss and pine now choked by a harsher smell: sweat, iron, leather oil… and the metallic bite of blood.
Ren, balanced on a root above him, tilted his head. "What is it?"
Ghur's yellow eyes narrowed. His ears twitched back against his skull. "Chains," he growled softly. "Humans. They're driving something through the east road." His tail was stiff, betraying his agitation.
Ren's antennae quivered, and Syrri's voice pulsed in his thoughts, cold and deliberate:
[Warning: Foreign caravan detected – restrained life signatures identified. Species: Beastkin, Goblin. Escort composition: Human – armed. Estimated threat level: Moderate–High.]
The wolf beastkin's claws flexed, digging into the soil. "They smell of fear. My kin… they're taking them."
Ren's gaze shifted toward the treeline, his mind already weaving possibilities. "How sure are you?"
"I know the stink of chains," Ghur replied, lips curling back to reveal sharp canines. "And I know the silence they drag behind them."
The forest around them had gone still — no birdcall, no insect hum, just the muffled thud of hooves and the rattle of iron.
Ren felt it too, deep in his core. Not prey this time. Victims.
Syrri's whisper coiled in his thoughts:
"If you move now, Ren, the slavers will see you for what you are. You will not remain unnoticed."
Ren's mandibles clicked once, sharp and deliberate. "Then let them notice."
Ghur's ears swiveled toward the sound — faint now, but growing. "We can't face them head on," he said. "Not yet. We shadow them. Learn their numbers. Then…" His golden eyes flashed in the dim light. "…then we hunt."