The Shinobi Village had not felt this alive in a long time.
From the earliest hours of the morning, people moved through the forest paths with unusual purpose. Shinobi came and went from the hidden houses, carrying messages, weapons, maps, and supplies. Quiet conversations filled the spaces between the trees. Doors opened and closed. Horses were prepared. Smoke rose from cooking fires as families worked together to feed those who would soon leave again.
The village had always tried to keep two worlds apart.
There was the world of the shinobi, built on secrecy, danger, and assassination. Then there was the world of their families, the wives, husbands, parents, and children who lived quietly within the protection of the forest. The elders had spent years trying to keep their loved ones away from the bloodshed that came with the shinobi way of life.
But this time, it was impossible to keep that line clear.
Too much was happening.
Too much was at stake.
