[Shin's POV]
In my peripheral vision: the last stray.
A wiry, cunning-looking beast with rust-red fur, having seen his companions fall, had decided his best chance was to attack the lone, seemingly vulnerable human from behind.
He thinks I'm defenseless, I observed. Because I haven't shifted. A tactical error on his part.
He charged, claws extended like daggers, aiming for my undefended back. A snarl of triumph built in his throat—a premature celebration of a victory he would never taste.
I didn't need to turn. The calculation was instantaneous—his trajectory, his speed, the precise moment he would reach me.
Sidestep.
The motion was so smooth, so economical, that it barely registered as movement at all. One moment I was in his path. The next, I was half a pace to the left, my posture unchanged, my expression still that of a man observing a mildly interesting play.
