The beast hit the ground in a low arc, claws tearing into the leaf mold where Robert had stood a breath earlier. Dirt was sprayed. The smell of damp soil and animal musk filled the clearing.
Robert did not counterattack. He slid sideways instead, feet finding firmer ground near an exposed root. His eyes flicked once past the beast into the trees beyond.
There. A ripple. Too controlled for wind. He had felt it the moment the beast tensed to leap. Not just one presence. Many. Hunters who knew how to wait.
The beast prowled in a half circle, head low, amber eyes fixed on the group. Its shoulders rolled with compact strength. Comparable to a human at Spirit Root Level 6, low stage. Strong enough to injure any of them if mishandled. Not strong enough to scare trained killers.
Robert raised his hand slightly. Not a command. A suggestion spread among the group.
