The wind changed first.
A low, restless breeze swept across the riverbank, stirring the tall grass and sending ripples across the water's surface. Leaves rustled uneasily in the trees, whispering warnings through the forest.
The sky darkened slowly.
Clouds gathered above the horizon.
Heavy.
Gray.
Unforgiving.
The knight watched the shifting sky in silence.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Measuring time.
Calculating distance.
Predicting danger.
Storms were more than weather.
Storms were obstacles.
Storms were risks.
Storms were killers.
Behind him, Arin struggled to his feet.
His legs trembled under his weight.
Muscles still sore.
Body still weak.
But standing.
That alone felt like victory.
He tightened the blanket around his shoulders and took a careful step forward.
Then another.
Slow.
Unsteady.
Determined.
The knight noticed immediately.
"Good," he said quietly.
The single word filled Arin with quiet pride.
Not praise.
Approval.
The knight walked back to the remains of their small camp.
He kicked dirt over the fire.
Grinding the embers into the earth.
Erasing the smoke.
Erasing the evidence.
Erasing their presence.
Survival meant leaving no trace.
Arin watched closely.
Learning.
Remembering.
Understanding.
"Why put out the fire so carefully?" he asked.
The knight stood and brushed dirt from his hands.
"Because hunters follow signs," he replied.
He pointed toward the darkening sky.
"And storms erase them."
Arin nodded slowly.
The lesson made sense.
Everything had a purpose.
Even weather.
The wind grew stronger.
Cold air pushed through the trees.
Sharp.
Uncomfortable.
Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance.
Low.
Threatening.
The knight adjusted the strap of his pack.
His movements steady.
Prepared.
Focused.
"We move now," he said.
No hesitation.
No delay.
No debate.
Arin swallowed hard.
His body still ached.
Every step hurt.
Every breath reminded him of the fall.
But he nodded.
"Yes."
They began walking.
The forest path twisted through dense trees and uneven ground. Roots jutted from the soil like traps, and loose stones shifted underfoot with every step.
Careful footing mattered.
One mistake could mean injury.
One injury could mean death.
Rain began to fall.
At first—
Only a few drops.
Soft.
Scattered.
Then more.
Soon—
The sky opened.
Water poured from the clouds in heavy sheets, drenching the forest and turning the ground into thick mud.
Thunder cracked overhead.
Lightning flashed across the dark sky.
The storm had arrived.
Arin pulled his cloak tighter around his body.
Cold water soaked through the fabric instantly.
His teeth began to chatter.
But he kept moving.
Because stopping meant danger.
The knight walked ahead, scanning the terrain constantly.
Watching for movement.
Listening for sound.
Reading the forest like a map.
Suddenly—
He stopped.
So abruptly that Arin nearly walked into him.
"What is it?" the boy asked.
The knight raised one hand.
A silent signal.
Stop.
Both of them froze.
Rain hammered against the ground.
Thunder roared overhead.
Wind whipped through the trees.
But beneath the storm—
Another sound emerged.
Faint.
Rhythmic.
Unnatural.
Hoofbeats.
Arin felt his heart drop.
"Are they back?" he whispered.
The knight crouched slowly.
Pressing one hand against the muddy earth.
Listening.
Feeling.
Confirming.
The vibrations traveled through the ground.
Steady.
Organized.
Approaching.
More than one rider.
Many.
His expression hardened instantly.
"They never stopped," he said.
Lightning flashed again.
Bright.
Blinding.
For a brief moment—
The forest ahead illuminated.
And in that flash of white light—
Arin saw them.
Dark shapes moving between the trees.
Silent.
Patient.
Closing in.
The hunters had found them again.