[Ray's POV]
The musty tent air clung to my skin like a second layer of grime. I swept the lantern in a slow arc, its flickering light casting long, wavering shadows across discarded supplies—torn canvas, scattered rations, the debris of a camp abandoned in haste. And there, on a rough wooden table at the center of it all: a small iron chest.
Its surface was etched with intricate runes, the kind that made my wolf stir uneasily. The lock gleamed dully in the uneven light.
"General." Colt's voice echoed from behind a stack of crates, muffled but clear. "Just more magic restraints here." He emerged holding a rusted set between two fingers, his nose wrinkling at the metallic stench. Sweat plastered his gray hair to his forehead. "Nothing useful. Unless you count tetanus as a weapon."
"Any sign of a key for this?" I tapped the chest with my knuckles. The hollow sound suggested something substantial inside
Colt shook his head, running a hand through his messy hair. "No luck, si—"
