The forest beyond the sanctuary felt different the moment they stepped out.
The calm behind them faded like a memory, replaced by a tension that pressed subtly against the skin. Selara felt it first not as fear, but as resistance. The deeper they moved, the more the forest seemed to push back.
Like it knew where they were going.
Like it didn't want them to reach it.
Selara didn't slow.
Her steps were steady, deliberate, her focus sharpened into something quiet and unyielding. The silver veins beneath her skin pulsed faintly, not flaring wildly as they once did, but controlled contained.
That alone told her how far she had come.
Draven walked beside her, silent but alert. His eyes scanned every shift in the trees, every break in the shadows. Fenryk's pack followed behind in a loose formation, more spread out than usual, covering angles, watching for movement.
Lyanna remained slightly behind Selara.
Not leading this time.
Not guiding.
Watching.
Selara noticed.
