The forest did not return to calm.
Not after what they had just faced.
The silence that followed the beast's retreat was not relief—it was tension. The kind that lingered beneath the skin, refusing to fade.
The air itself felt heavier now, pressing subtly against their senses, as if something unseen still observed their every movement.
Duryodhana stood at the front of the group, his mace still firmly in his grip.
His breathing had steadied, controlled through discipline, but his mind remained sharp.
There was no trace of the earlier uncertainty in his posture now. Only focus.
Behind him, the other students had instinctively drawn closer together.
The excitement they once carried had diminished.
What replaced it was caution.
Real caution.
Some tightened their hold on their weapons, knuckles whitening slightly.
Others scanned the forest more frequently, their eyes no longer wandering, but searching.
Even the quietest among them now felt the weight of the situation.
