Kyva slowly reached into her boot, taking out the small dagger she had kept hidden there. It was a meagre thing from the hunters, hardly the weapon of a seasoned warrior. But the mere knowledge of its presence lent her a fragile courage, as though the steel alone might stand between her and whatever shadows lurked ahead.
The hours wore on with a dreadful slowness as she pressed deeper into the forest. The air grew heavy, and the silence didn't feel like normal silence at all. Twisted roots snared at her steps, and the gnarled branches above seemed to lean together like whispering crones.
Her eyes kept shifting, wary of any movements, yet searching all the while for any signs of the orbs.
Were they hidden, as in some cruel child's game? Was she meant to search beneath every stone and root till she stumbled upon one?
Her grip tightened upon the dagger's hilt.
