The sky overhead had been darkening for hours. Thick, swirling clouds slowly blotted out the sun, casting the forest in an eerie half-light. The air was heavy with moisture, and the sound of distant thunder rumbled ominously through the trees. James and his companions walked silently, each one on edge after their confrontation with the Wickerman. The defeat of the ancient creature had left them with a temporary victory, but they knew the curse that plagued Provost was far from lifted.
"Feels like something's watching us," Pippy muttered, her long ears twitching as she glanced around the dense forest. "Something worse than before."
James nodded, gripping the hilt of his sword. "The Wickerman might be gone, but his presence lingers in these woods. We can't let our guard down."
