A silent figure moved through the massive forest, each step calculated to avoid making a sound. Towering trees loomed in all directions, their canopies so dense they blocked out most of the sunlight, casting the forest floor into perpetual twilight.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying wood but eerily devoid of the usual sounds of wildlife. No birds chirped, no insects buzzed—silence pressed in on him like a physical weight.
Yet, amidst the quiet, the unsettling sound of pincer legs echoed from all directions. The rhythmic clicking and scraping reverberated through the trees, creating erratic and unpredictable patterns. It was as if the forest itself was alive with unseen dangers, making it nearly impossible for the figure to anticipate where the next threat would emerge.
