The day had grown longer, and the tension around Toraz town was palpable. Young Baron Wallace stood at the edge of the forest, his mind heavy with contemplation. The red trees loomed before him, their sinister presence a constant reminder of the horned tribe's machinations. The shadow wolves had returned with nothing, but the silence that followed felt more ominous than reassuring.
For hours, Wallace had been turning over the situation in his mind. The red forest, the absence of any sign from the horned tribe, the possibility that this was all a ruse to draw them into a trap—it all felt too calculated. He knew the horned tribe was cunning, and he couldn't afford to underestimate them. But the longer he waited, the more he felt like a predator standing on the precipice of a hunt, knowing that his prey was lurking just out of sight.
