As Ethan continued his journey through the forest, the air grew colder and the shadows deeper. He could feel the presence of ancient energy, almost as if the forest itself was alive and watching him. His senses were heightened, and he was ready for anything that might come his way.
Suddenly, he heard rustling from the bushes to his left. He stopped, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. The noise grew louder, and before he could react, a group of figures emerged from the underbrush, their eyes glinting with suspicion and hostility. They were dressed in simple, rough-spun clothing, their skin tanned from a life lived outdoors. Each one held a primitive weapon, ranging from spears to crude bows.
Ethan's heart raced as the group surrounded him, their stance clearly defensive. He could tell that they were ready to fight, but he didn't want to escalate the situation. He raised his hands in a gesture of peace, hoping to communicate that he meant no harm.
