The crackling of a small fire provided a brief respite from the biting cold as the four women huddled around it. They had set up camp just beyond the village in a clearing surrounded by towering trees, their shadows stretching like long fingers into the fading light. Rina stood apart from the group, sharpening her sword with slow, deliberate strokes, her face illuminated by the flickering flames.
The evening was eerily quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the distant call of a lone owl. Despite the stillness, there was an unsettling energy in the air, as if the very forest were watching them.
"Do you feel it?" Julia asked, her voice low. She was sitting on a log, her hands resting on her magic sword, its silver blade faintly shimmering in the firelight.
