The forest swallowed their footsteps, the soft crunch of leaves and snapping twigs beneath their boots fading into the vast, suffocating silence. Taryn's heart hammered in her chest as they ran, but as the minutes stretched on without the echo of pursuit, she began to notice the stillness.
No shouting. No clatter of armored boots. Only the faint rustle of wind through the canopy above.
Lucien slowed beside her, his gaze darting through the darkness, sharp and calculating. "They're not following."
Taryn came to a halt, her breath misting in the cold air. She tilted her head, listening. Nothing. No sign of pursuit. The tension in her shoulders eased, but only slightly. "They've given up that easily?"
Lucien frowned, wiping his blade on his sleeve. "Unlikely. They're regrouping, or waiting for us to trip up."
"Or they're being careful," Taryn muttered, scanning the trees. "But for now, we've got breathing room."
