The cold air was thick with tension as the three of them stood near the dying fire. Taryn crouched low, carving rough lines into the dirt with a stick. Her movements were sharp and precise, her focus unshakable.
"We need a plan," she said, her voice steady but cold. "If the convoy's route is as narrow as Darik claims, we can set up here—" she pointed to a jagged line near the edge of her crude map "—and force them into a bottleneck. Kah'el, you'll—"
"Stop."
Kah'el's voice was smooth and cutting, laced with lazy disdain. He leaned against a nearby tree, the blade in his hand spinning in idle loops. "You're wasting your time, hunter."
Taryn looked up sharply, her eyes narrowing. "And you're wasting ours. What's your point?"
