“Why?” Alex asked, frowning.

  The pause was long enough to sting. Then Maldrith spoke, each word dragged out like it hurt to say. “Because… they say if the cursed”—he spat the word—“don’t die, the plague will come back.”

  Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “Are you contagious?”

  Sylmara shook her head quickly. “No. They aren’t. It’s nothing but fear. Old superstition.”

  “Damn,” Alex said with a short laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No wonder you’re so friendly to strangers.”

  After that, the tension eased. The hunters no longer looked ready to bolt or strike, and when Adrian offered them food, they accepted. Conversation drifted back to the Ghast, to the dangers of the forest, and eventually to smaller, safer topics.

  At some point, they were allowed to reclaim their weapons. Adrian didn’t protest. If anything, it made sense; being better armed in case a beast attacked, and maybe they just felt safer with steel in hand. He couldn’t blame them. After all, the guns had unsettled them enough.

  Maybe it wasn’t the weapons themselves, but what they represented. Either way, it had been enough to turn the balance in their favor. Adrian kept his guard up, knowing it was too early to trust fully. Still, he let his stance ease a fraction, catching Alex doing the same. Even the small bit of relief felt worth holding onto.

  They hadn’t learned much about the world yet, but rushing it would only backfire. Dropping the truth, they came from somewhere else entirely, felt like a dangerous mistake. Adrian resolved to take things slow. Alex, however, seemed determined to go off script.

  They allowed them to spend a few nights in the village. Adrian doubted it was a matter of trust alone. More likely, they wanted to keep a close eye on them. If he and Alex proved untrustworthy, the hunters would have little choice but to silence them, to protect the secret of a village full of the so-called cursed.

  Still, Adrian didn’t mind. This was exactly what they needed. A chance to stay, to observe, to learn something about this world. If push came to shove, he and Alex were ready. They not only had the will to defend themselves, but the means to do so.

  Alex leaned back, chewing slowly, eyes flicking between the hunters.

  “So… what now? You lot heading back to the village, or were you planning to keep prowling the woods?”

  Korveth’s slit eye narrowed. “Why do you ask?”

  Alex grinned, shrugging. “Well, we’re not exactly packed for a camping trip. Figured if you’re heading back, maybe we tag along. Unless you’d rather keep hunting beasts until the stars fall.”

  Adrian shot him a look. “Alex…”

  “What? I’m just asking.” He gestured toward the treeline. “Better than wandering blind, right?”

  Sylmara’s jaw tightened. Her voice was even, but clipped. “The village is not… open. Outsiders aren’t welcome.”

  “Clearly,” Adrian muttered, but his tone lacked bite.

  Maldrith flexed his clawed hand, gaze steady. “If you return with us, it is under watch. You stay where you’re told. If you break the trust, there will be consequences.”

  Alex let out a low whistle. “Sounds like a party.”

  Adrian leaned forward, elbows on his knees, studying Maldrith. “Consequences?”

  He didn’t elaborate on that, but it didn’t matter. Adrian wasn’t concerned about the consequences. If they refused to let him and Alex leave the village, they always had the Nexus. From there, Lunara was only a step away. At worst, it would be a minor setback.

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  The real issue was trust. The hunters weren’t ready to risk exposing the village’s location, and Adrian couldn’t blame them. Still, the opportunity was too good to ignore. A secluded settlement in the middle of nowhere wasn’t ideal for gathering knowledge, but when they had almost nothing, even scraps were worth chasing.

  He leaned back, eyes half-lidded, studying the hunters across the fire. Their suspicion clung to them like a second skin, and yet they had made an offer. Whether from necessity or a flicker of faith, they were opening a door. Adrian intended to step through it.

  It was the first time he would experience the culture of another world, and despite himself, he felt a spark of excitement.

  The hunters bent to their work, blades flashing as they stripped the boar with practiced ease. Thick cuts of steaming meat were wrapped in hide, lashed into heavy bundles.

  Adrian shifted his own pack higher on his shoulders. The straps dug into him, the weight of food, spare clothes, and salvaged gear already enough to make the long trek a grind. Alex, too, dragged his pack closer, crouching to check that nothing had slipped loose. Neither of them had the strength or space to carry more; the boar was the hunters’ burden.

  When the last bundle was tied off, Maldrith swung it onto his back as though it weighed nothing. Korveth hefted another, grunting softly, while Sylmara wiped her knife clean and gave a single nod.

  “Time to move.”

  The small procession fell into order. The hunters first, then Alex and Adrian. The forest swallowed the clearing as they set out, footsteps muffled by damp leaves.

  The deeper they went, the more the forest changed. The air thickened with the smell of moss and wet bark, the trees rising taller, their branches knotted together so tightly the sky was only a fractured glimpse above. Once, Adrian caught sight of pale fungi glowing faintly on a rotted log, a dim lantern left by nature itself. Insects flickered in and out of the glow, wings shimmering like shards of glass.

  A branch cracked somewhere off to the right. Adrian froze. The hunters didn’t. Sylmara simply lifted her hand, fingers splayed, and the group halted in unison. Her ears twitched, catching something Adrian couldn’t. The forest held its breath. Then, just as suddenly, she lowered her hand and they moved on. Whatever it had been, it wasn’t worth their attention.

  Adrian forced himself to match their calm, but his pulse didn’t slow as quickly. The forest’s welcome had been enough to strip away any real sense of calm. They might have looked steady, but both Adrian and Alex tracked every step, every tree, every flower as if each might turn against them. The hunters moved like they belonged here, sure-footed and unshaken, but after what happened with the rabbit, neither of them dared let their guard slip..

  Two moons hung in the sky. One large, full and silver-white, the other smaller, tinged faintly red, like a smear of blood. Together they washed the forest in pale light.

  His gaze shifted to the hunters’ backs. They walked with the discipline of soldiers, with the silence of predators. Their distrust hadn’t faded; it clung to them like the mist gathering at their ankles. Adrian respected it. If he had lived his whole life hunted, branded, forced into exile, he’d be just as cautious. Maybe worse.

  The path narrowed, winding between roots as thick as walls. The air smelled faintly of smoke now, so thin it might have been his imagination. But Sylmara’s head lifted, and Adrian knew he wasn’t wrong.

  Korveth glanced back, his slit-pupil eye glinting. “Not much farther.”

  The forest thinned at last, the trees falling away into a wide basin. Mist clung low to the ground, curling between crooked fences and smoke-darkened roofs. There, nestled against the rocks and the edge of the tree line, the village waited.

  Adrian slowed without meaning to, his pack biting into his shoulders as his eyes swept over the settlement. Rough huts of wood and stone crouched together, their thatched roofs patched with whatever scraps the people could scavenge. Thin trails of smoke leaked into the sky, carrying the faint, bitter smell of charred wood and meat.

  It wasn’t large. A handful of crooked streets wound between the homes, more paths of beaten earth than anything deliberate. To one side, hides hung stretched across frames, left to dry in the weak light.

  Farther in, a row of sharp stakes jutted from the ground, the beginnings of a palisade or perhaps a warning to anything that dared approach.

  The hunters kept walking as if none of this was worth noticing. Adrian and Alex followed.

  The closer they came, the more the village seemed to wake. A pair of children froze where they had been chasing one another between the huts. One pointed, then both bolted inside, doors slamming shut. A woman carrying a bundle of firewood stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes flicking over Adrian and Alex before she hurried on, vanishing into a doorway.

  By the time they reached the first cluster of houses, the whole place was watching. Faces peeked from narrow windows, from gaps in doorways, from the shadows of porches. Every conversation had died. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

  Adrian felt the weight of their stares. Suspicion, fear, maybe even hatred—whatever it was. He kept his gaze forward, refusing to flinch, though the urge to meet their eyes burned at the back of his mind.

  Alex muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Adrian to hear.

  “Friendly bunch.”