Something called from deeper in the trees. The sound rose in a single clear note, sharp enough to cut across the quiet.
Near the end of the cry, there was a small mechanical click, a precise little sound that did not match anything natural.
A second call followed with the same pattern. The source stayed hidden behind the tree line.
Ethan pushed himself upright slowly. His pack shifted but held its weight well. When he rolled his shoulders, there was no strain, no tear in the straps.
Damp moss clung to his palms. He wiped it onto his pants, then took a steady look around.
The space around him was not a true clearing. A few trees stood farther apart than usual, leaving a circle of softer ground.
The floor dipped in the middle and rose again near the edges. Moss covered most of it in a thick layer.
Low plants with wide leaves sat between the roots, each holding droplets of water that reflected the faint green light above.
