After the club meeting—an entirely dull affair filled with bickering over booth sizes, sponsor placements, and who would mix what herbs—Fenrir made his exit before anyone could rope him into additional responsibilities.
He moved fast and quiet, navigating the emptying hallways with the precision of someone escaping a crime scene rather than a student leaving school.
As he reached the school's outer courtyard, his steps slowed.
Something caught his eye.
Near one of the rose hedges by the east wall, Elaine Croix crouched low, glancing around with a nervous edge.
Her long hair was pulled into a tight braid, and her normally composed expression was replaced by one laced with hesitation. Fenrir narrowed his eyes.
Elaine took something from her inventory—small and wrapped in dark cloth—and began digging into the soft dirt with her hands.
She didn't notice Fenrir standing behind the tree-lined pathway as she buried the object, patting the dirt down with quick, precise movements.
