Renkai and Thalanir moved silently through the dense undergrowth, the forest around them thick with mist and shadow. Every snapped twig, every rustle of leaves made them pause, listening with bated breath. The scouts they were tracking were clever, leaving barely a trace, but the sharp senses of the fox and the elven warrior caught the faint disturbances in the soil, the subtle bends of branches, the faint echo of distant voices.
"They've been this way," Renkai whispered, ears twitching as he picked up a faint scent of smoke from a distant campfire. His tail flicked impatiently. "Small fire, probably a scout resting. But they know we're coming."
Thalanir nodded, his gaze scanning the treetops. "We must remain hidden. If they suspect pursuit, they'll scatter. We follow their pattern—look for repeated signs, footprints, discarded items. Patience is key."
