Night crept in as the hunters set up a small fireless camp beneath a broad rock outcropping. They chewed on dry rations, trading stories about other hunts—giant boars, night serpents, even a wyvern once glimpsed near the mountains.
Talon crouched on a tree branch nearby, sipping from a new gourd he'd pulled from somewhere. He watched them without a word, eyes half‑lidded, swaying slightly as though the liquor had him on the edge of dreams.
"…you think anyone else knows?" one hunter asked.
"Nah. Information like this don't come cheap. Guild said this crawler's been living in that cave for years. Nobody's had the guts to go after it."
They laughed again. Nervous, tired.
Talon smirked faintly. "Cave, huh… lucky me."
He adjusted his sword, leaning back against the trunk. For a while, he dozed, letting them talk. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, as though aware of the sleeping predator perched in its branches.