Leona tucked her list away and moved with the efficiency of someone who had done this a hundred times before.
Luca followed, staying hidden in the trees, watching as the former matriarch of the village transformed into something else entirely.
She reached one of the rope bridges that connected two massive treehouses.
The bridge that had seen better days, as Luca could see the frayed ropes from where he stood, the weathered planks that creaked ominously when anyone crossed.
It was only a matter of time before someone fell through.
Leona paused at the edge, her sharp eyes scanning the bridge for damage.
Then, with that same silent grace he had seen before, she climbed onto the structure and began to work.
Her fingers moved with practiced skill, untying the old, rotten ropes and replacing them with fresh cordage she had produced from somewhere.
