The whisper faded into the quiet.
Gabriel lowered his hand, the medallion settling against his chest as the pulse in his eyes slowed to a steady beat. The river moved on as it always had, reeds swaying gently along the bend the villagers had pointed out.
He stepped toward the waterline.
The mud near the bank was soft, churned in patches where something heavy had hauled itself in and out.
He crouched and pressed his fingers into the earth.
It had been recently disturbed.
Why are they hunting in the middle of the day?
Gabriel rose and drew one blade, keeping the other sheathed. Steel clinked softly as it cleared its holder. He moved without haste, placing each step carefully as he followed the river's curve, keeping the reeds to his left and open ground to his right.
The smell was stronger here. A mixture of rot and old waste left to sour in the mud.
The water ahead rippled. Not from the current.
Gabriel stopped.
He waited. The surface broke with a quiet splash.
