“No—this,” he says.
I move toward him quickly, pushing through a line of brush until I reach a small clearing.
He points to the ground. At first glance, it looks like nothing. Just disturbed leaves. Scattered dirt. But when I focus?—
I see it. Patterns. Paths. Movement lines.
“They mapped it,” I say.
Eli frowns. “Mapped what?”
“Our patrol routes.”
The realization lands heavy. Because this isn’t random. It’s not chaotic. It’s not even aggressive—yet. It’s calculated.
“They’ve been watching longer than we thought,” I continue, scanning the area again with sharper focus. “Tracking where we move. When we move.”
“How?” the other shifter asks, stepping closer.
“Distance,” I say. “Timing. Patterns. They don’t need to be close if they’re patient.”
And rogues?—
Rogues can be very patient when there’s something worth taking. My tiger stirs, restless.
Uneasy.
This is wrong.
I know. This isn’t intimidation. This is preparation.
“They’re not just testing us,” I say slowly.
Eli’s expression tightens. “Then what are they doing?”
I meet his gaze.
“They’re planning.”
Silence. Heavy. Because we all know what that means.
“They’re going to hit us,” he says.
“Yes.”
“But we pushed them back yesterday?—”
“That wasn’t a real attack,” I cut in. “That was a probe.”
Understanding flickers across his face.
“And this…” he gestures around us.
“This is the setup,” I finish.
For something bigger. Something coordinated. Something designed to break us. I straighten, scanning the forest again. Everything feels different now. Sharper. More dangerous.
Because now I know?—
