Layla freezes.
Not a flinch. Not a recoil. A full stop that locks muscle and breath in place like a command issued from deep in the spine. The stillness is so sudden it almost steals the air from my lungs.
I don’t turn.
Not yet.
Turning is reaction, and reaction gives information away. Instead, I let my weight settle evenly through my feet and keep my gaze forward, fixed on the leader across the clearing while every other sense fans outward.
I listen.
The forest hasn’t gone quiet. It’s still breathing around us. Insects hum low. Leaves shift as night air moves through branches. But behind me, something doesn’t belong to the rhythm of the outside group’s formation. There’s a disturbance that’s subtle enough to miss if you aren’t listening for it.
A soft slide of displaced earth. Leav
