Luckborn

Tennin led them past the fence line and down a narrow game trail, his dog trotting silently behind. The path twisted through clumps of brush and wild grass, slick with morning dew and thick with the scent of loamy earth. Sheep grazed lazily on the hillside, their soft bleats distant but persistent, like a backdrop of rural normalcy against the tension winding through the group.

Birds startled from low branches as the party moved through the undergrowth. The air was warm, the humidity thick enough to muffle sound and bend light. But a breeze threaded its way between the trees, carrying the faint scent of something rotten.

After a few minutes, the scattered pasture trees gave way to denser woodland. Young oaks and willows crowded the path, and the ground dipped slightly underfoot. Tennin halted at the edge of a shallow hollow, his boots shifting in the soft soil. "This is the place," he said quietly, pointing down into the narrow gully. "Down there."

The team descended carefully into the dip, eyes scanning the woods. The brush here was sparse, likely due to grazing, but the trees cast long shadows that moved even when the wind was still.

At the bottom, they found a neatly arranged pile of bones—clean, white, and disturbingly deliberate. Vertebrae were stacked like coins. Ribs radiated outward in a precise fan. The skull, however, was conspicuously absent.

Erin crouched beside the pile, her gloved hand hovering just above the bones. "I don't know of any predator that would do this. It's too organized. Except maybe a person. A sick one."

"Yeah," Otter agreed, arms crossed tightly. "This feels intentional."

"Now that I'm seeing this," Milo added, "it doesn't match our initial assessment of creature type. This feels like it has some level of intelligence. Maybe some kind of Kaosling."

"Or like Erin said," offered Jasper, scanning the trees. "Maybe it's some sicko trying to scare people." He glanced up the incline toward Tennin and raised his voice. "You have any disputes with neighbors? Land issues? Anything like that?"

Tennin shook his head. "Nah. Nobody wants to live out here. Too far out. Plenty of room for everyone."

"Do we have enough to make our report now?" Milo asked, already half-turned, his posture betraying how eager he was to return to Aurelia.

"Not yet," Erin said, standing. "We don't know if this was a lone creature or a pack. And we don't even know if it's still in the area. That's critical."

"So we split up?" Jasper asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Look for tracks or anything unusual?"

Erin shook her head. "No. You four go back up there. I'll scout around. That's kind of my thing, remember? Too many boots on the ground will ruin any sign that's here. I won't go far, but you all need to stay quiet."

They obeyed. Erin waited until they had climbed out of the hollow to regroup with Tennin, then slipped into the trees like smoke. Her head moved constantly, eyes sharp, every muscle tensed for the smallest sign of trouble.

Otter watched her go, but she vanished almost immediately, swallowed by the dense weave of trunks and low-hanging branches. For a while, the group stood in silence.

"Well?" Tennin said, but Sage raised a hand.

"Our Scout is searching," she murmured. "Let's not distract her."

The silence stretched. Ten minutes passed with no sign of Erin. Otter's nerves buzzed just beneath the skin. No shouts. No rustling. No sign of her at all.

It was quiet. Maybe too quiet.

Otter tried listening—not for anything unusual, but for the usual: birdsong, insect hum, squirrel claws on bark. But aside from the wind teasing the canopy, the world was unnaturally still. He frowned.

Behind them, a sheep bleated. A good sign.

But the woods ahead? Nothing.

That absence scraped at his instincts. It wasn't just the presence of humans causing the hush. Something else was wrong.

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Then, movement.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tennin's dog—a black and white Collie—tilt her head, ears twitching. Otter followed her gaze just as Erin emerged from the treeline, silent as a shadow.

Otter turned back toward the dog, preparing to praise her, when he realized something was off.

She wasn't looking at Erin.

Her body was taut. Nose pointed slightly to the left. Muscles coiled.

Then she bolted.

She raced past Erin and disappeared into the woods.

"Nell! Nell, you get back here!" Tennin shouted, voice cracking from both age and alarm.

Otter looked at him. The old man's hands trembled slightly.

"Does she run off like that often?"

Tennin hesitated. "No. Not unless a sheep has gotten loose. But that's a different run. I've seen dogs chase rabbits or squirrels—this wasn't that. Nell don't chase things she ain't supposed to."

Erin rejoined them, eyes narrowed. "No sign of a pack. But something's been here recently. The brush is disturbed. And no fresh scat or tracks from other animals. Which is strange, considering how recently livestock was here. It's like the whole place got scared off."

"Should we go after the dog?" Otter asked. "See what she found?"

Erin looked toward the trees, thoughtful. "Maybe. I could follow her."

Sage's voice cut cleanly through the moment. "No. We were ordered not to engage. We have enough to make our report."

Tennin frowned deeply but didn't argue. He kept staring down the hill, hands clutching at his staff, concern etched into every line of his face.

Otter didn't want to leave the dog behind. None of them did. But Sage was right. They weren't equipped for whatever was out there.

Not yet.

And chasing shadows rarely ended well—especially when those shadows had claws.

With nothing left to do, they turned and followed Tennin back toward the house, each step heavier than the last.

The whole investigation had only taken a few hours, so it was shortly after midday when they left Stonetrail Glen.

No one said much on the road. The sun sat heavy overhead. A breeze moved the tall grass along the trail, but it did little to ease the tension that clung to them like sweat.

Otter walked near the rear again, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his rapier. Every so often, he paused to glance behind them. The path was always empty. But the feeling persisted—like the space just beyond the edge of his vision was always occupied.

That evening, they set up camp off the road near a cluster of leaning rocks. Erin lit a small fire. Milo half-heartedly boiled water for their rations. No one felt like talking.

Otter stayed up for first watch. The stars blinked above him, cool and uncaring.

Somewhere in the darkness beyond the firelight, a twig snapped.

He stood quickly—but saw nothing. No shape. No eyes. Just the tall grass swaying in a breeze that had gone still.

When Sage relieved him for second watch, he didn't say anything. He just handed over the blanket and sat by the fire until sleep finally came.

***

Despite Otter's fears, no attack came in the middle of the night. And the next day brought a lightening mood. The tension that had clung to them like a second skin began to slough off with each step toward home. Erin even made a joke before breakfast—something about Milo trying to turn their campfire into a makeshift alchemy lab—and though it wasn't funny, they all laughed.

The danger, it seemed, was past. At least for them. The residents of Stonetrail Glen might feel differently.

They walked all morning, eating on the move to make good time. The road felt friendlier now, as though some invisible threshold had been crossed—whatever was out there hadn't followed them this far.

Soon after midday, the walls of Aurelia came into view.

Their steps quickened, feet aching but spirits lifted by the sight of civilization. Not the city itself, perhaps, but what it represented: safety, hot food, a soft bed. And paperwork.

Otter smiled faintly at the thought.

They passed through the southern gate with minimal questioning—flashing their temporary guild badges—and wound their way back through bustling streets to the squat, forgettable building that housed the Aurelia Adventurers' Guild.

It still looked far too small for what it contained.

Inside, it seemed oddly quiet. Like everyone had taken a summer vacation, and only a skeleton crew remained.

Sage led the way through the crowd and up to the clerk's desk.

The same ink-stained woman from their first visit looked up. "You're back early."

"We have a report," Sage said. "Kaosling presence liekly. Possibly a scout for a larger group."

That got the woman's attention. "One moment." She reached below the desk, pulled out a clipboard covered in layered glyphs, and tapped a sigil with the end of her quill. It pulsed briefly with light.

"Handler Greaves will see you. Second floor, east wing. Don't get lost."

Milo glanced at Otter. "There's a second floor?"

Otter shrugged. "Are you surprised?"

Milo looked thoughtful. "No. I guess not."

Handler Greaves listened without interrupting. Otter gave the account clearly, with Sage occasionally filling in details. When they reached the part about the bones, the missing dog, and Erin's discovery that the creature hadn't left the area, Greaves finally spoke. "Well, damn. That's new. You have a sketch, you say?"

Otter nodded and handed it over.

Greaves studied it carefully, grunted, then folded it up and clipped it to a page of notes he'd been taking. "Good work. I'm glad you didn't go running after that dog. If this thing really is an advance scout for a pack and they showed up, you'd be way in over your head. I'll send another team to dig into it. One that can handle a pack."

"We'd be happy to assist them," said Erin. Otter knew she was worried about Nell and being sent back would alleviate those worries.

"No," Greaves said flatly. "You did your job. Time to move on. We've got another job for you."