The walk took longer than it looked.
The path wound through cleared lanes cut into the forest, temporary lights strung between trees, their glow muted beneath thick branches overhead.
The ground was packed dirt and crushed leaves, marked by tire tracks and boot prints layered over one another. No one walked shoulder to shoulder. Spacing was precise—two, sometimes three meters apart—enough room to move, enough room to react.
Don noticed the shift immediately.
So did everyone else.
No one spoke.
Not because they didn't want to—but because too many of those present could hear too much. Superhuman hearing, enhanced perception, passive sensory abilities. A careless whisper could travel farther than intended. So instead, they watched.
Eyes moved. Heads turned in small increments. Postures were read and catalogued.
Everyone here was strong. That much was obvious.
