The white tiger beneath Ethan's feet was a silent witness to the scene unfolding in the distance.
Ormund's voice rumbled low, breaking the quiet. "Ethan, I do believe we're being ignored."
"As I can see!" Ethan's displeasure was tangible. Was he judged to be a mere kitten or something?
Below, Uncle Jed gave the silver spear he'd been dragging a slight shake. He tucked the butt beneath his arm, the dragon-headed tip angled forward. It was a simple technique—Pathfinder's Guidance—but in his hands, it became something else entirely. With a sudden thrust, the spear surged ahead, a silver gleam cutting through the dim light. It felt less like a weapon and more like a living extension of the man himself, hurtling toward the monster with terrifying speed.
