The morning mist slowly dissipated in the forest of Gray Snake Canyon.
Tall pine trees stood like sentinels on the hillside.
The canopy blocked out the sky, with only sporadic sunlight filtering through the gaps.
Five soldiers from the third patrol team of Black Pine Ridge moved through the forest.
They wore leather armor, had longswords at their waists, and carried hunting bows on their backs.
Alertness was written on each of their faces.
Captain Martin led the way.
This veteran with seven years of military experience sharply scanned the area ahead.
Having crossed the hill, Martin suddenly stopped and raised his right hand, giving a signal to halt.
Without any words needed, the soldiers instinctively crouched and cautiously observed their surroundings.
"Look over there."
Martin lowered his voice, pointing to a large pine tree ahead.
The trunk bore obvious claw marks.
The bark was completely torn, each mark as thick as a finger.
"No ordinary beast could cause this."
