Olmo approached them, his boots crunching against the forest floor as he surveyed the scene before him. The three dabba corpses lay scattered across the clearing, their massive forms still and silent in the fading light. He was clearly impressed by how they had done, his usual stoic expression softening just slightly at the corners of his eyes.
"Nice job, you two," Olmo said, his voice carrying a note of genuine approval that neither Jelo nor Mira heard very often. He folded his arms across his chest, nodding slowly as he took in the evidence of their battle—the scorched earth, the claw marks gouged into tree trunks, the way the dabbas had clearly put up a serious fight before going down.
"Now onto you, Jelo," Olmo continued, gesturing toward the nearest dabba carcass. "Go ahead and take the heart. You need it."
