RAGNA POV…
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My posture mirrored the martial artists I had once watched back on Earth. My back curved, muscles tense and protruding. My legs spread wide, digging into the forest floor. My hips shifted back, grounding me completely.
I exhaled.
Then clenched my fist.
The punch landed.
The tree shuddered violently—but didn't break.
So I hit it again.
And again.
Bark chipped away. Indentations formed where my fists struck deep into the trunk. I kept punching, counting each strike, carefully recording my limits.
Eventually I stopped counting.
I had grown so used to being alone in the woods, surrounded by the vibrations of my own fists and legs, that I forgot something important.
I wasn't alone.
After a few kicks, I froze.
Standing upright, I slowly turned my gaze toward the left side of the forest.
Something was there.
And it was watching me.
The odd sound I thought I had heard earlier was definitely getting closer—closer in my direction.
That alone was strange.
