Storm over the Grasslands
After buying what he needed, Victor and his party headed out. The last sighting of the Ashgrey wolves, was at the path in the grasslands where the merchants usually pass by coming from Helios City to west.
The city walls soon fell behind them.
Stone gave way to wind.
Noise gave way to distance.
The road stretched through tall grass that rolled like green waves beneath the late sun, whispering with every gust. The merchant path cut a pale scar through the plains, wagon ruts hardened by years of trade… and stained, perhaps, by blood.
Lane walked at Victor's left.
Clara to his right.
Neither spoke much.
The mood had shifted.
This was no longer guild talk and speculation.
This was approach.
Hunt.
The grasslands felt strangely alive.
Too still in places.
Too quiet.
Even birds avoided certain stretches.
Clara noticed it first.
"…No scavengers," she muttered.
Victor nodded.
"Territorial predators keep the smaller things away."
