As Kaya crouched by the river, cleaning the fish with her small knife, her hands moved with practiced ease, but her mind remained on high alert. Her focus was on the fish—on the rhythm of her blade slicing through its slick body—but she couldn't ignore the faint, lingering presence she'd noticed a short distance away.
Someone was watching her.
They had been for a while now.
Still, Kaya didn't turn around. Instead, she kept humming softly, letting her voice drift with the breeze.
"Hmm… lala la, lala laaa..."
Her tone was light, casual even, but her eyes had gone cold—sharp and focused under the surface.
Once she finished cleaning the fish, she rose to her feet and began walking back toward the cave. Yet again, that presence followed. Silent, careful. They didn't make a single sound—no snapped twigs, no shifting leaves. If it weren't for her training and years of experience, she might not have noticed at all.
But she did.
