The Edge of the Deep Forest

The roofs of Oberried vanish behind them as the path climbs. Here, the forest grows older—trunks thicker, branches tangled like a refactor that no one dared to finish. Sunlight slips through in thin, reluctant stripes.

Gord stops beside a fallen spruce and draws her sword.
With slow, deliberate movements, she sharpens the blade. Each stroke rings softly, the forest seeming to listen.

Rothütle glances around.
"Do you really expect trouble this soon?"

"We're closing on Jack's domain," she replies without looking up. "It doesn't hurt to be prepared."

He forces a small breath through his nose. "I thought we were going to talk to him. You hired me to translate after all."

"It's not Jack who worries me," she added, putting the sharpening stone away. "Let's move."

"I thought you would give me a hint on what worries you," Rothütle presses. Gord kept walking.

They move on together, leaving the last familiar clearing behind. Soon, there was a sound like distant footsteps among the trees...

---

Tip of the day. Keep your tools updated to avoid surprises in critical moments.

---