The tree they rested under was hardly a tree at all. Thin, wiry branches stretched crookedly toward the late afternoon sun, more scrub than shade, but it was enough to mark a place where they could sit and rest their legs.

  Maruzan leaned back against the rough bark, feeling it dig into his damp shirt. His shoulders ached, and his legs stretched out in the loamy grass, heavy from the day’s walk. Beside him, Velthur crouched with his arms wrapped around his knees, his dark hair clinging to his forehead. He was flushed from the heat, but proud of the sack that lay between them, half-filled with elderberries, their skins dark and shining like drops of ink.

  Maruzan reached for the canteen and handed it to him.

  “You did good today,” he said. His voice was calm, but there was sincerity behind the words. “Quick hands. Careful too. You’ve got your mother’s patience.”

  Velthur smiled faintly, took a careful sip, and handed it back. “Can we eat some?” he asked, already eyeing the berries.

  Maruzan shook his head. “Not raw. They’re safe enough once you boil them, or bake them into something. But raw? They’ll sour your stomach before nightfall. I don’t want to carry you home doubled over.”

  Velthur wrinkled his nose, disappointed but not surprised. “Then what do we eat?”

  Maruzan pulled out two pieces of hardtack from his satchel, flat, pale, and dry as stone. He offered one to Velthur and bit into his own. It cracked between his teeth like bark.

  “Sorry there’s no coffee,” he added, chewing slowly. “Would’ve softened the taste. Guess the stream water will have to do.”

  Velthur dunked his piece in the trickling stream nearby, between two moss-covered stones. He chewed it with a forced seriousness and then said, as dryly as the bread, “Tastes the same either way.”

  Maruzan let out a short laugh. For a moment it felt like the quiet days before all of this, just a father and son with nothing but bread and water.

  Then the sound came.

  A crunch. Subtle. Too controlled to be a bird. Too close to be a deer.

  Maruzan froze. His body tensed like a bowstring pulled taut. He raised his hand without a word, and Velthur stilled at once, his chewing stopped mid-bite.

  From the scrub came movement.

  The figure stepped into view: a kobold.

  It was lean, scarred, and carried itself with a kind of coiled patience Maruzan hadn’t seen often in their kind. No armor, just a leather harness strapped across its chest, and at its side a curved blade that gleamed faintly in the dappled light. Its scales were a dull red, mottled as if stained with ash. Yellow eyes locked on Maruzan, steady and unblinking, like a hawk fixed on its prey.

  Maruzan rose slowly to his feet. He put himself between the creature and Velthur. His hand went to the belt knife at his hip, but he did not draw it yet.

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  “You don’t want to do this,” he said evenly, keeping his voice level. “You’re alone. That’s not how your kind fights. So either you’re foolish... or very certain of yourself.”

  The kobold bared its teeth but said nothing. Its claws twitched at its side.

  Maruzan lifted one hand, palm open. “You can leave. Walk back the way you came. You saw nothing here. Just a father and his boy, gathering food. Leave it at that.”

  For a breath, the kobold tilted its head, studying him. Maruzan thought maybe, just maybe, it would retreat.

  Then it lunged.

  Bronze flashed in the sunlight.

  Maruzan barely had time to draw his knife and twist his body to catch the first strike. The blade glanced off, but the kobold was fast, faster than any human could match. It came again, slashing at his arm. He jerked back, but not far enough. A line of blood opened across his sleeve, shallow but burning.

  Velthur scrambled backward behind the tree, eyes wide. He bit his lip hard to keep from shouting.

  The kobold pressed forward, its movements sharp and relentless. Maruzan shifted his stance, feet sliding over the grass, every muscle working to keep the creature away from his son. Twice he blocked, once he sidestepped, each time feeling the rush of air as the blade missed him by inches.

  The kobold darted low, aiming for his legs. Maruzan dropped his elbow into its shoulder with all the weight he could muster. The creature staggered sideways with a hiss. For a moment it crouched again, circling, its eyes burning bright.

  Maruzan’s chest tightened with anger. He thought of all the times he had tried to keep his family safe and happy. And now, even here, when they were doing nothing but gathering food, the violence came again.

  “Not afraid to die?” he growled. His voice shook with the weight of it. “You should be.”

  The kobold lunged once more.

  This time, Maruzan sidestepped just enough. He caught the creature’s head in his grip and slammed it against the tree trunk. The dull crack rang through his arm. The kobold reeled but lashed out wildly, claws raking the air. Maruzan caught its wrist, twisted hard, and drove his knife under its ribs.

  A wet, wheezing sound escaped the kobold’s throat.

  For a heartbeat they stood tangled in silence, the violence hanging between them like a taut rope. Then the creature crumpled, falling to the earth with a soft thud.

  Maruzan stood over it, chest rising and falling heavily. The knife dripped. His sleeve burned.

  From behind the tree, Velthur’s voice broke the stillness. “Are you hurt?”

  Maruzan looked at his arm. Blood soaked the sleeve, but it was not deep. He exhaled. “I’ll live.”

  He crouched and turned the kobold over with his boot. No markings. No sigils. No signs of a warband. Just a blade, worn but cared for, and hunger in its eyes.

  Velthur stepped closer, his voice quieter now. “Why was it alone?”

  Maruzan shook his head. “I don’t know. But something has changed. They aren’t supposed to fight this way. Alone. Waiting like hunters.” He wiped the knife clean against the grass. “They’re bolder now. Smarter. Or maybe desperate.”

  Velthur’s gaze lingered on the body. He swallowed hard, his young face caught between fear and curiosity. “What if there are more?”

  “There could be,” Maruzan admitted. He forced himself to sound steady for the boy’s sake. “Which is why we need to go.”

  He reached for the sack of berries, slinging it over his shoulder. The weight felt heavier now. He looked at Velthur, who was still staring at the kobold’s body.

  “Don’t give it any more of your thoughts,” Maruzan said firmly. “It chose this path. You didn’t.”

  Velthur nodded reluctantly, though Maruzan could see the questions still pressing in his son’s eyes.

  They left the body where it lay, the tree’s thin shadow stretching over it like a shroud. The sound of the stream nearby, trickling peacefully, felt distant, as if muffled by what had just happened.