James nodded slightly, letting the girl gather her thoughts while he kept his attention on their surroundings.
The forest's eerie stillness wasn't comforting—it was unsettling. Whatever had happened to them wasn't just a simple attack, and the weight in her voice told him that there was more to the story than she was ready to say outright.
He adjusted his stance, motioning for them to start moving while keeping his bow in hand. "Walk and talk," he said, ensuring they understood that time wasn't a luxury they had.
The girl took a breath, eyes flickering between James and the wounded man before she finally spoke.
"They weren't bandits," she repeated, her voice quieter this time. "They moved like hunters. Organized. Precise. Not like thieves looking for easy prey."
James frowned slightly but didn't interrupt.
"They weren't after supplies," she continued. "They were after us."
That made his stomach turn. An attack wasn't uncommon—there were always risks outside the village—but a targeted attack?That was a different kind of trouble.
"Why you?" James finally asked, keeping his voice low but firm.
The girl hesitated, gripping her sister's hand more tightly.
"Because of who we are," she admitted.
James stiffened. The situation had just shifted from dangerous to something far worse.
James kept moving, guiding them through the thick undergrowth, his grip firm on his bow. The older girl walked briskly beside him, her face still pale but her movements steady, driven by urgency.
"They weren't just after us for money," she admitted, her voice tight with frustration. "They were after us. Specifically."
James frowned, glancing at her. That changed things. If this was a targeted pursuit, then whoever orchestrated it had planned ahead—they knew exactly who they were looking for.
The younger girl clutched her sister's sleeve tighter, her small frame trembling slightly. The older girl noticed and swallowed hard, exhaling sharply before continuing.
"They knew our names," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "They knew who we were before they even attacked."
James felt the weight of those words settle in his chest. Whoever these attackers were, they had information—and that meant this wasn't just some random assault.
"I—" the girl started, her voice hesitant, "I think I know why. Who we are. But—"
She was cut off.
The injured man, despite his exhaustion, tensed sharply and shot her a firm look. "Don't," he said, his tone serious, warning laced through his voice.
The girl stiffened, hesitating for only a moment before pressing her lips together.
James narrowed his eyes. He knew something.Something important—something dangerous.
James didn't let it slide. He caught the way the man's tone shifted, the sharpness in his eyes—he was hiding something. And whatever it was, it mattered.
James stepped closer, his expression unwavering. "You know something," he said flatly. "You knew they'd be targeted before this even happened, didn't you?"
The injured man tensed, but he didn't immediately deny it. His fingers curled against the dirt, his jaw tightening as if weighing his options.
The older girl glanced between them, uncertainty flickering across her face. James could see it—the doubt creeping in, the realization that maybe she didn't know everything either.
"I need to know," James pressed, his voice calm but firm. "If I'm walking blind into something bigger, that's a problem."
The man exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration evident. For a moment, he didn't speak, but then—
"They're valuable," he muttered, his voice lower now, as if the weight of his words carried danger. "Not just to the village. To people beyond it."
James narrowed his eyes. "What kind of people?"
The man hesitated, his grip tightening on his side, but before he could answer, the younger girl whimpered, clutching at her sister's sleeve in distress.
James instinctively scanned their surroundings—then, he heard it.
A sound.
Distant, but distinct.
A presence.
Something—or someone—was out there.
The injured man let out a sharp breath, frustration evident in the tightness of his expression. He shifted slightly, adjusting his weight against the tree as if the conversation itself was becoming just as exhausting as his wounds.
"It's… a family issue," he muttered, his tone carrying both reluctance and finality.
James didn't miss the way the older girl stiffened at those words. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her sister's sleeve, tension creeping back into her frame—not just fear, but discomfort.
Family. That explained why their pursuers weren't just random mercenaries or thieves. This was personal.
James kept his expression neutral, though his mind raced. A family issue serious enough to warrant an ambush in the forest, with skilled hunters instead of common brigands—that wasn't something to take lightly.
Before he could press further, the distant rustling grew louder.
The presence wasn't distant anymore. It was closing in.
James didn't waste time. The approaching presence was a problem—if they were skilled like the attackers before, engaging in the open would be reckless.
"We need to move," he said sharply, his voice low but firm. He motioned for the older girl to help her sister up while he turned to the injured man.
"You still good to walk?"
The man exhaled sharply, pushing himself upright with some difficulty. "Not well, but I can move."
That would have to do. James scanned the terrain, searching for a more defensible position. The undergrowth was thick, and further ahead, he spotted a narrow slope leading toward a cluster of dense trees—good cover, limited visibility for anyone trying to find them.
"This way," he directed, keeping his steps controlled as he led them toward the thicket. The girls moved quickly, staying close, while the injured man lagged slightly but kept pace.
The rustling behind them grew louder.
James tightened his grip on his bow, keeping his senses sharp. Whoever was out there—they were getting closer.
As they reached the slope, James guided them behind the thickest patch of trees, positioning them in a way that kept them concealed. He crouched low, scanning back toward the clearing, watching for signs of movement.
James acted quickly, guiding the group into the shadows of the dense thicket, positioning them in a way that kept them concealed. The younger girl trembled slightly, gripping her sister's hand, while the injured man leaned against the bark, breathing heavily but alert.
He crouched low, carefully nocking an arrow, keeping his bow raised but not drawn—ready, but waiting. The forest was still tense, the rustling growing nearer, but he needed to see before he acted.
Through a small gap in the foliage, he watched the clearing.
The first figure emerged—a tall, cloaked individual, moving with precision rather than aimless wandering. Their posture was controlled, their eyes scanning carefully. A hunter.
Then, another. And another.
Three figures now, all dressed in dark travel gear, each carrying weapons suited for efficiency rather than brute force. They weren't random brigands; these were trained individuals, and their movements carried purpose.
James kept his breath even, muscles coiled. The injured man beside him stiffened slightly, gaze locked onto the approaching figures.
"They're still searching," James murmured low enough for only them to hear. "Not random patrols. Focused."
The older girl swallowed hard, her knuckles white around her sister's hand.
James had two choices—wait longer to gather more intelligence on their movements, or strike first while they were still unaware of his presence.
James didn't hesitate.
His grip tightened around his bow, his breath steady as he aimed at the lead figure. He had the advantage—concealed, unseen, and positioned at the perfect angle for a swift and decisive first strike.
He released the arrow.
It flew true, cutting through the air in a silent streak before embedding itself into the target's shoulder with a sharp **thunk.** The man grunted in surprise, his body recoiling from the impact—but before he could react properly, James was already moving.
The forest erupted into motion.
The other two figures immediately turned toward the direction of the attack, their hands snapping to their weapons. James ducked low, swiftly nocking another arrow as he calculated his next shot.
Behind him, the injured man clenched his jaw, trying to brace himself despite his wounds. The older girl pulled her sister back, shielding her as she pressed close to the thick tree trunks.
James had disrupted their search—but now, they knew they weren't alone.