Shi Yan writes first
He comes out of the trees without a sound, which in the Dark Forest should be impossible. The firelight finds a gaunt young man, skin stretched over bone, in expensive clothes that hang off him like a borrowed tent. No weapon. A crimson ring on his left hand that seems to drink the light.
Your blade is up. He looks at it, then at you, and something like pleasure crosses his face.
“Good reflexes. Keep it there if it makes you feel better.” His voice is hoarse, relaxed, faintly amused. “I’ve had a strange few days. Woke up in a cave full of corpses, took a bath in something that tried to eat my soul.” He sniffs the air. “Is that meat?”
He crouches by the fire, close enough that you could kill him if you were fast. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seems curious whether you’ll try.
“Here’s a deal. You feed me and point me toward the nearest city.” His eyes meet yours, steady and bright. “And I’ll tell you what’s been following your caravan for the last hour.”
