Karak walked along the rugged, muddy trail heading southeast, immersed in a cold, barren forest. Little sunlight filtered through the dry branches and sparse, multicolored leaves of the trees, casting the underbrush in dim silence. Almost devoid of natural sounds. This unsettled him deeply. Accustomed to such sounds, their absence made him uneasy. For this reason, each time the path curved back southward, he slowed his pace slightly to savor, among the vegetation, at least the gurgle of the brook rushing noisily in the deep rocky channel beside him, several meters below. A welcome companion on the journey. Much more so than the five individuals with whom he was traveling. To his eyes, they were peculiar. Very peculiar.

Walking a few steps ahead of them, he turned briefly to study them as they conversed. There was a middle-aged man with long brown hair, the conspicuous insignias on his ostentatious armor hinting at some deity associated with light, carried himself with an air of pride and formality. A young man with faint elvish features, good-looking and bearing an expression as serious as it was determined. Another man not quite thirty, with strange features, pale bluish skin, and thick, long dark hair. And finally, there were two sisters with eyes and hair as black as a starless night. They were closely bonded yet remarkably different. One was impulsive, physical, and taciturn, while the other was a skilled enchantress with sharp and beguiling rhetoric. All of them were quite adept at handling difficult situations in their own ways, as demonstrated in the abandoned mansion. And all were extremely vague about their reasons for traveling through the Valley. The sisters, at least, had been less tight-lipped, admitting to being adventurers hired by a wealthy "client" to shed light on the mysteries of the land. A rather ambitious, likely unrealistic goal. Yet it was enough to convince the others to follow them, bolstered by the camaraderie forged during their shared ordeal at the mansion.

Fate and necessity had forced them to collaborate, but somehow, the bond they formed proved solid. Working together for this "client" seemed a good way to maintain that connection and pursue their personal, enigmatic goals. Karak, however, found this behavioral dynamic of other races incomprehensible. Snorting, he returned his gaze to the path winding through the barren vegetation ahead of him, walking with his hunched posture and swaying gait. Despite his doubts, he thought to himself, he would stay with them for now. It was the smartest thing to do. He cared little for the mysteries of the Valley or for relationships with other people. But he would play along, at least for now. Traveling with those five was convenient even for him in a world where he trusted others even less. Especially considering their destination—a town about two days’ walk to the southeast, which he had visited briefly in the past. A place where he preferred not to act alone and which might hold answers or at least clues to his purpose.

Instinctively, he looked at his large, clawed hands, lingering on the irregular lines between the worn greenish scales of his palms. “I will find out why this was done to me,” he muttered, “no matter the cost…” Clenching his fists tightly, he imbued those words with added determination. Then he refocused on the path before him, paved with a thin, seemingly endless carpet of dark leaves, and the forest flanking him on both sides. He was accustomed to scanning his surroundings while traveling—a habit he had no intention of abandoning. Always expecting and fearing the worst had saved his life many times in the past. Seeing nothing strange or suspicious as he carefully surveyed the shadowy vegetation, he felt a bit more at ease. But only briefly. For almost immediately after, a chill ran down his spine, rippling across his scaly back. A familiar shiver of anticipation.

He instinctively looked to the sky, but the countless dry branches and sparse foliage forming an endless natural vault overhead prevented him from seeing as clearly as he wished. So, he relied on his other senses. Sniffing the air deeply and repeatedly, he flicked his long, forked tongue in front of his slightly open jaws. It took only moments for him to confirm what his sixth sense had already predicted. "The wind is changing; it’ll rain within a couple of hours," he thought, confident in his prediction. He didn’t mind the idea too much. Traveling in a storm could be bothersome, but he didn’t dislike the feel of cold raindrops sliding over his scales. A bitter smile crossed his face as he realized he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the downpour as he wished. The wide hooded cloak he used to conceal his nature and appearance during his travels would prevent it. Another reason to be in a sour mood. Shaking his head in a mix of amusement and resignation, he suddenly heard something that caught his attention.

Up ahead along the road, beyond the thicket, he thought he heard a scream. A loud, human scream, quickly swallowed by the vegetation. He slowed his pace, listening intently and focusing all his senses on discerning its nature and source. A few moments passed, and he heard another scream. And then another. And another still. A series of angry yet pained cries from different voices, a confused cacophony devoid of apparent order. He immediately stopped in the middle of the path, raising his arm decisively with an open hand to signal his traveling companions to halt and remain silent. Once he ensured they complied, he acted on instinct. Moving noiselessly, he left the five behind and veered off the path into the undergrowth. Crouching as low as possible, he began creeping through the tall grass and underbrush, slithering across the muddy ground like a giant serpent. He advanced several paces southward as the vegetation thinned, and the cries grew louder and nearer.

Then, reaching a large ash tree at the forest's edge, he rose and hid behind its wide, mossy trunk. From there, with an excellent vantage point, he could finally understand what was happening. A short distance ahead, where the path curved more sharply southward and intersected another trail coming from the west, the forest grew less dense. At the crossroads, a narrow, dilapidated stone bridge overgrown with ivy connected the second trail to the first, offering a safe crossing over the deep rocky channel where the brook flowed. And right there, near the muddy, puddle-strewn junction, a carriage was under attack by what appeared to be common bandits. While the driver desperately tried to keep the vehicle moving and calm the horses, the assailants had encircled it, met with resistance from armed guards defending the carriage. The clash was in full swing, and the battle cries of the combatants now mingled clearly with the frightened neighing of horses and the metallic clash of swords and shields.

Observing the scene, Karak felt more annoyed than intrigued. “Damn it, just what I needed,” he muttered, clawing the tree bark with frustration. "Nothing ever goes my way...".