Dawn spills gently over Eden, a soft weave of gold and violet across the wild’s edge—Oakenspire’s hum drifts faintly, carried on the morning breeze. Tobal rises smoothly, his wild hair matted with sweat, scarred hands resting firm—brown eyes linger westward, where the traitor’s shadow clings like a distant echo. Fiona stirs beside him, her red braid coiled loosely over her shoulder—green eyes gleam with quiet focus—her staff lies close, its vines curling slowly as if tasting the air. Rafe leans against the camp’s edge, hazel eyes glinting in the firelight—his dagger twirls zily as he murmurs: “Kin’s still out there, breathing our air.” Becca sits nearby, broad shoulders calm—blue eyes glow beneath her shaved scalp, axe cradled gently—yang simmers beneath her steady presence. Cal stands tall at the camp’s boundary, spear propped easily—gray eyes sweep the wild with a quiet intensity: “The roots hum—there’s a rift nearby.” Valentine prowls around them, shaggy gray fur rippling in the dawn—yellow eyes shine sharply—his low growl weaves through the stillness, catching the traitor’s scent.
The OAK roots murmur, their voice flowing smooth and low: “The rift’s breath deepens in the west.” Tobal’s scars tighten slightly—brown eyes harden with resolve: “They’re digging in near the west ridge.” Fiona nods, her green vines pulsing faintly: “It’s a rift in Eden—kin’s close now.” Rafe’s grin curves—his tone light: “Uncle’s found a hole—getting desperate.” Becca’s voice rumbles softly—“I’ll bury them in it.” Cal tilts his spear, gray eyes steady: “We need to move.” Valentine slips forward, a gray shadow gliding west—Chaos thickens in the air—Oakenspire’s hum follows—Fiona’s voice rises cleanly: “Let’s go now.”
Storm glides through the wild, midnight hooves flowing over the earth—Tobal rides low, scars warm under the wind, brown eyes fixed on the western horizon. Fiona spurs Bze beside him, red braid trailing like a fme—her staff hums softly, green eyes cutting through the morning mist. Becca rides with them, axe swaying at her side—yang stirs beneath her calm—blue eyes catch the dawn’s light, shaved head shining. Rafe moves swiftly alongside, wiry frame threading the path—hazel eyes glint as he says: “They’re cornered—I’d bet on it.” Cal strides smoothly, tall shadow unbroken—spear steady in his grip, gray eyes sweep the way ahead—Knights blend into the chase—Valentine leads, shaggy grace bounding forward—traitor’s scent sharpens—Eden’s wild thickens around them—OAKs sigh in the breeze—Fiona calls out: “The ridge—it’s near.”
The west ridge rises before them, trees weaving a dense curtain—a rift breathes faintly, bck mist coiling in the air—traitor stands within, hooded and scaled, OAK bde catching dawn’s gleam—kin’s eyes burn cold beneath the hood—shadow deepens as golden warmth fades. Tobal’s whip uncoils gracefully—scars fre—steel strikes through the mist—traitor weaves them aside. Fiona’s vines surge forward—green tendrils weave through the air—staff pulses with life—traitor slips free. Rafe’s daggers fsh in silver arcs—his grin flickers: “No running now—I’ve caught you.” Becca’s axe sweeps wide—yang ignites—blue eyes bze—steel bites the air—traitor parries, OAK steel ringing clear. Cal’s spear glides effortlessly—tall frame shields—gray eyes steady—Val’s teeth snap at scales—traitor staggers—rift swells briefly—bck breath thickens—OAKs groan—traitor hisses low: “The rift’s mine—Eden will break.”
Fiona drops lightly—green eyes lock—staff fres—vines tighten—her breath steadies: “Kin—they’ve cimed the rift.” Tobal pauses, brown eyes darkening—his voice cuts through: “Who are you?” Rafe’s grin twists—words slip out: “Uncle’s scared—pathetic.” Becca’s grip firms—blue eyes fre—her growl rises: “End this now!” Cal’s gray eyes soften—spear dips—his murmur flows: “The roots breathe—it’s old kin.” Valentine lunges—yellow eyes bite—teeth tear—traitor reels—rift pulses once—bck fades—OAKs hum—hood falls—scars gleam—kin’s mark shows—traitor stumbles west—wild closes around them.
They halt—Storm snorts gently—Tobal’s scars shine—brown eyes track—boots press the earth. Fiona holds Bze—red braid settles—staff dims—green eyes linger—vines rex. Rafe spins his dagger—ughs low: “Kin’s pinned—still slippery.” Becca’s yang cools—axe rests—blue eyes soften—Knights stand—wild hums around them. Cal’s spear settles—tall shadow—gray eyes sweep—Valentine circles—shaggy guard—Oakenspire echoes—roots weave—OAK whispers: “Rift’s breath—west holds.” Day 15 fades—sun peaks—traitor’s shadow clings—Eden steadies—Knights breathe—the hunt tightens.
