John remained hidden in the canopy.
By midday the forest had warmed, sunlight filtering through layers of leaves in long golden beams that painted shifting patterns across the ground. The air carried the smell of damp earth and moss, mixed with the faint scent of sap from the tall trees surrounding the elven village.
From above, the settlement looked calm—almost peaceful.
But John had already learned something important during the months he had lived in this forest.
Peace rarely lasted long.
It usually meant something dangerous simply hadn't appeared yet.
Below him, the elves continued their daily routines.
Villagers moved between wooden structures built around massive trees, carrying baskets, tools, and bundles of gathered plants. Smoke rose slowly from one of the cooking huts near the center of the clearing. Several children ran across the open space, laughing while an older elf called after them with clear frustration in her voice.
John watched quietly.
