The morning air was thick with the scent of damp earth and smoke, a mix of last night's fire and the ever-present scent of the dense forest surrounding them.
Cassian stretched out his arms, rolling his shoulders as he stepped out of his tent. The bandit encampment was already coming alive—voices overlapping, the clang of metal, the smell of cooking meat drifting through the cold morning air.
Just another day.
He ducked under a low-hanging branch, making his way toward the central fire pit, where several of the others were hunched around, eating and talking.
"Oi, Cass!" a voice called out.
He turned to see Jem approaching, a cocky grin plastered on his face, as usual.
"Got a job for us today, or are we all just sittin' around scratchin' our asses?"
Cassian snorted, grabbing a strip of roasted rabbit from the communal spit over the fire. "Patrol duty. Roads near the eastern ridge. Nothing exciting."
Jem groaned, flopping down onto a fallen log. "We haven't had a proper score in weeks. We're just babysitting wagonsat this point."
Cassian took a bite of his food, chewing thoughtfully. "The captains are being careful. Too many merchants have gone missing lately—too much attention. We don't want the city sending hunters after us."
Jem scoffed. "Cowards, all of them. If we had any real sense, we'd be makin' moves while everyone else is scared."
A sharp laugh cut through their conversation.
Cassian turned to see Nia lounging against a nearby tree, sharpening her dagger.
"Yeah, Jem, because you would definitely survive a run-in with bounty hunters," she said, smirking. "I give you what—three minutes?"
Jem clutched his chest mockingly. "You wound me, Nia. Where's the faith?"
"In the ground, where you'd be if you pulled some dumb shit," she replied.
Cassian grinned, shaking his head. The three of them had grown up together—orphans taken in by the camp, raised under the watchful eyes of the older bandits, learning the trade as they got older.
It wasn't a luxurious life, but it was the only one they knew.
Across the camp, a group of younger recruits were practicing knife work, a few of them struggling to land proper hits. The more seasoned members sat around, cleaning their weapons, checking their gear, preparing for the day ahead.
At the far end, near the old wooden watchtower, Cassian spotted Ronan and the other lieutenants speaking in hushed voices.
That meant something was going on.
He made a mental note to find out later.
For now, he had a long day ahead.
And if he was lucky, maybe something interesting would finally happen.
In the end, the three of them were tasked with accompanying Ronan on a scavenging mission, in search for any weak and vulnerable adventurers they could easily pick off and rob. They set out late that night.
*
The forest stretched endlessly before them, a twisting labyrinth of ancient trees and winding trails. The air smelled of damp earth and pine, the scent clinging to their clothes as they moved silently through the underbrush.
Cassian adjusted the strap of his satchel, glancing over at Jem, who was flicking his dagger between his fingers with absent ease.
"We've been out here for hours," Jem muttered. "Feels like we're huntin' ghosts."
"You'd rather be back at camp twiddling your thumbs?" Nia asked, brushing stray leaves from her tunic.
"Depends," Jem grinned. "You plannin' on keepin' me entertained?"
Nia rolled her eyes. "I'd rather set myself on fire."
"Now that'd be entertaining," Cassian added dryly.
Jem groaned. "You lot have no appreciation for my charm."
Ahead of them, Ronan signaled for silence.
The group halted immediately, instincts sharpening.
Cassian followed Ronan's gaze up the hill, where the trees thinned out. Dawn was just breaking, light creeping over the horizon.
Through the shifting branches, Cassian saw it—a small makeshift shelter, barely visible through the foliage.
A fire had long since burned out, but embers still smoldered in the pit.
Two figures lay inside, wrapped in thick blankets.
Cassian's heart picked up pace.
"Travelers," Ronan murmured. "Two of 'em."
Cassian scanned the site—minimal supplies, a few bags piled beside the shelter.
They looked like easy targets.
"Think they got anything good?" Jem whispered.
Ronan's eyes gleamed.
"We're about to find out."
Cassian kept his eyes fixed on the two sleeping figures, his breath slow and measured. This was routine—watch, assess, strike. But still, his pulse beat harder than it should.
Nia whispered. "Doesn't look like they've got much, but we don't know if they're armed."
Jem scoffed. "Doesn't matter. They're fast asleep, and there's four of us."
"Five, if you count your big mouth," Nia muttered.
Cassian didn't join in the teasing. He was watching the older man in the shelter, the way he lay with his back slightly turned but with one hand still resting close to his belt.
That wasn't the sleep of a fool.
"That one's got experience," he murmured, nodding towards the older man.
Ronan followed his gaze and narrowed his eyes.
"Yeah," he agreed. "That one's a fighter."
Cassian's fingers tightened around the hilt of his knife. He'd been on enough raids to know a man like that didn't go down easily.
"He's old," Jem said dismissively. "We handle him first, and the kid'll fold."
"The kid's barely more than a stray," Nia murmured.
She was right—he didn't look like much.
Cassian studied him.
Lanky. Not much muscle. Travel-worn clothes.
But there was something else.
A tension even in sleep, like he didn't quite belong here.
Cassian didn't like that.
"Ronan," he said quietly. "What's the plan?"
Ronan crouched lower, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"We move fast," he said. "Jem, Nia, you take the kid. Cassian, you and I deal with the old one. We go in quiet. If he wakes up—" he made a subtle motion with his dagger.
Cassian nodded.
"On my mark," Ronan whispered.
They moved silently through the underbrush, their boots muffled by the damp earth.
Cassian's grip tightened on his knife.
One step.
Two.
Then—
Ronan moved.
The others followed.
And the camp erupted into chaos