An Hour Ago
Ryn slumped against Mira's back, the roasted rabbit settling heavy in his stomach. His amber eyes drifted half-closed, lethargy tugging his body as shadows wrapped him like a warm blanket in the night's chill.
Mira's steady stride rocked him gently, her warmth a quiet anchor.
Then, a jolt snapped him alert—his senses flared, sharp and primal.
His gaze locked onto a faint heat signature, two hundred meters back, barely a shimmer against the dark. It wasn't just a body; it was a predator, cloaked in shadow, hiding with skill that prickled his instincts.
Most amateurs with powers were easy to catch on a night like this—the subtlest muscle twitch bleeding heat, a breath warping the air's flow, a misplaced shadow shifting against the moonlight.
The high ranking Superhero's heightened senses caught everything: the pulse of a heartbeat humming through the ground, the whisper of energy restrained, the distortion of ambient warmth where breath should have vanished clean.
