Page 27 of The Naga Lord's Pretty Little Mouse

She does not understand what she has stepped into.

Nagaland is not forgiving to the fragile. The creatures lurking in the shadows do not hesitate. The vines that curl from the trees are more than decoration.

She thinks she is free.

She thinks she is alone.

I will show her how wrong she is.

The moment I step beyond the gates, the trail is fresh, a trail of dampened footsteps over thick vines, broken twigs bent at angles no beast would have disturbed.

She moves carefully, but not like prey.

Not stumbling, not frantic.

She is walking into the jungle as if it is hers to challenge.

I follow without sound, my tail coiling and uncoiling over the thick roots, claws barely grazing the damp soil. The night swallows unnecessary noise, the vines above pulsing faintly with light as if feeding from the tension between predator and prey.

I let her have the illusion of distance.

Let her think she has won this round.

Something shifts.

Not her.

Something else.

A new scent drifts through the tangled undergrowth, not animal, not naga.

Something more dangerous.

Something ancient and cold.

Dark elves.

I lower myself slightly, moving more carefully, gaze scanning the jungle until I see them.

Three of them, partially hidden, their lean figures barely noticeable among the shifting foliage. They move like hunters, precise and soundless, their crimson eyes gleaming as they scan the darkness.

They are searching for someone.

A low hum curls in my chest, something close to amusement.

Are they here for me?

Unlikely.

A bounty, perhaps. A target in Kario, some foolish noble who crossed Jalith’s kind once too often.

I consider passing them by.

Until the nearest one turns, his voice low, deliberate. “She was here.”

I still.

A breath’s hesitation before my muscles coil, my claws flexing in the thick undergrowth.

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