The five of them walked down the main path, passing the market square where merchants haggled over goods while thick-cloaked villagers gathered in small groups, their breath misting as they muttered about the latest news. A few elders stood near the steps of the central longhouse, their expressions grave as they spoke in hushed tones.

Before they could even process what their next move would be, Elara nudged Thalos.

"The elders look troubled again."

Thalos followed her gaze, noticing a group of elders gathered near the steps of the Great Hall, their voices low, their faces tight.

"They always do," he muttered. "Probably another dispute about food or wolves."

"Or something worse," Orin added under his breath.

Before Thalos could ask what he meant, Brynn suddenly veered off course, her steps quick and deliberate.

"Alright!... EVERYONE FOLLOW ME!"

She stood in the middle of the path, one arm outstretched, pointing in a completely random direction.

"Brynn" Thalos groaned, already knowing that tone.

"Don't say my name like that," she said. "Like you're not going to follow me anyway."

She led them toward a cluster of storage sheds near the back of the market—small wooden structures where traders kept excess supplies, always locked, always off-limits.

A perfect challenge.

"Brynn, if we get caught—" Elara started, but Brynn waved her off.

"We won't. We never do."

"That's a lie," Garrick muttered.

Brynn shot him a look. "I never get caught." She turned back to the storage shed, inspecting the lock with a glint in her eye. "I heard the blacksmith left early today. That means no one's watching the extra stores of coal."

"And we need coal... because?" Orin asked.

Brynn scoffed. "Does it really matter?"

Thalos crossed his arms. "We don't need coal. And I don't feel like getting another lecture from my father."

"Oh, come on, Thalos," Brynn said, flashing that mischievous grin. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"My sense of adventure is just fine," he shot back. "Your ideas are always just crazy."

The others snickered, but none of them walked away. Thalos already knew what that meant

Because trouble had never stopped them before.

Brynn knelt beside the shed's wooden door, inspecting the lock with narrowed eyes. "Simple enough," she muttered, glancing over her shoulder. "Thalos, keep watch. Orin, help me pry this loose."

Orin paled slightly. "What? No. I—"

"You're the quietest," Brynn interrupted, a wicked grin flashing across her face. "And that means you're the best at not getting caught."

Thalos bit back a chuckle as Orin's expression turned into a mix of horror and reluctant acceptance. With a heavy sigh, he stepped forward, crouching beside Brynn as she tested the lock.

"Garrick, Elara, you two keep an eye out," Thalos murmured. The last thing they needed was a passing villager ruining the fun before it even began.

Garrick huffed. "Fine, but if I get blamed for this, I'm dragging Brynn down with me."

Elara crossed her arms, unimpressed. "You're always the first one to run. Somehow, I doubt that."

As Orin hesitated, Brynn handed him a rusted metal rod she'd swiped from a pile of discarded tools. "Just slide it in and push—slowly," she whispered. "We just need to shift the latch."

Thalos scanned the market square, heart pounding lightly. The elders were still deep in discussion, unaware of their antics. A few traders meandered past, but no one paid them any mind.

Orin hesitated, the lock groaning softly under his grip. Thalos's breath caught. Just a little more—

Then, a sharp voice cut through the air.

"Hey! What do you lot think you're doing?!"

The words sent a jolt through them all. Orin flinched so violently that he nearly toppled over, the lockpick clattering onto the frozen ground.

Thalos whirled around, dread pooling in his stomach.

An elder, wrapped in thick furs, stood just beyond the sheds, eyes narrowed and cane pointed directly at them.

Brynn cursed under her breath. "Run!"

They bolted through the market, their boots kicking up loose snow. The streets of Frosthelm twisted around them, past wooden homes, steaming forges, and bustling shops. But there was no mistaking the swift movement behind them.

The hunting party had spotted them.

Frostfoxes darted ahead of their handlers, silver-white blurs weaving between the buildings. Trained to react quickly to any disruption in the town, their sharp eyes locked onto the fleeing troublemakers.

"Split up!" Brynn barked, already veering toward a side alley. Garrick followed, their laughter fading as they ducked out of sight.

Thalos, Orin, and Elara weren't so lucky.

Two hunters cut off their escape, their frostfoxes circling them with practiced ease. Moments later, the elders caught up, their expressions unreadable beneath thick woolen hoods.

A hunter stepped forward, his frostfox padding silently at his side. "Where are the other two?" His tone was flat, as if he already knew the answer.

"Well," one of them muttered, shaking his head. "Why doesn't this surprise me?"

The elder let out a slow, measured sigh, his expression caught between irritation and reluctant amusement. "You three again," he muttered, shaking his head. "You'd think you'd have learned by now."

Thalos shifted uneasily, glancing at Orin, whose face had gone pale, his fingers twitching at his sides. Elara, on the other hand, stood tall, her arms crossed, as if daring them to punish her.

Thalos swallowed hard. There was no chance he was about to give up Brynn and Garrick. Not that it mattered—the elders would know exactly who was behind this.

Elara tilted her chin up just slightly. "We lost them in the market," she said smoothly. "They ran before we could do anything."

The hunter snorted, unconvinced, but the elder only sighed. "It doesn't matter. We'll deal with them later." His sharp gaze landed on Thalos. "And you," the elder said, his voice heavy with disappointment. "Your father will hear about this. Again."

Thalos kept his mouth shut. He wasn't about to argue with an elder—not when he was already in trouble.

"Take them to the hall," the elder said, turning to the hunters. "We'll decide what to do with them there."

Orin let out a soft, defeated groan, while Elara rolled her eyes but didn't protest. Thalos exhaled slowly, glancing once more in the direction Brynn and Garrick had disappeared. They were probably hiding somewhere, watching, laughing at their escape. The elders wasted no time.

The moment Thalos, Orin, and Elara were rounded up, they were marched straight toward the Great Hall, the heavy wooden doors looming ahead like the entrance to a trial.

The hunters didn't even need to speak. As soon as the doors swung open, several elders turned, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and growing irritation.

A stern-looking woman at the center of the hall tapped her cane against the floor sharply. Marta.

"Enough." Her voice cut through the room like a blade of ice. "Bring them forward."

Thalos felt his stomach sink.

Marta was the one elder you didn't want to cross. While others had their moments of leniency, she believed in discipline, order, and consequences.

The Great Hall was dimmer than usual, its usual flickering firelight nearly overshadowed by the massive carved antler hanging overhead. Its glow pulsed gently, casting shifting blue hues over the elders' lined faces.

A few of them looked tired rather than furious, but Marta's sharp gaze hardened like ice.

"Again?" she said, her voice stern.

One of the hunters folded his arms. "Brynn and Garrick got away."

Marta's lips pressed into a thin line. "Of course they did."

The elder beside her sighed, rubbing his temples. "And yet, these three stand before us. Do we even need to ask whose idea this was?"

Thalos kept his mouth shut, as did Orin, though he looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.

"So tell me what was it this time" Haldor, an elder, he was softly grinning at them.

Elara, however, tilted her chin up. "We didn't do anything."

"Oh? Then tell me," Marta stepped forward, cane clicking against the floor, "why were you sneaking around a locked storage shed?"

Elara held her ground. "Looking at it is not the same as breaking into it."

One of the younger men huffed a quiet laugh, but a sharp look from Marta silenced him instantly.

"The rules exist for a reason," Marta continued, her glare sweeping across them. "This is not a game. Do you think this is how hunters prepare for the trials? Is this how Frosthelm's future acts?"

Thalos didn't answer. No one did.

Marta's frown deepened. "Perhaps you need to learn the meaning of discipline. If it were up to me—"

The doors slammed open.

Brynn and Garrick. Out of breath. Grinning.