Shadow’s POV:

The shadows of the oak trees around her whispered into the wind.

Their sound cloaked her movements as the shadow moved between trees like smoke. Her weaver cloak clung heavily to her short, tiny frame, the silver runes making her meld into the dark shadows of every tree she passed through. Her bare feet padded softly around some twigs and fallen leaves as she actually tried, for what felt like the first time in decades, to trail her target.

As she moved, she gritted her teeth in annoyance.

She hated this job, and every single step she took reminded her of that fact.

She should not have been...