The first light of dawn crept over the jagged peaks, painting the mountain range in hues of gray and gold. The stream babbled cheerfully nearby, oblivious to the tension that had settled among its visitors. Chen Yi crouched by a cluster of scrubby trees, his weathered hands brushing dirt from his trousers as he surveyed the scene before him.

  OuYang KuiFong stood waist-deep in the stream, attempting—poorly—to mimic the stillness of a heron. His broad shoulders twitched every time a fish darted past his legs, and when one finally brushed against his ankle, he yelped so loudly it sent a flock of birds spiraling into the sky.

  “KuiFong,” Chen Yi growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re supposed to blend in, not scare off everything within earshot.”

  “But I am blending!” KuiFong protested, gesturing at himself with dripping arms. “Look! My tunic matches the water!”

  “It’s soaked because you fell in three times already,” MeiEr chimed in helpfully from the bank, where she was weaving a garland of wildflowers. She paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Though… maybe if we rolled you in mud, you’d look more like a rock.”

  Chen Yi sighed deeply, the sound carrying all the weight of a man who had spent decades mastering patience only to have it tested daily by these two. “Let’s focus on walking quietly first,” he said, standing. “If you can manage that much without alerting half the forest, we’ll worry about camouflage later.”

  Their attempts at silent movement began promisingly enough—or rather, they would have, if KuiFong hadn’t tripped over a root five steps into the exercise. He landed with a crash that dislodged a small avalanche of pebbles, which tumbled noisily down the slope behind them.

  MeiEr winced. “Maybe we should stick to flat ground for now?”

  “No,” Chen Yi replied firmly. “We don’t get to choose our terrain. If the Enforcers catch up, they won’t care whether there are roots or rocks. Now try again.”

  By midday, progress was minimal but undeniable. KuiFong managed to go ten whole paces without incident, though his exaggerated tiptoeing made him resemble a drunk crane. MeiEr fared better, her slight frame allowing her to glide between patches of dry leaves with surprising grace. Still, her habit of humming under her breath earned her several sharp glares from Chen Yi.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Why must you make noise?” he demanded after catching her mid-tune.

  “It helps me concentrate!” she insisted, clutching a handful of herbs she’d collected earlier. “Besides, animals hum too, don’t they?”

  Chen Yi stared at her blankly. “No. No, they do not.”

  “Well, maybe they should.”

  He muttered something unintelligible and turned away, shaking his head. Despite himself, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. For all their clumsiness, the siblings’ determination was endearing. Even KuiFong, who could trip over air itself, refused to give up.

  As dusk approached, the trio set up camp beneath an overhanging ledge. Chen Yi demonstrated how to build a fire with minimal smoke, using dry twigs and bark shavings. MeiEr watched intently, occasionally jotting notes in the margins of a battered journal. KuiFong, meanwhile, busied himself stacking stones into what he claimed was a “windbreak” but looked suspiciously like a lopsided tower.

  “This is good practice,” KuiFong announced proudly, patting the structure. “If anyone comes looking, they’ll think it’s just a natural formation.”

  Chen Yi glanced at it skeptically. “Unless they’ve never seen a natural formation before, sure.”

  Night fell quickly, bringing with it the distant hoots of owls and the rustle of unseen creatures in the underbrush. As the fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across their faces, Chen Yi decided to test their newfound skills.

  “Game time,” he said, rising to his feet. “Follow me. Stay low, stay quiet, and don’t touch anything unless I say so.”

  They moved single file through the darkness, guided by the faint glow of the moon filtering through the trees. At first, old habits die hard; KuiFong stepped on a twig that snapped like a gunshot, and MeiEr accidentally brushed against a bush whose leaves rattled like chimes. But slowly, painfully, they improved. By the time they returned to camp hours later, even KuiFong seemed less likely to wake the entire valley with his footfalls.

  “You’re getting better,” Chen Yi admitted grudgingly as they settled back around the fire. “Not great, but… better.”

  “Better is good!” MeiEr beamed, handing him a steaming cup of herbal tea. “And tomorrow will be even better, right?”

  Chen Yi took the cup, savoring the warmth as much as the drink. “Tomorrow,” he said, allowing himself a rare smile, “we’ll work on not leaving trails wide enough for a blind man to follow.”

  Behind him, KuiFong scratched his head sheepishly while MeiEr stifled a giggle. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted again, its call echoing through the mountains. For now, the night was peaceful—and for now, that was enough.