A footprint. But not like any animal he recognized.

     Malo frowned, leaning closer.

     And then he saw the others.

     The deep, oddly shaped prints were pressed into the soil, too large for a fox, too narrow for a boar. The edges were sharp, fresh.

     “Rin,” he murmured, “look at this.”

     Rin glanced over at him, eyes bright. “What is it?”

     “Something’s been living here.” Malo brushed the pad of a thumb over one of the prints, frowning thoughtfully as the damp soil crumbled beneath his touch. Whatever animal had left these, it had been here recently.

     Rin rose from where he’d been clearing the platform and came to crouch beside him. He studied the prints for a long moment, head tilted slightly, pale hair falling forward like a curtain.

     “They’re not from anything I know,” Malo said. “Look at the shape. It’s almost like… like a cat’s paw, but stretched. And deeper.”

     Rin didn’t answer right away. He reached out and hovered his hand over one of the impressions without touching it, as though feeling for something Malo couldn’t sense. His brows drew together.

     “It was scared,” Rin murmured.

     Malo blinked. “Scared? How can you tell that from a footprint?”

     Rin shook his head, frustrated with himself. “I don’t know. I just… feel it. Whatever made these, it wasn’t trying to attack anything. It was running. Or hiding.”

     Malo frowned down at the prints again. He wanted to argue—footprints didn’t have emotions—but Rin wasn’t usually wrong about these things. Still, the idea of something big enough to leave marks like this being frightened made his skin prickle.

     “Well, whatever it was,” he said, trying to sound braver than he felt, “it was here recently. And it was close to the palace.”