CHAPTER 60: CHAPTER 55: THE THRESHOLD

Location: Theron’s Cave → Dark Forest Boundary | Doha (Lower Realm)

Time: Day 367, Dawn

Dawn light crept through the cave entrance like a cautious scout, painting the stone walls in shades of gold and amber. Jayde stood at the threshold, one hand resting on the rough stone, the other checking her gear one final time.

Combat loadout optimal. Armor fitted, weapons secured, supplies sufficient for extended deployment. Emergency protocols confirmed. All systems nominal.

(Last time I stood here, I was running. Barefoot, bleeding, half-dead from exhaustion. The forest swallowed me whole, and I barely survived.)

She stepped into the morning light, boots—actual boots, not bare feet torn by roots and stone—crunching on fallen leaves. The air tasted different from inside the Pavilion’s dimensional space. Real. Raw. Charged with essence that made her Crucible Core hum in recognition.

One year, two weeks of training time. External Doha time: ninety-one days. Three months, while we forged ourselves into something stronger.

(And now we go back. Not running. Hunting.)

The contrast hit hard. Last time: desperate, terrified child fleeing execution. Now: trained cultivator, Peak Flamewrought tier, combat-ready and equipped like a professional. The forest hadn’t changed. She had.

"Final systems check before deployment," Isha’s voice came from behind her, his feline form materializing from the cave’s shadows with typical grace. The morning light caught his brown-cream-grey fur, emerald eyes sharp with assessment.

Jayde turned, falling into parade rest automatically. Old habits from the Federation—some things muscle memory never forgot. "Ready for briefing, Overseer."

"Just Isha," he corrected, but something flickered in those emerald eyes. Not quite approval. Maybe... concern? "You’ve completed one full year of intensive training. Green rates you as the most promising student she’s trained in three thousand years. White considers your tactical integration exceptional. I’ve watched you transform from a terrified, malnourished slave into a cultivator who could challenge opponents two tiers above your weight."

He paused, tail swishing once.

"And yet the Dark Forest has killed cultivators far stronger than you. Inferno-tempered veterans who thought their power made them invincible. Blazecrowned hunters who underestimated the deep territories. This forest is older than most civilizations. It doesn’t care about your potential or your training. It only cares about one thing."

"Whether I’m worthy," Jayde finished quietly.

"Whether you respect it," Isha corrected. "The forest doesn’t judge worth by power. It judges by understanding. By humility. By recognition that you’re a guest in something far greater than yourself." His expression softened slightly. "The forest chose to protect you once. When you fled into its depths, terrified and alone, it could’ve let the hunters take you. Instead, it closed ranks. Shifted trees. Swallowed your trail."

(It did, didn’t it? I thought I was going crazy, but the forest really did move to help me.)

Confirmed. Environmental manipulation detected. Non-standard defensive behavior. The forest entity demonstrated active protection protocols.

"Why?" Jayde asked. "Why did it protect me?"

"That," Isha said, "is something only the forest knows. But I suspect you’ll find out during your trials." He gestured, and suddenly the air between them shimmered. The Divine Tome’s interface, usually only visible to Jayde, manifested as a shared holographic display—Luminari technology bridging the gap between contractor and overseer.

Mission parameters loading, the familiar text scrolled across her vision, simultaneous with the visible display.

DARK FOREST DEPLOYMENT - MISSION PARAMETERS

Contractor: Jayde (Level 1)

Deployment Zone: Dark Forest - Outer Ring

Duration: 90-120 days (recommended)

Objectives: Combat experience, merit accumulation, cultivation advancement

POINT VALUES - SPIRIT BEAST ELIMINATION:

- Voidforge tier: 10 points

- Ashborn tier: 25 points

- Sparkforged tier: 50 points

- Flamewrought tier: 100 points

- Inferno-tempered tier: 250 points (outer ring: rare encounters)

CONVERSION RATE: 10 points = 1 Nexus Merit

RARE HERB LOCATIONS: 47 marked on map (high-value alchemy ingredients)

ADDITIONAL MERIT SOURCES: Herb collection, material harvesting, optional quests

SAFETY PROTOCOLS:

- Bio-sign monitoring: ACTIVE (continuous tracking via soul-bond)

- Emergency extraction: 3-10 seconds (portal stabilization time)

- Activation method: Mental command OR emergency token

- Cost: 500 Nexus Merits + significant essence expenditure

- Cooldown: 30 days between uses

- Automatic alert: Critical injury / life-threatening situation detected

KNOWN INTERFERENCE ZONES:

Deep territories: Ancient wards may disrupt bio-monitoring and portal formation

Heart territories: Total dimensional interference - extraction NOT POSSIBLE

Outer/Mid rings: Full coverage, no interference detected

RESTRICTIONS:

- Recommended: Outer ring only (first 30 days minimum)

- Mid ring: Proceed with extreme caution

- Deep territories: NOT RECOMMENDED (current cultivation insufficient + potential extraction failure)

- Heart territories: PROHIBITED (lethal danger + extraction impossible)

Jayde studied the display with a tactical eye. Standard deployment parameters. Clear objectives, measurable success criteria, and appropriate risk warnings. Well structured.

"The point system incentivizes risk," she observed. "One Inferno-tempered beast equals twenty-five Voidforge kills."

"Risk and reward scale appropriately," Isha confirmed. "But remember: you can kill a hundred Voidforge beasts safely, or die attempting to kill one Inferno-tempered predator. Dead cultivators earn zero merits."

(He’s worried about us. Actually worried.)

Emotional investment confirmed. Recommendation: acknowledge concern, reinforce competence.

"I won’t take unnecessary risks," Jayde said. "Green taught me that survival is the first priority. White taught me that tactical superiority matters more than raw power. And you taught me that every resource has a cost, including my life."

Isha’s whiskers twitched—the feline equivalent of a slight smile. "Then you learned well." His expression grew more serious. "The emergency extraction protocol is keyed directly to your soul-bond with the Divine Tome. I can pull you out in seconds if necessary—portal opens, you’re yanked through, mission aborted. But..."

He tapped the interface, highlighting the interference zones.

"The forest’s deep territories have ancient wards. Luminari-level defensive magic from before the Cataclysm, maybe older. They create dimensional dead zones where I can’t track your bio-signs and can’t open extraction portals. You go in there, you’re completely on your own." His emerald eyes held hers. "The heart territories? Total blackout. Nothing gets through those wards. Not monitoring, not extraction, not even a distress signal."

Noted. Deep/heart territories represent genuine isolation. No backup. No escape. Pure survival scenario.

(So the outer and mid rings are safe—relatively—but deeper in, we’re truly alone.)

"The outer ring is fully covered," Isha continued. "Mid ring has maybe ninety-five percent coverage with a few dead spots. You’ll feel it if you enter an interference zone—the soul-bond connection will fade, like radio static. That’s your warning to turn back."

"And if I don’t?" Jayde asked.

"Then you survive on your own merit." His tail swished. "Which you’re certainly capable of. But the protocol exists for a reason—the forest is unpredictable. A Blazecrowned apex predator wandering into outer ring territory. A sudden essence storm. An injury that would be survivable with immediate extraction but fatal if you have to walk back." He paused. "The thirty-day cooldown between extractions means you get one panic button per month. Use it wisely."

"Five hundred merits plus your essence expenditure," Jayde noted. "Not exactly cheap."

"Your life is worth more than five hundred merits." The response was immediate and firm. "And my essence regenerates. Don’t die because you’re too proud to call for help."

He touched the interface, and it shifted, zooming to show a detailed map of the outer ring. Red markers are scattered across the terrain. "These are the rare herb locations I’ve identified. Red blossom lotus, dragon grass, fire lavender—materials worth five to fifteen merits each if properly harvested. Your herbalism kit will preserve quality."

Forty-seven marked locations. At average, ten merits per site, that’s four hundred seventy merits potential. Combined with beast hunting...

"With beast kills and herb collection, two thousand merits is achievable in three to four months," Jayde calculated aloud.

"If you survive," Isha reminded her. "The herbs don’t fight back, but the territories where they grow?" He tapped several markers. "Guardian beasts. Territorial predators. Environmental hazards. Nothing comes free in the Dark Forest."

"Understood." Jayde committed the map to memory—another Federation skill, photographic recall of tactical data. The herbs weren’t just merit sources. They were objectives requiring reconnaissance, approach planning, and extraction under potential hostile conditions.

This is an operation, not a shopping trip.

(And we’re good at operations.)

"One more thing," Isha said, his voice dropping. "Before you go... there’s something I need you to understand. The training is over. There’s no safety net now—well, there is in the outer ring, but only one use per month. No controlled environment. No instructors watching to pull you back from the edge. Out there?" He gestured toward the forest. "The forest will test you in ways White and Green never could. Not your strength or your magic. Your judgment. Your character. Whether you can stay human when survival demands you become a monster."

The words hung heavy in the morning air.

(That’s... surprisingly deep for a mission briefing.)

Psychological assessment. He’s concerned we’ll lose ourselves in extended solitary combat operations. Valid concern—isolation plus violence equals mental health risks.

"I’ve been a monster before," Jayde said quietly, thinking of Crypso 3Q3U, of the antimatter bomb, of sixty years making hard calls in an impossible war. "And I’ve been human despite it. That’s not changing now."

Isha studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded once, sharp and final. "Interface loaded. Bio-monitoring active. Emergency protocols ready. You’re cleared for deployment, Contractor Jayde."

"Thank you, Overseer Isha."

"Just... come back alive." The words were soft, almost reluctant. "You’re not the first promising student I’ve trained. But you’re the first in a very long time who I think might actually make it to the top."

Then he was gone, dissolving into essence and reforming somewhere back in the Pavilion’s dimensional space, leaving Jayde alone with her thoughts and the forest waiting ahead.

***

The grave was a fifteen-minute walk from the cave, in a small clearing where morning light managed to pierce the canopy. Simple stone marker. No name—Jayde had carved only what she’d learned from his research notes: Theron Moonwhisper, Starwind Clan, Voidforge. 30 years in the Deep Green. May the forest remember.

She knelt beside the mound, one hand touching earth that had settled over the past year.

"I never knew you," she said quietly to the grave. To the memory of a man who’d died before she ever arrived. "But you saved my life anyway. The cave. The supplies. The knowledge. Everything you left behind gave me a chance when I had nothing."

Theron Moonwhisper. Starwind Clan outcast. Voidforge cultivator who survived thirty years in hostile territory through intelligence, adaptability, and meticulous documentation.

(We owe him everything. Without his cave, his journals, his spatial ring... we’d be dead.)

"You were Voidforge too," she continued, fingers tracing the carved letters. "Cast out by your clan. Forced to survive alone. You made this forest your home for three decades, and you documented everything so carefully. Like you knew someone might follow in your footsteps one day."

She pulled out the journal from her spatial ring—Theron’s final volume, leather-bound and worn from her countless readings over the past year. Most entries were scholarly observations: essence flow patterns, beast migration routes, herb growth cycles. The meticulous work of a hermit-scholar who’d turned exile into purpose.

But the final entries... those were different.

"I’m going in," she told the silent grave. "Into the forest you studied for thirty years. I’m going to hunt. Learn. Prove myself. And when I come back stronger..." Her jaw set. "I’m going to make sure your legacy—and mine—means something more than just survival."

She opened the journal to the last pages. The handwriting was shakier here; the ink was sometimes smudged. Written in the final months before illness or injury, or simple age had claimed him.

Year 30, Month 11, Day 17.

If anyone finds this cave—and I suspect someone will eventually—the forest has a way of guiding the worthy to shelter—know that these journals represent three decades of careful observation. Everything I’ve learned about surviving the Dark Forest is documented across these volumes. Use them well.

I don’t know who you are. Refugee, perhaps. Outcast, like I was. Someone desperate enough to flee into these depths and fortunate enough to find sanctuary. Whoever you are, you have my sympathy. And my research.

Jayde’s throat tightened.

(He wrote this for whoever came after. For us.)

The Dark Forest is not merely an ecosystem. It’s something older. Something aware. In thirty years, I’ve documented countless incidents that defy natural explanation: trees shifting position overnight, paths opening and closing, creatures behaving with coordinated intelligence that suggests external guidance. I’ve felt it watching. Judging. Occasionally intervening.

I don’t claim to understand what dwells at this forest’s heart. But I’ve learned to respect it. The forest protects those it deems worthy—I’ve survived situations that should have killed me, always because something intervened at the critical moment. But it also destroys those who show disrespect, greed, or cruelty. I’ve found the remains.

My advice, stranger who reads this: respect the forest. Learn from it. It has its own will, its own purpose. If it chose to guide you here, that means something. Don’t squander that gift.

The handwriting grew shakier.

The forest is divided into distinct territories—what I’ve termed rings in my documentation. Outer, mid, deep, heart. Each more dangerous than the last, not merely in beast strength but in the very essence of the environment.

Outer ring: Voidforge to Ashborn tier beasts. Survivable with intelligence and caution. Stay here until you truly understand the forest’s rhythms. One month minimum. Don’t rush. The forest doesn’t reward impatience.

Mid ring: Ashborn to Flamewrought tier threats. Requires tactical thinking and genuine cultivation strength. Dangerous, but manageable if you’ve learned the lessons of the outer territories.

Deep ring: Flamewrought to Inferno-tempered apex predators. I ventured here only a handful of times in thirty years. Ancient wards begin to appear—Luminari-era defensive magic that disrupts essence flows. Whatever lies beyond, the ancients wanted it contained.

Heart ring: I never went there. Never dared. In thirty years, I felt the essence signatures emanating from that central territory, and every survival instinct I possessed screamed to stay away. Whatever dwells in the heart is beyond mortal comprehension. Blazecrowned minimum. Possibly higher. Don’t go there unless you’re prepared to die.

The final entry was dated three days before his death, based on the timestamps Jayde had found in his earlier journals.

I’m dying. Something broke inside—an accident during foraging, or perhaps just age catching up at last. Doesn’t matter. I’ve had thirty years more than my clan thought a Voidforge deserved. That’s enough.

Whoever finds this: the cave is yours now. The supplies, the research, everything. Use it well. Survive. And if you’re strong enough, if you learn enough, if you become more than what I was...

Maybe do something with that strength. Something that matters. I ran from my responsibilities, hid in this forest, and spent thirty years documenting plants and beasts while the world burned around me. I was a coward.

Don’t be like me.

The forest is beautiful. Deadly. Ancient. Honest in ways civilization never is. It will test you. Kill you if you’re weak or foolish. But if you’re worthy—if you respect what it is—it might just forge you into something remarkable.

Good luck, stranger.

— Theron Moonwhisper, formerly of Starwind Clan

Jayde closed the journal carefully, blinking away moisture.

(He never knew us. Never knew we’d be the ones to find everything he left. But he still helped us survive.)

Theron’s research provided critical tactical intelligence. His supplies enabled our recovery. His cave offered sanctuary during the most vulnerable period. Debt acknowledged. Payment: Honor his memory through successful operation and meaningful action.

"You weren’t a coward," Jayde said to the grave. "You survived thirty years as Voidforge in hostile territory. You documented everything so carefully that whoever came after would have a fighting chance. You gave me that chance, Theron Moonwhisper. A stranger you never met, and you still saved my life."

She stood, settling the journal back in her spatial ring.

"Three to four months in the outer ring, like you recommended. I’ll learn the patterns. Study the creatures. Map my territory. And when I come back..." Her voice hardened with Federation steel. "I’ll be strong enough to stop being a coward, too. Strong enough to make the people who destroyed both of us regret every choice they made."

A breeze stirred the clearing, rustling leaves.

The forest, perhaps, approved.

Returning the journal to her spatial ring, she turned toward the waiting depths, ready to prove herself worthy of the sanctuary a dead hermit had unknowingly provided.

***

Back at the cave entrance, Jayde ran through her mental checklist one final time.

Spatial ring: Supplies loaded. Armor: Fitted and tested. Weapons: Secured and ready. Ember Qi: Full capacity 2,160/2,200. Mental state: Optimal. Physical condition: Peak performance.

(We’re really doing this.)

Affirmative. Operation parameters are clear. Primary objective: Combat experience acquisition. Secondary objective: Merit accumulation. Tertiary objective: Cultivation advancement. Success criteria: Survive and return stronger.

She thought of Green’s final words two days ago, in the Pavilion’s garden sanctuary. The fractured emerald eyes were serious and focused.

"You’re the most talented student I’ve trained in three thousand years. But talent doesn’t mean shit in the Dark Forest. What matters is judgment. Know when to fight, when to flee, when to hide. The forest doesn’t care about your potential—it only cares about your choices. Make smart ones."

And then, softer, almost vulnerable:

"Don’t die out there. You’re... important. To this program. To the Pavilion. To—" She’d cut herself off, mask slamming back in place. "Just don’t waste the year we invested in you."

(She cares. Green actually cares about us.)

Emotional attachment confirmed. Multiple trainers have developed investment in our success. Recommendation: Justify that investment through exemplary performance.

"Three to four months," Jayde said aloud, voice steady and sure. "Outer ring territory. Safe, methodical hunting. Build experience, earn merits, break through to Inferno-tempered tier. Then return for the next phase of training."

She rolled her shoulders, feeling the armor shift perfectly with the movement. Checked her blade—runeinfused steel, sharp enough to cut essence itself. Verified her bow and arrows were accessible. Confirmed emergency supplies: healing pills, escape talismans, Green’s token.

All equipment is nominal. Tactical assessment complete. Ready for deployment.

(Let’s do this. Time to show the forest what we’ve become.)

The fear that might’ve risen—muscle memory from childhood trauma, from ten years of helplessness—didn’t come. A year of systematic trauma processing had burned away the paralysis, leaving only healthy caution. The kind that kept soldiers alive.

We are not that child anymore. We spent one year systematically destroying every weakness, processing every trauma, and building capabilities that would make veteran soldiers proud. Our physical stats are sufficient. Our combat integration is expert-level. Our magical foundation is solid. Our tactical analysis is superb.

We are not helpless. We are not weak. We are not prey.

We are a hunter. And hunters don’t fear the forest.

They learn it. Master it. Survive it. And emerge stronger.

(Yeah. Let’s go hunting.)

Affirmative. Emotional stability confirmed. Mental readiness is optimal. Proceeding with the operation.

Jayde took one last look at the cave that had sheltered her through the hardest year of either of her lives. Stone walls marked with Theron’s defensive formations. Storage areas filled with his research. The grave in the clearing where a Voidforge outcast had found peace after thirty years of survival.

"Thank you," she said to the cave, to Theron’s memory, to the forest that had protected her when everything else wanted her dead. "For giving me the space to become something more."

Then she turned and walked toward the Dark Forest boundary.

***

The forest felt it before she crossed the invisible line that separated the outer world from the Dark Forest proper. A ripple of awareness, like the attention of something vast and ancient turning to examine the small figure approaching its domain.

Environmental essence flux detected. Massive-scale Verdant signature mixed with Voidshadow, Terracore base, Inferno traces—eight essences in complex harmony. Classification: Unknown entity. Power level: Immeasurable. Intent: Unknown.

(The forest. It’s watching us.)

Jayde could feel it now, clear as day. That same presence that had saved her a year ago, wrapping around her consciousness like gentle fingers testing her resolve. Not hostile. Not friendly either. Just... curious. Assessing. Judging whether this small cultivator, who approached its domain, understood what she was asking.

I’m not running this time, she thought toward that vast awareness. Not fleeing. I’m coming in deliberately. To hunt. To learn. To prove myself worthy of the protection you gave me.

The presence pressed closer, and for a moment Jayde felt layers of intelligence she couldn’t comprehend—older than civilizations, patient as stone, wild as fire. Something that had watched empires rise and fall, that had sheltered refugees and killed invaders, that knew every creature in its territory like a mother knew her children.

Then, like a key turning in a lock, she felt... acknowledgment.

Welcome, Chosen.

Not words. Concepts directly into her mind. Recognition that she had returned not as a frightened child but as something the forest could respect. Something that understood the compact: protection offered, worthiness required, respect demanded.

Jayde stepped across the boundary.

The transition was subtle but unmistakable. The air grew thicker, charged with more essence than should naturally exist in this concentration. The trees were older here, larger, their bark marked with the passage of centuries. The canopy closed in overhead, filtering sunlight into emerald twilight even at dawn.

And the sounds changed.

The normal forest noises—birds, insects, small animals—muted to background whispers. Replaced by deeper sounds. The creak of ancient branches. The rustle of ferns the size of small trees. And underneath it all, a rhythm like breathing. Like a heartbeat. The forest itself, alive and aware.

(This is so different from running in blind and terrified.)

Confirmed. The previous entry was an emergency infiltration under hostile pursuit. Current entry is a deliberate approach with preparation and respect. Forest response reflects recognition of changed status.

She moved carefully through the undergrowth, not rushing, letting her senses adjust. The Divine Tome’s interface flickered at the edge of her vision—bio-monitoring active, map displaying her position near the outer ring boundary, nearby herb locations marked in soft blue light.

Her Crucible Core thrummed with Inferno essence, recognizing the fire of life burning throughout the forest ecosystem. Everything here was alive in ways the outside world wasn’t. Essence flowed through plants, through soil, through the very air itself. This wasn’t just a forest.

It was a cultivation ground. Natural. Ancient. Perfect.

Essence density is approximately 300% higher than outside territories. Cultivation efficiency dramatically increased. Recommendation: Establish a meditation routine to take advantage of environmental amplification.

(We can cultivate while hunting. This place is amazing.)

A flash of movement between trees—something watching from the shadows. Jayde’s hand didn’t move to her blade, but her awareness sharpened. Not hostile. Just curious. A spirit beast is evaluating the new presence in its territory.

She caught a glimpse: sleek form, cat-like, size of a wolf, fur that seemed to absorb light. Shadowbeast, probably. Ashborn tier based on essence signature. Dangerous to normal cultivators. Well within her capabilities.

But she didn’t attack. This wasn’t the moment. This was entering the forest’s domain, understanding its rhythms, learning its rules. The hunt would come. First, respect.

The shadowbeast watched her for another moment, yellow eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Then it melted back into darkness, apparently satisfied she wasn’t an immediate threat.

Smart, Jayde thought. Test the new arrival without committing to combat. Conserve energy. Gather intelligence. That’s how survivors operate.

(We’re going to learn so much here.)

Further in, she felt more eyes. Forest creatures tracking her progress, measuring this strange cultivator who walked their territory without fear but also without aggression. A fragrant katydid—Voidforge tier insect, three feet long with crystalline wings—observed from a branch overhead. A bronze-nosed zorse—a weird hybrid creature, Ashborn tier—watched from a clearing fifty meters north.

None attacked. All watched.

The forest was introducing her. Letting its inhabitants know: this one is different. This one belongs here. This one has permission.

Jayde found a massive ashwood tree at the boundary between the outer ring’s edge and its proper interior, roots thick as her torso spreading across the forest floor. She sat, cross-legged, back against the ancient bark, and let herself just... feel.

The forest breathed around her. Essence flows like rivers through earth and air. Life and death are in a constant cycle. Predator and prey locked in eternal dance. Everything connected, everything part of something larger.

(This is why Theron stayed. Not just hiding. This place is... it’s pure. Real. More honest than any city or clan could ever be.)

Optimal training environment confirmed. Zero political interference. Zero social complications. Pure meritocracy: strength determines survival, weakness determines death. Federation principles applied to the cultivation ecosystem.

"Three months minimum," Jayde said aloud to the listening forest. "Maybe four. I’m going to hunt your outer territories. Kill the predators that threaten the balance. Harvest herbs that are overabundant. Learn from your teachers—the creatures who survive here through strength and cunning."

She stood, settling her gear, checking her blade one final time.

"I’m going to prove I’m worthy of the protection you gave me. And when I leave here..." Her voice hardened, taking on the edge of Federation steel. "I’m going to be strong enough to start settling debts. Strong enough to make the clan that threw me away regret every single choice they made."

The forest didn’t respond. But somewhere deep in its heart, something stirred. A presence older and darker than the protective entity she’d felt at the boundary. Not hostile. Not friendly. Just...interested.

Warning: Significant essence signature detected. Deep territory, approximately eight kilometers east-southeast. Power level: Inferno-tempered minimum, possibly Blazecrowned. Classification: Apex predator. Threat level: Extreme.

(That’s not for us. Not yet.)

Agreed. File for future reference. Current objectives: Establish territory familiarity. Identify Ashborn-tier targets. Execute the first successful hunt.

Deep in the forest, something howled.

Not a wolf. Not quite. The sound carried essence-weight that made the air vibrate, made small creatures scatter, made even the trees seem to lean away from its source. Power. Challenge. And underneath it all—

Invitation.

Come, the howl seemed to say. Hunt. Learn. Prove yourself. The trials begin now.

Jayde smiled, and both voices spoke in perfect unison:

"Let the trials begin."

She vanished into the emerald twilight, a hunter entering her domain, ready to become something more.

The Dark Forest watched and waited.

This one, it sensed, would be interesting.