“No problem.” Ygri shook his head. “As long as even a single spore escapes, a fungus folk can survive. That’s the true nature of our kind.”

Kalla’s eyes narrowed slightly, her expression sharpening with interest. “So even if they trapped most of the body, it wouldn’t matter. As long as one fragment slipped away, the fungus folk could rebuild itself.”

“Exactly.” Loma nodded. “That’s why we are certain our kin is still alive. What they captured—if anything—was nothing more than a fraction. The real body must have scattered with the wind.”

Solus folded her arms, thinking it through. “Then the fight we’re seeing here wasn’t a failure. It was a distraction. The fungus folk let itself be cornered just long enough to create an opening.”

“And used the wind to escape.” Nyka finished, her gaze sweeping across the valley. “Smart. But that also means the trail won’t follow a single direction.”

“Correct.” Kalla exhaled through her nose. “Instead of one clear path, we’re dealing with dozens—maybe hundreds—of scattered traces. Most of them already gone by now.”

Ygri’s mist dimmed slightly. “Can you still find them?”