A slow grin spreads across her shadowed face as her voice slithers into the ears of the others.

"You will be surprised, my friends… by just how deliciously entertaining a lamb's fate can be."

Here's how I'd structure and word that so it keeps your dark, cinematic flow intact while also setting up tension for the coming meeting:

---

Scene — Bjorn

The forest hums with faint insect chatter as Bjorn stumbles through undergrowth, every step heavier than the last.

His hand brushes against a root, then a branch, then suddenly—

the sound of running water.

His eyes widen.

He follows the sound in a half-run, branches scratching his arms until he bursts through the brush.

A stream glistens in the dappled light.

Without hesitation, Bjorn drops to his knees, plunges his hands into the cold current, and drinks deeply. The water runs down his chin as he gulps, then he splashes his face over and over.

"Water…" he breathes, almost laughing between gasps.

"Water is life."

For a brief moment, the shadows in his eyes lift.

---

In different corners of the Orb World, leaders begin their march toward the location Lucien named.

Wrath: The Wrath leader walks with an unsteady gait, bandaged wounds still fresh, but every step hits the ground like a hammer. Two subordinates trail behind, silent, matching his pace.

Lust: The Lust leader moves with a sway in her hips, eyes glinting with anticipation, licking her lips as though the meeting itself were foreplay. Her escorts exchange uneasy glances but say nothing.

Sloth: The Sloth leader trudges at a leisurely pace, yawning so wide it looks like his jaw might crack. Even the messenger at his side seems more awake than him.

Greed & Gluttony: These two walk together, trading quiet, knowing smiles. Greed counts coins idly in his hand, while Gluttony gnaws on something unidentifiable, crunching bones with every step.

The paths may differ, but all steps lead to the same place…

Got it —

The cold stream splashes against his lips as Bjorn drinks greedily, hands cupped, droplets running down his forearms.

He exhales, lifts his head—

And freezes.

On the opposite bank, barely ten paces away, a rabbit stands still.

Its fur twitches in the breeze.

Its dark eyes meet his.

For a heartbeat, the world goes silent.

The forest, the water, even Bjorn's breath—gone.

Only prey and predator remain.

As if some unspoken signal passed between them, Bjorn launches forward.

He clears the stream in a single desperate leap, mud spraying behind him.

The rabbit bolts into the undergrowth.

Bjorn crashes after it without a second thought, tearing through branches, lungs burning, the chase alive in his veins!. 

Wrath leader storms into the meeting place — a grim, dimly lit hall scattered with broken furniture and tension.]

The Wrath leader's heavy footsteps echo with rage. His fists clench as he approaches a sturdy wooden table, ready to smash it in frustration.

(Time slows, focus zooms in on his eyes as they suddenly lock onto someone unexpected.)

His anger falters, replaced by an almost hypnotic daze. In his mind, he thinks:

"...She's the sexiest woman I've ever seen."

The woman, leaning casually against the far wall, smirks knowingly.

Woman (calm, sultry tone):

"Seems my beauty's still at its peak."

She steps forward with confident grace and, with a deliberate flick of her wrist, lowers herself onto the table meant for the Lust faction — a throne of decadence and desire.

The Wrath leader blinks, caught off guard but unable to look away, came back to his senses after a while "this woman must be of the Lust he thought" 

Wrath leader (shouting):

"Where the hell is the Pride?! They've got the balls to summon me—and then show up late?!"

Lust leader (smirking, amused):

"How hot-blooded…"

A heavy silence lingers for a minute or two.

[Suddenly, a voice drifts from deep within the forest, slow and teasing:]

Mysterious voice:

"Hmm… I want it all—this sexy bitch, this rage man…"

[Footsteps crunch on leaves as two figures step forward through the trees toward the gathering.]

Wrath leader (snarling, eyes burning):

"Who's this fool?"

Lust leader (eyes glittering, intrigued):

"Hmm… looks like a greedy one has arrived."

[The Greed leader appears, sharp and calculating, flanked closely by the Gluttony leader, whose eyes gleam with hunger.]

Gluttony leader (rubbing his hands, voice dripping with anticipation):

"Will they fill my stomach?"

[The Wrath leader's anger flares hotter, veins bulging as his voice booms:]

Wrath leader (fierce and impatient):

"If there here to play games, I'm ready to burn it all down.

Wide shot of the forest edge. The Greed and Gluttony leaders stand alert, tense.]

No dialogue — just atmosphere, slight rustling trees.

---

[Panel 2: Long shot — The Sloth leader strolls in from the side, moving super slowly. His posture slumps, shoulders drooping.]

Sound effect (small text, near feet):

"Ssshhhhh..." (slow footsteps)

---

[Panel 3: Close-up on the Sloth leader's face, eyes half-closed, letting out a deep sigh.]

Sloth leader (muttering, heavy lazy tone):

"Ugh... even walking is a pain."

---

[Panel 4: Medium shot — Sloth leader turns head slowly toward the Wrath leader, a lazy smirk playing on his lips.]

Sloth leader (mocking, yawning):

"What's with the rush? I could hear you shouting all the way from miles away."

---

[Panel 5: Reaction shot — Wrath leader, slightly irritated, glaring at Sloth leader.]

No dialogue, just expression.

A tense silence fell after the Sloth leader's lazy arrival.

The Wrath leader's eyes flickered with a grudging respect. "Fuck! Everyone one of just keeps getting on my nerves," he muttered gruffly, barely looking away.

Suddenly, Kane appeared, striding confidently from the direction the others had come. His voice cut through the quiet.

"Lucien is here—with Pride."

All eyes turned sharply toward Kane's path. The tension in the air thickened as the faction leaders awaited the arrival of the Pride leader.

From the shadows emerged Lucien, walking with a regal, commanding presence that demanded attention. His gaze swept across the gathering.

"It seems you've all arrived," he said calmly, a subtle edge of authority in his tone.

The reactions were instantaneous, though mostly wordless.

The Wrath leader's jaw clenched tightly, muscles taut with barely concealed rivalry.

The Lust leader's lips curled into a sly smile, eyes sparkling with both intrigue and challenge.

Greed's sharp gaze locked onto Lucien like a predator sizing up its prey.

Gluttony's mouth quirked into a hungry grin, anticipation simmering just beneath the surface.

Even Sloth, though half-lidded and yawning, wore a slight smirk—his laziness momentarily giving way to interest.

Lucien settled into the chair at the head of the table—the seat of power—his posture regal and composed. Around him, the Pride faction gathered, their eyes fixed on their leader.

"Shall we begin the information exchange?" Lucien's voice cut through the charged silence, calm and commanding.

The Wrath leader's patience snapped. He slammed his fist on the table, voice booming with fury.

"Who the hell do you think you are, announcing the start of this meeting? You—who showed up late!"

Lucien ignored the outburst, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. He raised his chin and declared with pride,

"I am Lucien, leader of Pride—ruler by right and strength. Let it be known who commands this gathering."

His voice carried undeniable authority, silencing the room.

"Now, state your names and factions," he commanded, sweeping his gaze over the others.

They each gave their names and factions they lead! Though some were reluctant to do so at first!. 

The Wrath leader's anger flared, muscles tensing as he prepared to lash out. But before he could move, the Sloth leader's slow, deliberate voice cut in, dripping with mock patience.

"Now, now… no need for a fight just yet. We've all got our parts to play. Besides," he yawned, stretching lazily, "losing your temper before the meeting even starts hardly sets a good tone, does it?"

The Wrath leader growled low in his throat but reluctantly held back, the Sloth's calm, taunting presence defusing the tension—for now.

The leaders gathered around the worn, heavy table, voices low but charged as they exchanged updates. Supplies, arms, and barracks—the witch's hand was evident in every detail. Ammunition arrived with uncanny precision, food stores replenished mysteriously overnight, and new quarters sprung up where none had existed before. Each leader spoke cautiously, wary of revealing too much yet mindful of the stakes.

Lucien listened, his expression unreadable, then straightened, voice cutting through the murmurs with sharp pride.

"You all," he began, eyes flashing with icy command, "have nothing gone wrong in your camps?"

A heavy silence fell. Some leaders shook their heads, denying any trouble. Others kept their eyes fixed on Lucien, silently weighing his words.

Lucien's smile twisted, cold and sharp.

"It seems my information holds far more weight than the nonsense you all babble."

He leaned forward, voice lowering but no less forceful.

"Let me ask again—has nothing unusual happened in your camps?"

The Wrath leader's patience shattered like brittle glass.

The Wrath leader slammed his fist into the table so hard that the wooden surface groaned, splinters snapping loose.

"Don't you dare speak to me like am some mindless pawn!" he roared, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.

The sound was enough to make several faction leaders' hands twitch toward the hilts of their weapons. Metal rasped faintly in the air — not full draws, but the warning shift of killers ready to act.

One Pride lieutenant's knuckles whitened on the grip of his sword, while a Gluttony guard's eyes narrowed, hand resting on the axe strapped to his back.

The tension was thick enough to choke on. Every heartbeat sounded like a drumbeat in a war march.

Lucien's gaze flicked over the room, a cruel glint lighting his eyes, still ignored the wrath"s leader. 

"Hmm… you all exceed my expectations. As dumb as I'd feared."

The other faction leaders exchanged uneasy glances—some with tight-lipped frustration, others with silent calculation.

Then Lucien's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Why has none of you asked about the Envy?"

Bjorn crashed through the undergrowth, breath ragged, eyes locked on the darting shape ahead. The rabbit zigzagged between roots and fallen branches, its tiny body a streak of fur and speed.

He leapt over a moss-covered log, his boots landing hard, mud spraying beneath him. The forest was alive with the noise of his pursuit—branches snapping, leaves tearing underfoot.

The rabbit veered sharply, diving under a low tangle of thorns. Bjorn didn't slow; he dropped low, forcing his way through, ignoring the sting of scratches across his arms.

A shaft of light broke through the canopy ahead, glinting on the stream the rabbit had crossed before. This time, it was only a few strides away.

Bjorn lunged. His hands brushed empty air as the rabbit shot forward again, disappearing into the misty trees beyond.

He landed hard, teeth clenched, and pushed himself back up. Without knowing anything about the meeting taking place.