Branches snapped under his feet as the man tore through the underbrush, his breaths ragged and sharp. Moonlight barely pierced the thick canopy above, but it wasn't the dark that terrified him — it was the thing behind him.
Shadows moved like smoke, silent yet closing fast. Every step seemed heavier, the air thick like syrup. Then the voices began.
Whispers.
Disembodied. Twisting. Echoing his deepest fears in a thousand unfamiliar tongues.
Dozens of them. Hissing, humming, murmuring. His name. His sins. Things he'd never told a soul. Things he hadn't yet done.
He gripped his hunting knife, but it trembled in his hand. The trees… were they breathing?
Fog slithered in from nowhere, curling around his legs like vines. He stumbled. The whispering intensified — now they sounded like laughter, ancient and amused. And then, in the pale veil of mist ahead:
A towering black silhouette, unmoving, faceless — except for two piercing pink eyes that cut through the haze like embers.
The man's eyes widened. His scream never made it past his lips.
Just a gust of wind. Just rustling trees.
The forest swallowed him whole.
*
Morning came with sunshine and birdsong, as if nothing dark had ever walked these woods.
The edge of Willow Forest glistened in golden light as a yellow school bus came to a dusty halt. Teachers gave orders, tents were unloaded, and a few kids already argued over who got which sleeping bag.
Noah stepped down with his class, taking a deep breath. He could already feel it—the unease in the soil. The trees that leaned just a little too close. The wind that carried no sound.
"Alright," boomed Mr. Harrison, their homeroom teacher. "Today's setup, tomorrow's exploration. Stick close, and don't go past the rope markers. Nature is not your playground."
The students scattered, buzzing with the excitement of camping.
Noah adjusted his backpack, glancing at the towering trees of Willow Forest. There was a strange chill in the air — not cold, but unsettling. Like the wind was watching.
He paused, eyes scanning the swaying branches. The rustling carried a rhythm — not random. Almost like… whispers?
"Noah!"
He turned. A classmate, holding up a crate of supplies and motioning him over. "Give us a hand, man!"
Noah nodded absently and made his way over—but paused. He glanced once more at the forest.
Ezra stood a few feet away, her gaze fixed not on the trees, but on something low to the ground. Her brow furrowed, lips slightly parted.
Noah followed her line of sight.
There, at the edge of the woods — nestled among the ferns — was a tiny pink ball of fur, unmoving, but distinctly… wrong. It shimmered faintly in the light, like it didn't belong.
Just as his eyes locked on it, it vanished—a blur swallowed by the undergrowth.
Ezra blinked, then looked toward Noah, her expression unreadable.
Ezra walked briskly toward Noah, her eyes darting back to the forest where the pink blur had disappeared. She stopped just beside him, lowering her voice into a whisper that felt sharp against the quiet buzz of the morning camp setup.
"What was that?" she asked, voice tight.
Noah looked at her, lips parted, still unsure if they'd both seen the same thing.
"I… don't know," he admitted. "But let's check it out tonight. When everyone's asleep."
Ezra nodded, her jaw tight with agreement. She didn't like waiting—but she trusted Noah.
The day passed with mundane busyness. Tents went up. Ropes were knotted and unknotted. Mr. Harrison nearly caused a scene when he mistook a possum for a raccoon, much to the class's amusement.
They were to stay for three days—today being day one. By the time the sun melted into the horizon, and the last hammering peg was nailed into the earth, the exhausted students gathered for dinner.
Soon after, everyone huddled around two separate campfires, split between teams.
To Noah's dismay, Ezra was sent off to the second fire group, a way across the field, under the supervision of Coach Lin.
He watched her leave with an annoyed sigh. She looked over her shoulder briefly and gave a shrug. They both knew this would complicate things.
Ezra's group settled around the main fire, supervised by a woman so graceful it made her seem out of place in a forest full of dirt and bugs.
Mrs. Avaleen Marlowe.
Tall, with dark auburn hair tied in a soft braid and green eyes that sparkled even in the firelight, she radiated calm warmth. The girls in the group adored her immediately, clustering around her with endless questions.
"Are you and Mr. Harrison together?" one of them giggled.
"Do you go on dates?"
"Do you like him, Miss?"
Mrs. Marlowe blushed lightly, laughing. "No, no. We're just professional colleagues. Nothing more."
From behind a nearby tree, Mr. Harrison's heart audibly cracked.
He had been leaning closer, eavesdropping in the shadows with hopes too high and dreams too fragile. His own students spotted him peeking and immediately burst into laughter.
"Busted!"
"He's crying in the forest!"
"Coach H! Go get her, champ!"
The boys high-five one another like they'd won the lottery, while Mr. Harrison quietly retreated, his pride and clipboard barely intact.
Noah chuckled, shaking his head. But soon, his thoughts drifted back to the pink creature.
Something about it nagged at him. He couldn't explain why, but it felt familiar.
Felt important.
He was just starting to piece things together—something about a page in the journal, about creatures that didn't exist in the real world but were shaped by imagination and memory—when a voice cut through his thoughts.
"Hi."
He blinked.
A girl stood above him, arms tucked behind her back, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"I'm Lumi," she said, smiling. "I sit in front of you in class. But we've never really talked."
She was cute—small and bright-eyed, with hair dyed a faded lavender and a band-aid on her cheek like she wore it as an accessory. Her smile was soft and a little mischievous.
Noah opened his mouth, completely caught off guard.
"Uh… hi," he said stupidly. "I'm—uh. Yeah. Noah. I know."
Lumi giggled.
"You looked super serious. Like you were solving a mystery or something."
I was, Noah wanted to say.
But her smile had frozen his brain. Ezra would've rolled her eyes if she'd seen this.
"Mind if I sit?" she asked.
Noah hesitated—then nodded. She sat beside him, their shoulders barely touching.
And just like that, the mystery of the pink creature faded—for now—into the firelight, replaced by an unexpected twist Noah hadn't seen coming.