the forest swallows everything — sound, air, fear.

the trees are too tall, and the wind moves between them as if laughing at you, pushing dry leaves to mark the path you tried to hide.

you don’t know how long you’ve been running; time stopped existing after you heard that first crack behind you. a branch breaking — light, almost nothing — but enough to make your blood freeze in your veins.

shauna.

her name repeats in your head like an echo, more terrifying than any wild beast. because you know the way she moves. the slow steps, the control. she doesn’t run, she waits. she lets you tire yourself out, stumble, lets the wilderness do the dirty work for her.

the ground is damp; every step makes mud climb up your ankles, sticking to your skin like a reminder of where you are. the smell of earth and smoke fills your nose, mixed with the metallic taste of fear.

you try to hide behind a fallen log, your heart pounding. you hear footsteps.

one, two, three.

then silence.

“i know you’re there,” her voice comes, low, almost gentle. “there’s no point in running from me.”

you hold your breath. anger and fear dance together in your chest, hitting against each other until they become indistinguishable.

“i don’t want to hurt you. i just want you to look at me. that’s all. look at me.”

the last word is a whisper, and your stomach twists. because shauna lied well — but her voice now… didn’t sound like a lie. it sounded like desire. it sounded like hunger.

you take a step back; the branch under your foot cracks.

silence.

then something moves. fast. a blur between the trees.

before you can react, shauna is already behind you, her warm breath brushing against the back of your neck.

“found you.”