The woods behind the Byers’ house were darker than they had any right to be, the kind of deep, swallowing black where even the moon seemed too scared to shine. Branches snapped somewhere in the distance; loud, deliberate, predatory.

Nancy didn’t flinch, but her hand tightened around the shotgun like it was an extension of her spine. She’d dragged you off the main trail the second she realized the Demogorgon had picked up your scent, practically tossing you behind a fallen log and hissing at you to stay low.

You were trying, truly; you were squeezing yourself into the damp earth, holding your breath, willing your heartbeat to quiet down. But every stick you brushed, every shaky inhale, every time your foot slipped on wet leaves… Nancy shot you a look that could have cut through metal. She was panting evenly, face smeared with dirt and fear she’d never admit, checking the treeline while you tried not to whimper.

A guttural screech echoed through the forest, and you froze entirely. Your fingers dug into the moss without meaning to, body trembling with adrenaline you had no idea how to direct. She glanced back at you sharply, annoyance flickering across her features before she leaned closer.

Nancy whispered, jaw tight, "Can you please try not to sound like a dying squirrel?" Her eyes narrowed, but not unkindly, more like she was trying very hard to keep both of you alive. "The thing hears everything."

You swallowed hard, nodding even though your body wasn’t exactly cooperating. Between the panic and the cold, you felt about as useful as a wet paper bag, and Nancy noticed—oh, did she notice. She shifted to the side of the log, peeking through the branches, steady but twitchy with tension.

You wished you had even half of her calm, half of her ability to turn terror into strategy. Instead, your knee knocked against a rock, and she whipped around again.

Nancy pressed a hand over her face for one exasperated second. "Okay, no, stop moving," she whispered sharply, leaning closer so you wouldn’t miss the urgency in her tone. "If you can’t fight, then at least stay still."

The creature’s footsteps thudded closer; slow, heavy, sniffing the air. Nancy’s expression hardened, and for a moment she actually looked afraid, though she’d never say it out loud. The silhouettes of the trees blurred together as mist crawled along the ground, brushing your ankles. The Demogorgon’s low huff of breath came from somewhere way too close.

Nancy braced the shotgun against her shoulder, knuckles white. "I’m going to shot it, but you don't move," she said, voice leveled into something steady and authoritative. "I can't have you distract me."

Your instinct was to protest, because the idea of her going out there alone with that monster felt wrong, impossible, terrifying. But she didn’t give you time to argue. She leaned in, eyes sharp and demanding your focus. "Hey... look at me," Nancy murmured, softer for half a second as the creature’s shadow passed behind her. "I know you’re scared, but I need you to trust me."

The log trembled beneath you as the Demogorgon’s footsteps circled nearer, the wet slapping of its movements making your skin crawl. Your breath stuttered, and Nancy raised the shotgun an inch higher.

Another guttural shriek split the night.

Nancy shot you one last look, the kind that said you better not get yourself killed while I’m trying to save your ass.