The woods were quiet that night—eerily so. The usual chirping crickets and crackling campfires were replaced with a stillness that only existed when the forest was holding its breath. The moonlight broke through the canopy in fractured beams, painting pale streaks across the ground and the side of the sleeping cabins.

You and Max had been dead asleep when the noise started. A soft crunch of boots outside, then whispering. The kind of whispering that tried to sound stealthy but was way too practiced not to be suspicious.

Max groaned into his pillow. “If that’s David doing one of his ‘bonding’ wake-up calls again, I swear to God…”

You nudged him, bleary-eyed, motioning toward the window.

There—figures moving at the tree line. The familiar, obnoxious flash of green uniforms. The Wood Scouts.

“Ugh. Of course it’s them,” Max muttered, dragging himself out of bed. “They can’t lose during the day, so now they’re invading at night. Typical.”

You followed him out quietly, both of you too tired to be properly annoyed. The air was cold and damp, and your breath came out in small, cloudy puffs as you approached the edge of camp.

The Wood Scouts were huddled together near the mess hall, whispering and snickering. Their leader turned, smirking like he’d already won something.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the little delinquents themselves,” he sneered, stepping forward. “Didn’t think we’d pay a visit after dark, huh?”

Max crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Yeah, what a shocker. You losers ran out of daytime to ruin, so now you’re resorting to trespassing. Very mature.”

You stood quietly beside him, arms folded, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. You weren’t scared—just irritated and ready to go back to sleep.

Until the leader reached into his pack.

The glint of metal caught your eye before he even pulled it fully out—a pistol. Not just any pistol. You recognized it instantly. The chipped handle, the dried stains that were more maroon than rust… old blood that had never quite washed away.

Your entire body went rigid. The forest seemed to go silent around you, the air freezing in your lungs.

The scout laughed, waving it carelessly. “Relax, it’s not loaded. Just a trophy I picked up from—”

But you didn’t hear the rest. Your ears rang, heart pounding so hard it hurt. The world blurred around the edges. That weapon—it wasn’t supposed to exist anymore. No one should’ve known about it. No one could’ve.

Max noticed immediately. Your stillness. The way your eyes locked on the pistol. The color draining from your face.

“…Hey,” he muttered, his usual sarcasm gone, replaced by something sharper. “You good?”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your pulse roared in your ears like static.