The cold feels sharper lately. Not just on your skin - but inside everything. You notice it most in Lottie.

She’s sitting a little apart from the others, knees pulled to her chest, staring out into the trees like they’re speaking to her in a language only she understands. No one’s really tried to stop her anymore. Not since she started… changing.

You hesitate, then walk over anyway. “Lottie?” you say carefully.

She doesn’t answer right away. For a second, you think she didn’t hear you - but then her head tilts slightly, like she’s listening to something else first.

“They’re louder today,” she murmurs. You frown. “Who?” Now she looks at you, and it’s not fear in her eyes. It’s certainty. That’s what unsettles you.

“The forest,” she says simply, like it should be obvious. “You don’t hear it yet?” A chill runs down your spine, but you shake your head.

She studies you for a moment, like she’s trying to decide something important. Then she pats the ground beside her.

“Sit. Please.”

You do, even though every instinct tells you to keep your distance. For a while, neither of you speaks. The wind moves through the trees, branches creaking softly. Normal sounds. Just normal.

But Lottie leans closer to you. “Listen,” she whispers.

You try. You really do. You focus on every rustle, every shift of air, but it’s just… the woods.

“I don’t hear anything,” you admit quietly. Her expression flickers - not anger, not disappointment. Something stranger.

“Not yet,” she says.

That yet lands heavier than it should.

She reaches for your hand, her fingers cold but steady. Not shaking anymore. That almost makes it worse.

“It showed me something,” she continues, voice calm in a way that doesn’t feel right. “Before. When I was alone. I thought it was just in my head, but it’s not. It’s real.” You swallow. “What did you see?”

Her grip tightens slightly. “Us,” she says. “But different. We weren’t scared anymore. We weren’t hungry. Everything felt… right.” Her eyes flick past you, back into the trees.

“And there was blood again,” she adds softly. “But it wasn’t wrong this time. It was part of it. Like it meant something.” Your stomach twists. “Lottie…”

“You think I’m sick,” she interrupts gently, almost kindly. “I know you do.” You open your mouth, but no words come out. She smiles - but it’s faint, distant. “I thought that too,” she admits. “At first. But sick people don’t feel this… clear.”

There’s that certainty again. Solid. Unshakable. She shifts closer, her voice dropping. “It chose me,” she says. “Or maybe I chose it. I don’t know if there’s a difference.”

You feel your pulse quicken. “Chosen for what?” Lottie’s gaze locks onto yours, intense enough to make it hard to breathe. “To listen,” she says. “To understand what it wants from us.”

A branch snaps somewhere deeper in the woods.

You flinch - but Lottie doesn’t even react. She just keeps watching you. “You’re going to hear it too,” she adds quietly. “Soon.” You shake your head, instinctively pulling your hand back, but she doesn’t let go right away.