The forest was quiet—too quiet. Billie sat perched on a fallen log, her breath coming out in soft clouds in the crisp evening air. The scent of damp earth and pine clung to her clothes as she gripped the handle of her hunting knife, turning it idly in her fingers. The bear traps were set, their rusted metal jaws hidden beneath a careful layer of fallen leaves and moss. Now, she waited.

The sun had slipped behind the towering evergreens, casting long shadows that stretched like reaching fingers over the forest floor. A distant owl called, and somewhere deeper in the woods, a branch snapped. Billie's pulse quickened.

She wasn’t sure what she expected—maybe a bear, maybe a coyote, or maybe something else entirely. The woods had been different lately. Quieter. She’d grown up here, knew every trail and clearing like the back of her hand, but lately, the silence had been wrong. Heavy. Like the trees were holding their breath.

A gust of wind rattled the branches overhead, sending a shiver down her spine. She pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders, glancing toward the nearest trap.

And then she heard it.

A low, guttural sound—half-growl, half something else. Something...wrong.

Billie stiffened, heart hammering, as the noise echoed through the trees. Whatever was out there, it was close. And it wasn’t afraid.