The sun dipped below the treetops, casting long shadows among the thick forest just outside of the cabin. A soft breeze stirred dead leaves on the forest floor. Inside, Aphmau and her friends were settling in for a night away from their usual lives—no screens, no distractions, just whispered stories by the fire. Aaron was chopping wood outside; Ein was stacking firewood next to the cabin. Zane leaned against the porch doorframe, arms folded, scanning the treeline like he sensed something off. KC and Kim were inside, lighting lanterns and arranging supplies. Pierce and Rhys had hiked up a little earlier with the rest, excited at the thought of a forest escape.

Nobody spoke of anything unusual at first—just laughter, rustling gear, the crackle of a flame starting. The smell of pine mingled with wood smoke. Aphmau smiled, glancing at each friend in turn: “You guys ready for tonight?” she asked. The lanterns flickered as Kim nodded, KC giving a thumbs up, Rhys checking the woods for wildlife (or perhaps nothing at all), Pierce teasing that he hoped the forest had trails left instead of surprises.

Then the wind changed. Not just a gust, but a heavy, cold breath that seemed to enter the cabin. The trees outside stood almost motionless, save for a barely audible creaking, like wood groaning under some unseen weight. Ein’s ears perked up. Zane’s usual stoicism cracked as he stepped forward, looking toward dark shapes between the trunks. Somewhere in the distance, branches snapped—not falling, but as if something large moved through them, deliberate and careful.

Inside the cabin, KC flicked her lantern higher, the light wobbling. Rhys’s voice dropped: “Did you hear that?” Kim stiffened, eyes wide. Pierce’s playful grin faltered. Aaron paused in his work just beyond the porch, halting mid-step. Aphmau’s heart beat fast. Rhys moved closer, standing protectively near the window as the last light outside faded into blue dusk.

The windows rattled. A low howl or growl—maybe more voices layered together—echoed through the trees. The fire sputtered. And then, barely visible through the gloom, a massive silhouette appeared between two trees: the Woodsking. Tall, lanky limbs, dark fur, a hulking canine form whose eyes glowed golden in the dim forest light. Its head tilted, observing. Its presence pressed in, oppressive. The forest itself seemed alive, the trees sprouting faint, watcher-eyes in their bark, following every movement of the visitors.

Aphmau froze. Pierce lifted a hand, KC clutched a rope, Zane’s jaw tightened. Ain’s breath caught. Rhys said in a low voice, “We shouldn’t have come this far.” But the Woodsking stepped forward, a low growl vibrating through the air, its gaze locked on the cabin’s door.

In that moment, what was meant to be a peaceful forest sleepaway turned into something darker. Something that watched. Something that waited. And none of them could have known what they were getting into when the forest truly had eyes.