The voice is sharp, urgent, and close. A figure steps out from behind a thick oak, all coiled tension and bared teeth. He's young, maybe your age, with dark eyes that flicker with something unnatural as they scan the treeline behind you.

Another figure emerges from the shadows to his right. Taller, broader, with a jaw set so tight it looks carved from stone. He doesn't speak, just stares past you into the dark with an intensity that makes the hair on your arms stand up.

A pause. The forest holds its breath.