Chapter 1 The Dare

The forest didn't hum or whisper or creak. It held its breath.

Ava Cade stepped out of the truck and slammed the door harder than she meant to. The echo cracked through the pines like a warning shot. Lex laughed from the driver's side and tossed her a flask. "Try not to flinch like a city girl," she said. "You're home now."

Ava caught the flask, took a swallow, and winced. Whiskey. Cheap. Familiar. "I was born here, remember?"

Lex grinned, adjusting the strap of her hiking pack. "Yeah, and you left. That makes you a tourist with trauma."

They were past Mile Marker 12, deep into the forbidden stretch of forest that locals half-joked was cursed. No trail markers, no campsites, no safety rails. Just trees that grew too close together and wind that never blew in quite the right direction.

Ava didn't believe in curses. She believed in dehydration, cold snaps, and mountain lions. What she didn't believe in was the kind of thing people whispered about in bar corners after four drinks, things with claws and eyes that caught moonlight in unnatural ways.

They walked until the last sign of road was gone. Lex led with easy confidence, as if daring the dark to try something. Ava followed slower, the weight of her own thoughts dragging her like an invisible pack.

It had been five months since she'd left the firehouse. Since the accident. Since the screams. Since they pulled her out of the wreckage, broken but breathing, and told her she was the only one who made it. She still heard the crackle of flame in her sleep. Still woke up gripping her ribs, reaching for gear that wasn't there anymore.

Coming back to Marrow Ridge felt like hitting the brakes too late. Everything still looked the same, but the edges were sharper, the shadows longer.

The house she grew up in was boarded up. Her mother had died years ago. Her father had vanished when she was eight. People said suicide. No body.

Just a belt found swinging from a pine branch out past the old quarry. The forest had a way of keeping secrets.

Lex stopped at a clearing. Pine needles carpeted the ground like rusted velvet. "This is it," she said. "The place from the stories."

Ava arched an eyebrow. "The one where the Skin-Taker lives? Or the Bone Collector? Or the Eyeless Stag?"

Lex unslung her pack and dropped it with a thud. "All of them. Or none. Depends on who you ask. Me? I think there's just one thing out here."

Ava took a seat on a moss-slick log. Her fingers found the edges of the bite scar on her collarbone, an old wound she told people was from a dog. It wasn't.

"Let me guess," Ava said. "Big, bad, and walks on two legs."

Lex didn't laugh. "You remember your dad at all?"

The question hit like a sudden drop in temperature. Ava looked away. "Not really. Just his boots. He used to take them off on the porch. Said the forest didn't like the sound of soles."

"Smart man."

They drank. They talked. Night came fast.

The fire crackled low as Ava leaned back and watched the trees. No animals called. No bugs. Not even the wind dared speak.

"Tell me the truth," she said. "Why here? Why this spot?"

Lex tossed another log into the flames. It popped violently. "Because this is where it saw me. A year ago."

Ava blinked. "What?"

"I came out here with a guy," Lex said, voice low. "Thought it'd be romantic. It wasn't. He went to take a leak and never came back. I found blood. Found bones. And I found tracks that didn't make sense."

Ava stood. The wind had started again, soft and sour.

"You should've told someone."

"I did. Sheriff said it was bears. Always bears. But this" She reached into her bag and pulled out a small cloth bundle. Unwrapped it. Inside was a tooth. Too long. Too curved. Too black.

"This isn't from anything in a biology textbook."

Ava took it. It burned cold in her hand.

Behind them, something moved. A branch snapped, but nothing fell.

Lex reached for her flashlight. Ava stepped toward the trees.

"Ava," Lex whispered. "Don't."

She ignored her.

There was something there. Between the trunks. Watching. Not hiding.

Eyes caught the firelight and didn't blink.

They glowed.

And then they were gone.

The air turned brittle. Ava felt it in her chest before she realized she was holding her breath. Lex was already backing toward the fire, teeth clenched. Ava took one more step toward the trees.

Something moved again. Closer this time.

They both heard it now a low, deliberate exhale. Like something tired of pretending to be wind.

"Back to the truck," Lex said, almost too quiet to hear.

Ava nodded but didn't move.

She felt it. That magnetic wrongness in the air. Like standing too close to a downed power line.

Then it growled.

A low, rolling rumble that started in the earth and ended behind her teeth.

The flames stuttered. Ava turned.

And saw it.

Between the pines, just outside the firelight's reach tall, lean, hunched like something trying not to scrape the sky. Black fur matted with rain. Shoulders wider than any bear. And eyes. Yellow, intelligent, unblinking.

It didn't snarl. Didn't charge.

It just watched.

And smiled.

Lex screamed.

The fire died.

Darkness.

And from the darkness, a second growl answered the first, deeper, closer.

The forest had more than one voice tonight.