One last look at the trees, then Claire set off to find the trail. She needed to find it before the daylight faded. The thought of nightfall terrified her—she might never find her way back.
She took a few cautious steps before freezing. The snare—this wasn’t random. Someone had set it, and that someone could still be nearby.
Her stomach twisted. Who would set traps like this? Hunters? Poachers? Neither was reassuring. The thought of encountering them alone made her skin crawl.
She spun slowly, scanning the silent forest. The stillness felt heavy now. The forest no longer felt like an escape—it felt like a trap.
She needed to get back—fast. But as she moved, a chilling thought struck her.
Whoever set the snare would be coming back. And they wouldn’t be pleased she’d freed their prey.
Claire forced herself onward, stepping lightly and quietly. Every crunch of leaves beneath her feet sounded loud in her ears. She had to get out before they returned.
Her breathing trembled with panic. The trees pressed close, indistinguishable from one another. The trail had to be near—but which way?
Then, faint voices—low and sharp—reached her ears. Claire froze, heart hammering.
She dropped behind a thick tree trunk, pressing close. The voices grew louder; footsteps crunching through the brush. They were coming.