Her hands clenched into fists. If they found her, what would happen? These weren’t casual hikers—they were poachers setting illegal traps.
She peeked cautiously. Two figures moved through the trees, shadows shifting. One carried a rifle slung over his back.
A chill ran through her. They were armed.
She had to keep moving. Slowly, carefully, she crept through the underbrush, hugging the ground. Every step was a risk; every breath felt too loud.
Then—SNAP. A twig cracked under her boot.
The voices stopped. Heavy silence fell between the trees.
A man’s voice broke the quiet. “Did you hear that?”
Another responded, “Could be an animal.”
Claire’s heart thundered, certain they could hear it too. She crouched lower, praying the thick brush would hide her.
A long pause.
Then boots crunching—drawing closer.
Claire’s muscles tensed. She had to decide—run or stay hidden.
She turned her head, searching for escape routes.
If she sprinted, she could put distance between them. But they had guns. If spotted, they wouldn’t hesitate.
She took slow steps back. A branch snagged her sleeve; she bit her lip to stifle a gasp.
Suddenly, a shout: “There! I saw something!”
Adrenaline surged. Claire bolted.
Branches tore at her arms as she sprinted through the trees. Voices shouted behind her, footsteps pounding.