Questions with Teeth
905 Words
The hunters didn’t rush her.
That, more than anything, unsettled Lena.
They stopped a few feet away, close enough that she could smell the oil on their weapons and the sharp tang of sweat beneath their jackets. Men used to the woods, used to fear—but not afraid of it. They looked at her the way people looked at problems they believed could be solved.
One of them smiled again. It didn’t reach his eyes.
“Just routine questions,” he said. “We’ve had reports of strange animal activity. Thought we’d check in.”
Lena nodded calmly. “This town has always had wildlife.”
“Not like this,” another man said. He was older, his movements economical. “Traps sprung. Trails disappearing. Folks hearing things they shouldn’t.”
She held his gaze. Her heart beat steadily, loud only to her own ears. “And you think that’s me?”
“We think you’ve been spending a lot of time near the forest,” the first man replied. “People notice patterns.”
Behind her, Lena felt Calen’s presence like a shadow stitched into the street. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But the steadiness of him anchored her.
“I walk,” she said. “I grew up here. So did half this town.”
The older hunter studied her face. “Funny thing about walkers. They usually come back scratched. Dirty. Tired.”
His eyes flicked briefly to her hands.
Clean. Steady.
Lena smiled faintly. “Guess I’m careful.”
A pause.
The men exchanged glances. Not doubt—calculation.
“You live alone?” one asked.
“Yes.”
“No pets?”
“No.”
“No medical conditions?” the older one pressed. “Sleepwalking. Blackouts. Anything like that?”
Jonah’s door creaked softly behind her.
Lena didn’t turn.
“No,” she said. “Should I have one?”
The hunter’s jaw tightened. “People who don’t know what’s happening around them tend to get hurt.”
“That sounds like a threat,” Lena replied evenly.
“It’s a warning,” he said. “There are things in these woods that don’t belong in towns.”
Something coiled tight inside her—not rage, not fear. Resolve.
“And there are people,” she said, “who come into towns pretending they’re helping.”
The older man laughed quietly. “Sharp tongue.”
“Sharp ears,” she corrected.
The moment stretched—then footsteps approached from the side.
A local man stepped forward. “She’s not trouble,” he said nervously. “Lena’s always kept to herself.”
Another voice joined in. Then another.
The hunters noticed. Their posture shifted subtly—not retreating, but reassessing. Public places changed the rules.
“We’ll be around,” the older man said finally. “If you remember anything unusual, you come find us.”
He handed her a card.
Lena took it.
The men turned and walked away.
Only when they were out of sight did Lena’s shoulders loosen slightly.
Calen appeared beside her as if he’d always been there.
“That was close,” he said quietly.
“They weren’t fishing,” Lena replied. “They were narrowing.”
“Yes.”
Jonah burst out of the house then, eyes wild. “What the hell was that?”
“Inside,” Lena said immediately.
This time, she didn’t wait to see if he listened.
Jonah paced the length of the living room like a caged animal.
“They knew your name,” he said. “They looked at you like—like you were already guilty.”
“They’re afraid,” Lena said. “People do dangerous things when they’re afraid.”
Jonah stopped. “Are you afraid?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
The honesty surprised them both.
“But I’m not lost,” she added.
He studied her face, really looked at her, and something shifted in his expression. “You’ve changed.”
“I know.”
“How?”
Lena opened her mouth—and stopped.
Words crowded her throat, demanding release. The truth pressed hard now, heavier than before. But she could still hear Calen’s warning in her mind. Timing mattered. Control mattered.
“I can’t tell you everything,” she said carefully. “Not yet.”
Jonah’s voice rose. “Not yet? Lena, men with guns just came looking for you.”
“I know.”
“And you’re telling me to wait?”
“I’m telling you,” she said softly, “that knowing right now would put you in danger.”
Silence fell.
Then Jonah sat heavily on the couch. “I don’t like being shut out.”
“I don’t like shutting you out.”
A beat passed.
“Just promise me something,” he said.
“What?”
“If this gets worse—if you’re in real danger—you don’t disappear without telling me.”
Lena closed her eyes briefly. Then nodded. “I promise.”
Outside, a low vibration rippled through the air—felt more than heard.
Calen stiffened.
Lena felt it too.
The forest wasn’t watching anymore.
It was responding.
Her gaze drifted to the window, toward the distant treeline.
Something was moving.
And whatever line had been crossed last night was being erased—replaced with something far more permanent.
The hunters had asked their questions.
Now the forest would answer.
- Writer
