Night had fully fallen by the time Ethan returned.
The c***k of branches startled me. I had spent hours in silence, tending the fire, watching the shadows stretch over the still bodies of Caleb and Mara. The forest smelled of dampness and fear—the kind of scent you learn to recognize when the hunt has turned against the hunters.
Ethan emerged from the trees, his back covered in leaves, a smear of mud along his neck. He was dragging the body of a deer over his shoulders, still fresh, its eyes open and tongue hanging limp.
“Found this downstream,” he said, letting the carcass drop beside the fire.
I stood quickly.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. But I almost was.”
The way he said it made my blood run cold. His gaze was hard, fixed on nothing; every movement sharp and deliberate. This wasn’t the
