NOLA
The unease follows me into the mansion like a second shadow.
It sits in my chest, heavy and restless, growing louder every time I glance towards the forest beyond the back windows. The trees stand too still today, their dark line cutting into the sky like a warning I can't read yet. I try to busy myself, moving from room to room, touching surfaces I've touched a thousand times before, but nothing settles to me.
Something is calling.
Not in words. Not in sound. Just a pull, low, persistent. As if the forest is breathing and I'm slowly learning the rhythm.
I end up in the backyard without fully deciding to. The grass is cool beneath my feet, damp from the morning dew, and the air smells sharp, green, alive. I scan the ground and my breath catches.
The footprints are back.
They're
