Chapter 1
1059 Words
THE CABIN
Crimson Stone Pack
"Mom! Mom! I'm scared, Mom. Please, Mom, come get me now! I'm really scared!"
Her voice cracked, the desperate cries swallowed by the roar of the fire. Smoke curled around her like a living thing, thick and suffocating, searing her throat with every panicked breath.
She curled herself into a tight ball, trembling, pressing herself into the only patch of floor not yet licked by the relentless flames. Her tiny body shook with silent sobs, her tear-streaked face smeared with soot.
A loud c***k split the air. A burning log crashed down just inches from her elbow, embers exploding in all directions. She screamed, flinching away as a wave of scorching heat lashed at her skin.
"Mommy... Daddy... please, come get me!"
The fire was closing in. More logs tumbled, crashing dangerously close, each one a deadly warning. She scrambled to her feet, wobbling and dizzy, but the thick smoke clawed at her lungs.
"Daddy—"
Her words strangled into a cough, her chest convulsing as she fought to breathe. The more she gasped, the less air she seemed to get. It was like drowning—except there was no water, only heat, only smoke, only the crushing weight of the fire stealing her breath away.
Her legs buckled. She collapsed, the world tilting, her tiny fingers clawing weakly at the floor. She had no strength left to run, no voice left to scream. Tears spilled freely down her dirt-streaked cheeks, but she barely noticed.
She wasn’t even thinking anymore—wasn’t sure if she even could. Her body felt like a hollow shell, crushed beneath exhaustion and the unbearable heat pressing down on her like an unseen hand. She groaned, her entire being reduced to pain—a throbbing skull, aching limbs, burning skin. It felt like she'd been trampled by a thousand stampeding beasts, every bone drained of life.
Through half-lidded eyes, she barely saw it.
A massive log, wreathed in fire, dislodged from above, plunging straight toward her.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
And waited.
"Ting, ting, ting."
***
"Ting, ting, ting."
She woke up to the shrill beeping of her alarm clock. Sweat clung to her skin, soaking through her clothes, while hot, silent tears streaked down her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven gasps, her heart hammering against her ribs like a caged animal.
Just like always.
Swallowing hard, she forced herself upright, dragging a shaky hand through her damp hair. The lingering traces of sleep clung to her mind like cobwebs, distorting reality with the echoes of a nightmare she had long since memorized. She exhaled sharply, pushing it aside.
Her bleary gaze flickered to the alarm clock. 4:03.
Shit.
In an instant, she was on her feet, her sluggish limbs springing to life. She rushed into the bathroom—or rather, what used to be one. The cracked mirror reflected a ghost of herself, dark circles etched beneath her hollow eyes. She didn’t linger. She had seven minutes to get herself together and another three to make it to the kitchen.
There was no room for delays.
***
The scent of warm bread and sizzling meat filled the small kitchen, mingling with the faint smokiness of the stove. She moved with practiced efficiency, placing the last plate on the long wooden dining table. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to admire the setup—the neatly arranged dishes, the silverware reflecting the dim kitchen light.
If things were different, maybe she would’ve stayed a little longer. Maybe she would’ve let herself enjoy the normalcy of it.
But she knew better.
A quick glance out the window told her the clouds were already shifting from deep gray to soft orange. The sky was waking. Time was slipping through her fingers.
She did a mental checklist, scanning every detail, every corner. Nothing out of place. Or at least, none that she could think of at the moment.
With that, she spun on her heel and bolted—no, limped—toward the stairs, her body protesting every rushed movement. She grabbed her sweater from where she had left it, yanked it over her head, and, without a second thought, ran.
It didn’t matter how many times she tried to picture it differently.
The day always started with her running toward the morning—
And always ended with her lying in the flames at night.
***
She moved swiftly through the trees, her breath ragged, the cold air biting against her flushed skin. The towering pines stood like silent sentinels, their dark silhouettes blurring past as she pushed herself forward.
Eva’s place. That was her destination.
A lone log cabin sitting at the farthest habitable edge of the pack lands, tucked away from curious eyes. Isolated, secluded. Safe.
Eva, a witch by birth and choice, had made it clear that she needed solitude. Privacy. The kind of quiet only the wilderness could provide. That’s why she lived out there, beyond the reach of most pack residents.
Not that she was complaining.
Her feet pounded against the earth, each step sending vibrations through her already aching legs. The ground was uneven, littered with roots and hidden dips that threatened to trip her, but she barely noticed. The only thing that mattered was getting there.
The sun had risen now, its golden fingers stretching through the thick canopy, dappling the forest floor in shifting patterns of light and shadow. But to her, it wasn’t a sign of a new day.
It was a warning.
She was running out of time.
Adrenaline surged through her veins, dulling the pain that flared each time her foot struck the ground. She forced herself forward, cutting through the undergrowth, dodging branches, and leaping over fallen logs. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out the forest’s morning sounds.
She had made it past the cluster of pack homes, but not far enough.
A familiar, suffocating dread clawed at her chest. The fear of what might be coming. Or, more terrifyingly… who?
She didn’t dare look back.
Instead, she pushed harder, faster—ignoring the burning in her legs, the ache in her ribs, the exhaustion weighing her down. The only thought seared into the back of her mind was her target.
The cabin.
And she wasn’t stopping until she reached it.
- Writer
