Beneath the moon

Chapter One: Return to Ashwood The scent of pine hit Elena Ward before she even stepped off the train. Crisp, sharp, and unmistakably familiar. Ashwood hadn’t changed much in ten years not the dark tree lines that boxed in the town, not the heavy gray sky that always threatened rain, and definitely not the silence that greeted newcomers like a warning. She stepped onto the gravel platform with a single duffel bag slung over her shoulder, boots crunching beneath her. Her phone had lost signal somewhere outside of Clearwater. Typical. She didn’t need it anyway. There was nothing left for her in the city. Ashwood’s welcome sign hadn’t been updated since she was a teenager. The white paint was peeling, and someone had drawn a pair of fangs on the smiling deer mascot. It made her smirk for half a second before the weight of her purpose sank in again. The wildlife department had called it a routine assignment monitoring an increase in predator sightings and animal attacks around the forest perimeter. But Elena knew better. She had read between the lines. She had seen the images the sheriff’s office had quietly shared with the department. Whatever killed those hikers wasn’t a bear. Not even close. Her aunt had offered to pick her up, but Elena declined. She needed the walk. Needed to feel the earth under her boots and the sting of the cold wind on her skin. She needed to see if the trees still whispered the way they did when she was a girl. It was nearly dusk when she reached the house her childhood home tucked into the edge of the forest, where the shadows crept just a little deeper. It looked smaller than she remembered, like time had bent it inward. The porch still creaked under her step, and the wind chime above the door played its haunting tune in the breeze. She hesitated with the key in the lock. Memories hit her like the wind her brother’s laughter echoing through the halls, the way he used to dare her to go into the woods after dark. Then, just like that, he was gone. A missing persons report. A search party. A funeral without a body. All in the same year she turned sixteen. Inside, the house smelled like cedar and dust. The furniture was covered in white sheets, and the air was cold, untouched. She set her bag down and walked to the back door, drawn to the tree line like a magnet. The woods looked exactly the same. Dark. Endless. Waiting. A low rustle stirred the bushes nearby. Elena froze. She squinted, reaching slowly for the flashlight hooked to her belt. But before she could switch it on, the noise stopped. “Just the wind,” she whispered, trying to convince herself. But she stayed there a moment longer, watching. The silence had changed. Not broken just… different. Heavier. Something had watched her come home.