The night hung thick around the small cabin like a cloak, heavy with silence and a kind of ominous stillness that made Evelyn’s skin prickle. She sat by the narrow window, her back pressed against the rough wood of the frame, her fingers gripping the ledge. The fire had burned low in the corner of the room, casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls like fleeting ghosts. But it wasn’t the shadows or the dim light that unsettled her—it was the night itself.
Leona had been gone for what felt like hours, though Evelyn knew that the forest was vast, and she had no reason to worry yet. Even so, the nagging sense of unease in her chest wouldn’t go away. Every small rustle of leaves, every whisper of wind in the trees, made her pulse quicken, her eyes snapping toward the darkness out
