Aira had searched for a hundred different excuses… none of which came. Every time she tried to refuse, Mary’s voice cut through her like a blade, firm and mocking. And so, with no escape left to cling to, she found herself sitting stiffly in the back seat of Adi’s car, her forehead resting against the cold window. The world outside blurred into streaks of green and brown—villages fading away, trees growing taller, shadows swallowing the sunlight inch by inch.
But her thoughts were the thickest fog of all.
She hugged her bag close, breathing unevenly. Cane sat in front, chatting casually with Adi, unaware of the turmoil twisting inside her chest. Mary and Cam whispered among themselves, occasionally glancing back at Aira with smirks she pretended not to see.
The car slowed, crunching gravel beneath its wheels, and finally rolled to a stop.
Aira blinked rapidly, pulled from her haze as the door opened and a rush of unfamiliar mountain air flooded in. They had stopped at the outskirts of a quiet village—one so small it looked like only a handful of families lived there. A tall man with stern eyes approached them.
“Uncle Sam!” Adi called out.
The man gave all of them a polite nod. “Welcome guys, hope the road was not too rough. Well the lunch is ready inside.”
They sat for lunch. The others talked, laughed, clattered spoons. Aira barely touched her food.
After they finished, Mary leaned back in her chair, stretching lazily. “We should head out soon,” she suggested. “It gets harder to check the forest at night, right?”
Uncle Sam nodded. “Stay near the car and don’t wander too far. The forest isn’t like any other. Things change when the sun goes down.”
Aira’s stomach knotted.
Still… the group agreed, and of course, Aira was assigned the window seat again. Easy access. Easy to shove out. Easy to silence.
As the car rattled toward the forest trail, Aira’s heartbeat thumped painfully fast. Her breath came shorter with each turn. Sweat dampened her palms, and her throat felt tight.
Why did it feel like they weren’t just going to explore? Why did her fear feel so justified?
The road climbed a small hill. From there, a vast view of the forest unfolded—thick, ancient, almost breathing.
Uncle Sam warned, “Hold on. The cliff edge is narrow here.”
Mary’s grin sharpened. Cam leaned forward in excitement. Cane stared at the trees with an unreadable expression, but Aira couldn’t find any comfort even in his silence.
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Her heart pounded as the cliff approached.
The car slowed.
The door beside her clicked.
Her eyes widened.
A cold blast of air swept in, swallowing her breath.
Aira saw the drop. She saw the endless wall of trees waiting below. And before she could grab anything—before she could even scream—
A sudden shove hit her shoulder.
She stumbled—
—fell—
—and the forest swallowed her whole.
Her scream tore from her throat too late, lost against the wind and branches scraping her skin. She crashed against the undergrowth, the impact knocking the breath out of her lungs.
For a moment, everything went silent.
She lay there, stunned, staring up at the cliff’s outline far above. No voices. No footsteps. No one climbing down to help her.
They were gone.
They had left her for dead.
Aira’s entire body trembled as she pushed herself upright. She opened her mouth, hoping for a cry of help to escape, but nothing came out—only a weak, choking gasp.
Her eyes burned with tears.
No one is coming, whispered the darkest corner of her mind. You’re alone.
Dusk settled fast—too fast. The birds’ chirping faded into distant echoes, replaced by the eerie buzzing of insects hidden in the shadows. The cool breeze swept through the branches, brushing against her skin like a warning.
When Aira finally forced her eyes open fully, she realized something terrifying:
There was no sound except the wind.
No voices.
No footsteps.
Not even the fading hum of the car.
The forest was a void.
Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably. She hugged herself, rocking in place. “Please… someone… please…”
Her voice was barely a whisper.
The temperature suddenly dropped. Something rustled behind her. At first, she thought it was just leaves shifting—but then the sound grew heavier, slower, deliberate.
Something was approaching.
Her heart hammered wildly as she wiped her tears—and froze.
A serpent slid out from behind the bushes.
But not like any she had seen before.
Its scales shimmered faintly. Its eyes glowed with a strange golden spark. And it was big. Far bigger than any normal forest snake.
It lifted its head high, staring straight at her.
Aira’s breath hitched.
Then she ran.
She stumbled over roots and rocks, her shoes slipping on damp soil. Branches whipped her face. The forest thickened around her, every sound magnified—crunching leaves under her feet, her ragged breathing, the slithering pursuit behind her.
She wasn’t just scared.
She was injured, limping slightly, and the forest noticed.
Its sounds changed—whispers, low groans of branches bending unnaturally.
Her focus tunneled to one thing: survive.
A distant howl shattered the air.
Aira froze mid-step.
A wolf.
Not just any wolf—its howl carried a deeper vibration that echoed in her bones.
The cry came again, closer this time. Aira’s tears welled up all over again. Her ears strained to catch every sound, but each rustle, each crack, felt like it was right behind her.
Then… she heard another howl.
Another.
And another.
They were surrounding her.
Aira’s legs shook as she pressed her back to a tree, trying to steady her breathing. She looked up, desperate for anything—light, hope, guidance.
And that’s when she saw it.
Standing on a ledge of the tall cliff was a massive wolf with dark gray fur, its coat shimmering in the dying light. Its eyes—golden, blazing like twin suns—locked onto hers.
Her heart sank.
It was coming for her.
She didn’t think.
She didn’t plan.
Aira turned and bolted deeper into the forest—
—running without direction, without hope, without breath—
—but alive.
