We ate together in a quiet circle, the fire casting its soft, flickering glow across our tired faces. No one said it aloud, but the silent glances we exchanged said enough—we needed this. Not just the food, but the stillness. The calm. The fragile illusion of normalcy in a world that had given us so little of it.

The sound of chewing, the occasional sip from a flask, and the low hum of the jungle filled the quiet around us. Slowly, the sky deepened to a dusky blue, then to a blanket of deep purple.

Emily’s gaze lifted toward the trees above us. The branches arched like skeletal fingers against the darkening sky. “Should we start looking for a spot in the trees?” 

I followed her gaze, noting that the trees in this area were far smaller than usual. “Doesn’t look like these trees will hold us tonight,” I murmured.

Amelia, crouched near the fire, and poked gently at the embers with a stick. The flames flared a little, throwing fresh light on her face. “We’ll stay here,” she said. “Keep the fire going, and the person on watch keeps the gun close.”

We all nodded, quietly resigned. The forest pressed in around us, a living wall of noise and movement. Still, the fire felt like a barrier between us and the dark.

Henry leaned back against a tree trunk, adjusting the cracked shell he’d strapped to his shoulder. “Well, at least if something shows up, I’ll look terrifying,” he said, striking a pose.

Ella rolled her eyes and bumped him gently with her elbow. “Or delicious.”

He gasped in feigned offense, exaggerating the motion as he polished the shell with the corner of his shirt. “Hey, this is premium armor. It’ll protect me from everything… well, except your sarcasm.”

Shaking my head from their bickering, I stood slowly, brushing dirt from my hands and stretching the stiffness from my shoulders. As I moved away from the firelight, Benjamin looked up from where he sat, his brow raised.

“Going somewhere?”

“Just thinking we should set some traps,” I replied, glancing toward the trees. “Nothing fancy. Just something that might give us a heads-up if anything gets close.”

He nodded and stood, grabbing a coil of cord from his bag. “Good thinking.”

Together we moved along the edges of our camp, quietly working in tandem. We wedged sticks into the soil, strung twine between trees, and stacked dry branches that would crack loudly if disturbed. Nothing that would stop anything, but something that might buy us a second or two.

Benjamin paused as he tied a knot around a low limb. “You know, this reminds me of when I was a kid,” he muttered beside me. “My brother and I used to make little snares for rabbits behind our house. Thought we were wilderness masters.”

I looked up, curious. “You grew up in the woods?”

He smiled faintly, his fingers tugging on the line to test the tension. “More like on the edge of them. My brother Luke, though, was all in. Knew every trail, every trick. He’d drag me out with him even when I wanted to stay home. Taught me how to read animal tracks, how to fish without bait, how to sleep in the rain and still wake up dry.” His smile faded slightly as his gaze drifted toward the firelight. “He passed away a few years ago. But everything I know started with him.”

I nodded, returning to the trap in front of me. “Sounds like he left a hell of a legacy.”

Benjamin’s voice dropped slightly. “Yeah… he did.”

He looked up after a beat, turning the question around. “What about you? Where’d you learn this kind of thing?”

I hesitated, focusing intently on tightening the cord. "Military," I finally answered. "Spent years learning survival techniques, setting traps and alarms far more dangerous than these."

Benjamin tilted his head, intrigued. "Sounds intense. Got any stories?"

"Plenty," I admitted with a slight smirk, recalling the countless creative contraptions I'd encountered. "I've seen guys rig up alarms from tin cans and rocks, traps from almost nothing at all. just whatever scraps we had lying around. Sometimes the simplest traps were the most effective."

Benjamin chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, Luke always said simplicity was key. Overcomplicating a trap meant it probably wouldn't work."

A comfortable silence settled between us as we continued our work. The sounds of the forest around us creating a gentle backdrop. After a few moments, Benjamin glanced at me again, curious. "What about the people you served with? You still keep in touch with any of them?"

My movements faltered slightly as cold emptiness settled in my chest, memories of faces and voices that I had long since buried.

"Not anymore," I replied quietly, my voice clipped.

Benjamin paused, clearly picking up on the shift in my mood. He just gave a quiet nod of understanding. “Okay.”

We finished setting the last of the traps in silence, each of us retreating inward, thoughts swirling unspoken between the trees. When we returned to the camp, the fire was burning low, casting tired orange halos across the clearing. I sank with my back against the base of a tree, the bark rough against my shoulders, and let my eyes relax.

Benjamin lingered near the perimeter a moment longer, double-checking the traps. His silhouette flickered in and out of view, caught in the wavering light of the fire before he finally returned to the group, settling down without a word.

Sleep didn’t come easily.

It crept in slowly, fragmented, like water leaking through cracks. My thoughts drifted as the warmth of the fire cradled me, the distant sounds of the jungle fading into a soft, rhythmic hum.

Then, in the haze of sleep, I saw it.

A field, endless and impossibly green, rolled out to the edge of sight. The grass swayed in slow, lazy waves, stirred by a warm breeze that carried the scent of summer. Above, the sky stretched clear and blue, so open it felt weightless.

At the heart of it all stood a single, colossal tree—ancient and proud. Its roots, thick and gnarled, rose from the earth like the bones of the land itself, wide enough to serve as a path or a shelter. Its vast canopy spilled across the horizon, each leaf catching the sunlight until the ground below was painted in shifting pools of gold.

Laughter echoed across the field.

Children’s voices – joyful and unburdened. They ran in circles around the tree, their shadows flickering like birds in the sun. I couldn’t see their faces, but I felt the happiness, the peace. A memory, maybe. Or something my mind had conjured to soothe the weight of everything outside.

But then...

The sky dimmed.

A dry wind swept through the grass, turning green to brown. Leaves shriveled, curling inward. The laughter grew faint, strained. And then came the dust – rust-colored, like powdered blood, rising from the soil in slow, choking clouds. It swallowed the field, clouded the sky, and the tree, once vibrant and alive, began to wither.

I stirred, blinking awake with a sharp inhale. My chest was tight, my body cold with sweat. But as I looked around at the softly crackling fire, I saw Nothing but trees all around us.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake the dream from my head. My pulse slowed. But when I lay back down, the dream returned, frayed at the edges but persistent.

The tree stood alone now, stripped of life, its bark cracked and weeping. The field was barren. The children were gone. Only the sound of wind remained, no longer warm, but hollow.

Then a faint giggle floated through the expanse… no…that wasn't right.

The sound didn't come from the dream.

My eyes snapped open again, and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever truly fallen asleep. The giggle echoed through the camp, sounding eerily like that of a child, but something was off. It drifted between the trees like a taunt, paired with soft, skittering footsteps in the brush nearby.

My limbs felt heavy, my mind blurred with exhaustion. I hovered in that space between waking and dreaming, every sound louder than it should’ve been. The forest breathed around us, and the fire felt like the only thing holding the darkness at bay.

Then, something touched me.

I shot up, knife half-drawn, until I saw her.

Emily knelt beside me, wide-eyed and trembling.

“Atlas,” she whispered, barely louder than the fire’s hiss. “Something’s coming.”

I blinked hard, shoving off the fog of sleep as I sat up. Then, looking down, I saw that Emily gripped Amelia’s gun in trembling hands, the barrel aimed toward the edge of the clearing.

 Following her line of sight, I caught a glimpse of a small shape slowly approaching through the trees.

“What the…” I muttered, losing the words as the figure stepped into the glow of the firelight, and for a moment I didn't breathe. It was… wrong.

It wasn’t a child—not really. It looked like one at first glance: small, unsteady on its legs, arms shifting as it walked. But it was made entirely of water. A fluid form, glistening like moonlight on a pond, stumbled forward, each motion rippling through its translucent body. Light from the fire danced inside it, twisting through liquid like it was caught in a dream.

And then, the laughter returned.

But not just from one place.

It came from all around – echoing through the forest like a chorus of broken children, high-pitched and manic. 

The figure didn’t stop as it walked into our camp and up to the fire. It seemed to stare at the fire for a moment before stepping once, then again, into the flames as its form wavered, then collapsed with a splash. Steam hissed violently as the fire went out in a burst of sizzling mist, plunging us into darkness.

“What's going on?” Henry asked, clearly confused as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Before anyone could answer, Ella screamed.

"Something's got my leg!" Her voice cracked, wild with fear. Then there was frantic thrashing as if something was being dragged away, then nothing. 

“Ella!” Amelia called out, scrambling blindly in the dark.

Then, a sharp gasp as Ella stumbled back into the group, sobbing and clutching at Amelia.

“It grabbed me,” she cried. “Something grabbed me!”

“What was it? Did you see it?” Henry whispered as if afraid to attract its attention. 

Shaking her head, she just clung closer to Amelia as we all scanned the darkness. 

Though without the fire, we couldn't see more than a few feet ahead. But there was one thing that remained. And that was the laughter.

All around us, the things laughed, as if they gained enjoyment from toying with us.

“Stay together!” Amelia snapped, her voice low but fierce, cutting through the mounting panic.

“What th—?!” Benjamin’s startled cry rang out—

Thud.

A rush of movement tore through the dark, followed by the harsh scrape of something dragging across the forest floor. Before any of us could react, Benjamin was gone, his muffled yell swallowed instantly by the thick, suffocating darkness beyond the firelight.

“Benjamin!” Owen shouted, bolting toward the sound before vanishing into the dark.

“No!” I barked, already stepping forward to stop him, but a hand clamped on my arm and yanked me back with startling force.

“Atlas, don’t!” Amelia hissed. “He made his choice, but we can’t split up.”

I froze, teeth grinding. Why would he just run after him like that? Reckless idiot. we don’t even know what’s out there. The thought burned hot in my head, but under it was something worse: the sting of knowing I hadn’t moved fast enough to do the same.

Frustration clawed up my chest. My hand tightened around my knife, my body begging me to fight, to do something. But Amelia’s grip was unyielding, and I knew she was right.

Still… Benjamin’s cry clung to me. The sound of him being swallowed by the dark nagged at me. Giving me the feeling of utter helplessness.

Then, without warning, something wet and impossibly strong coiled around my ankle.

I barely had time to gasp before I was yanked off my feet. My body hit the ground with a jarring thud, the breath tearing from my lungs. Pain flashed through my side as I was dragged violently into the underbrush, scraping over roots and stone. The campfire’s remaining embers vanished behind me in seconds, swallowed by the dark.

“Atlas!” I heard someone yell, but it was already too far away.

I twisted violently as I kicked at whatever had me. My heel connected with something weird. There was a sudden splash, and the grip loosened.

For a split second, I was free.

I clawed at the ground, digging my fingers into the damp earth, trying to slow myself. My heart thundered in my chest, lungs gasping for air.

Then it grabbed me again.

It snatched me around the calf this time, tighter, and yanked with such force that I lost all traction. My fingers slipped from the soil, nails bending painfully backward.

“No!” I barely managed to shout before my body slammed into a thick root. White-hot pain exploded in my ribs, and I crumpled around it with a strangled gasp. My limbs flailed, reaching for anything, but the world spun uncontrollably around me.

Then came the rock.

The back of my head cracked against it as my vision smothered into black.