The camp clearing looked like an oasis of light in the pitch-black sea of the forest. The full moon hung high, its glow washing over the tents and grass, creating a fragile circle of safety. Beyond it, shadows stirred, and the sound of snapping branches signaled the creature was still out there—prowling, hungry.
Indra collapsed to his knees beside Ben, gasping for breath. His right forearm was torn open, blood dripping warm between his fingers. Ben, his face partly covered in blood from a deep gash on his head, was trembling. Both of them fumbled open their first-aid kits with shaking hands.
"D-Don't move."
Indra's voice wavered with pain and adrenaline as he pulled the antiseptic spray from his kit and began cleaning Ben's wound.
The sharp smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of blood and damp earth. Ben hissed, clenching his fists against the sting. Indra then wrapped his friend's head in gauze, tying it tight.
"Thank you…" Ben murmured weakly.
"You… you saw what he did to Dean, didn't you?"
Indra swallowed hard as he opened his own kit to treat the gash on his arm. He soaked a cloth with saline and cleaned the wound, gritting his teeth against the pain.
"I saw." His voice came out almost as a whisper. "Ottis… he… he turned into something. He wasn't human anymore. And Dean…" The memory of their friend being torn apart sent a shiver down his spine.
Ben took a shaky breath, clutching the sides of his head as if trying to keep his thoughts from shattering.
"He was our friend…" Ben's voice cracked.
"How did this happen? How did he turn into… that?"
Indra tied the bandage around his forearm, feeling the cut throb. His gaze drifted to the trees surrounding the clearing, where dense shadows seemed to move with a life of their own. At one point, yellow eyes flashed briefly in the darkness, followed by a low growl.
"I don't know, Ben." Indra forced himself to stay calm. "But we have to get out of here before the moon is covered. When the clouds pass over, the clearing will go dark… and that thing will be able to reach us."
They both looked up at the sky: thick clouds were slowly advancing, pushed along by a cold breeze.
"We can't stay here." Ben tried to stand but staggered. Indra caught him just in time.
"Maybe we can climb those taller trees over there."
Indra pointed to a line of towering pines at the edge of the clearing.
"If we can get high enough, maybe the creature won't be able to follow."
Heavy footsteps circled the clearing, shifting from left to right. The shadows writhed as if the darkness itself was alive. Each crack of a branch made them flinch.
"Climb?" Ben looked at Indra's injured arm and his own unsteady legs. "Do you really think we can?"
Indra met his friend's gaze, fear and determination mixing on his face. Then he pulled the last bullet from his pocket, loaded it into the revolver, and locked the cylinder with a metallic click.
"We don't have a choice, Ben. When the moon disappears, we either climb… or we die."
A low howl echoed beyond the tree line, dragging out like a promise of death. They both knew time was running out.
As they took turns helping each other tighten bandages and organize what was left of their backpacks, they kept casting anxious glances at the moon, silently begging it to hold the clouds at bay just a little longer.
The moonlit clearing was their only salvation—and the moon's clock was ticking.