A black foot eased down onto the jungle floor.
Stones, dead branches, and rotting leaves covered the ground. The foot pressed lower, toes spreading slightly, searching for the quietest place to land.
A soft crunch.
A spike—thumb-thick, sharpened bone—drove straight up through the sole.
No recoil.
No pause.
The foot continued forward, grinding down until the spike snapped with a dull crack.
Splinters sank deep into flesh.
Still, no blood came.
The thing walked on.
Its gait was stiff but practiced, every step measured. It moved like something that remembered how sound worked—what noise cost, and what silence bought.
Ten paces behind it, a tall, narrow figure emerged from the trees.
The man said nothing.
He lifted one hand and pointed toward the slope ahead. Two fingers curled inward in a small, deliberate gesture.
Take them.
The creature inclined its head once.
Its pale eyes locked onto the shapes at the crest of the hill.
At the top of the slope, a fallen tree lay half-dead, bark split and curling like old scars.
Two youths sat on it.
Fourteen or fifteen, no more.
The girl swung her legs as she talked, unaware of the way the forest had begun to lean toward them. The last of the sunset painted her cheeks warm red, healthy and alive.
"You were a mess chasing that rabbit today."
She tilted her head and smiled.
The boy beside her snorted."I was not. I'm just tired."
"You tripped three times."
"That's because I don't like blood," he said, looking away."But I still caught it alive."
"That rabbit ran straight into a stump."
His ears warmed. He didn't argue.
"…I'll roast it for you tonight," he muttered."My treat."
The girl paused. Then smiled again."All right."
Wei did not smile back.
He was listening.
The forest had gone wrong.
He didn't know when it had happened—only that the air felt tighter, as if the trees were holding their breath. His fingers had stilled on the bark beside him without his noticing.
Then—
Crack.
A dry branch snapped somewhere downhill.
The sound was small. In the quiet woods, it traveled too far.
Wei turned his head sharply.
Darkness pooled between the trees, thickening as the sun slipped lower. Shadows stacked, overlapping like crooked walls.
"Don't talk," he said flatly.
The girl froze."What is it?"
"Something's there." His hand had already found the knife at his belt. The handle was cold. Real."Maybe a beast."
She stood and lifted the basket of firewood, holding it in front of her like a shield she knew wouldn't work.
They waited.
The wind moved through leaves.
A night bird called once, sharp and brief.
Then silence returned.
Too clean.
Wei's eyes narrowed.
He had grown up in this forest. Silence like this didn't mean nothing. It meant something had stopped everything else from moving.
"…Maybe you heard wrong," the girl whispered.
Wei didn't answer immediately.
He was counting.
Three heartbeats.
Four.
Five.
Nothing came.
"…Maybe," he said at last, though his shoulders hadn't relaxed."Come on. It's getting dark."
They started down the narrow path toward the village.
Halfway down, the smell reached them.
The girl slowed first."Wei…"
She sniffed again."Do you smell that?"
He did.
Smoke.
Not wood smoke.
Not cooking fire.
Something sharp, greasy, wrong.
Like fat burned too long.
Like wet ash mixed with rot.
Like something that had once been alive and should not have been burned at all.
"The wind's wrong," she whispered."It's coming from the village."
Wei's stomach dropped.
"I know."
They walked faster.
The smoke thickened, stinging their eyes. The light ahead fractured into broken red reflections, firelight tearing tree shadows into jagged shapes.
"Maybe it's just Old Goat's shed again," she said, too quickly.
Wei didn't answer.
The forest had gone silent again.
No insects.
No birds.
No dogs barking from the village.
They reached the tree line and stopped.
The gate stood open.
One hinge hung loose.
The fence beside it had been torn open by claws.
Black smoke rolled between the houses.
Ash drifted down, settling on roofs, on ground, on half-dead fires.
Wei felt his pulse in his throat.
Places that burned were supposed to be loud.
Shouting. Screaming. Movement.
This place was quiet.
Wrong quiet.
The girl grabbed his wrist. Hard.
"Wei…"
He followed her gaze.
By the well stood a horse.
For a heartbeat, his mind tried to make sense of it.
Then it failed.
The horse's flesh was gone.
Ribs gleamed white in the dark, sharp as fingers. Its head dipped as it tore at something on the ground.
Chew.
Crack.
Blood dripped from bare teeth.
Slow. Heavy drops pooling beneath it.
Then Wei noticed something else.
One of the horse's leg bone, was split.
Not broken cleanly.
Cracked, as if something had struck it long ago and failed to finish the job.
A thick, dark fluid clung to the fracture.
It didn't flow.
It seeped.
The horse did not limp.
Wei crouched instantly, pulling the girl down beside him.
He knew.
They were too late.
But even as that certainty settled in his chest, something else rose alongside it.
Not panic.
Not shock.
Recognition.
The thing by the well was feeding—but not like an animal.
It was careful.
Methodical.
As if it understood what it was taking.
Wei's grip tightened on the knife.
Somewhere deep in his chest, a thought surfaced—quiet, unwanted, but clear:
If this thing can bleed… it can be hurt.
He didn't say it.
He didn't move.
But the forest seemed to lean closer, listening.
And far uphill, where the slope vanished into shadow, a pale-eyed creature began to descend—already certain its prey had nowhere left to run.