The man stepped into the thin beam of light cutting through the trees. At first glance he was familiar—someone from town, someone I must've passed on the street yesterday. But the longer I looked, the more wrong he became.
His posture was too straight.
His head tilted too far to the side, like he was studying us the way a predator studies something trapped.
And his smile…
That smile didn't belong on any human face.
Addison backed up until she hit the tree behind her. "Don't talk to it."
My pulse spiked. "What is it?"
"It isn't a person. It just uses them."
The man took another step forward, bare feet sinking into the soft leaves like he didn't feel the cold ground at all. His eyes were dark—too dark. No reflection. No light. Just emptiness, like looking down a well with no end.
"Why are you here?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Addison grabbed my arm hard. "Don't ask it anything."
The man's head snapped toward her so fast I heard the crack of his neck. His smile widened, stretching in a way skin shouldn't. Addison flinched, but she didn't look away.
"You shouldn't be this close to the Ridge," the man said, but it wasn't his voice. It was layered—two, maybe three tones stacked over each other. Too deep. Too smooth. Wrong.
"We need to run," Addison whispered.
"Run where?" I hissed back.
The man took another step forward. Leaves didn't crunch under him. He didn't disturb anything he walked across. He wasn't moving on the forest floor—he was gliding over it.
"You can't outrun what's already following you," he murmured.
A shiver shot down my spine.
Addison pulled me behind a cluster of dense underbrush. "Don't let it touch you. If it touches you, it remembers your scent forever."
"Why is it following me?"
Addison shook her head. "Because something marked you. Because you were chosen."
"I didn't choose anything!"
"Doesn't matter."
She peeked out. The man still stood there, but now his head was tilted straight up, staring into the branches above like he was listening to something only he could hear.
Then he spoke again, voice barely audible.
"It's coming."
Addison's breath hitched. "We need to go. Now."
She yanked my hand, and we started moving as quietly as we could through the roots and mud. Every twig under my shoe sounded like a gunshot. Every branch we brushed seemed to scream our location.
"Don't look back," Addison whispered.
But I did.
The man was gone.
Just gone.
No sound. No movement. No fading shape.
One second he stood there.
The next, nothing.
My stomach twisted. "He disappeared."
Addison didn't slow her pace. "No. That thing doesn't disappear. It just picks a better spot to watch from."
We hurried deeper into the woods, leaves brushing our faces. The trees felt closer here, the air colder. The sunlight struggled to reach this part of the Ridge, and the dim light made every shadow look alive.
"How much farther?" I whispered.
Addison didn't answer at first. Her breathing grew faster, uneven. "We can't go back to your cottage. It'll tear the whole place apart."
"Then where?"
"There's an old supply shed near the creek. Hunters used it years ago. It's hidden. It'll give us time to think."
I didn't like the sound of "hidden" or "hunters" or any part of this, but I followed her anyway. Her steps grew quick and frantic, and mine tried to match.
A low rumble drifted through the trees. Not loud. Deep enough to feel in my bones.
Addison froze.
"What was that?" I whispered.
She closed her eyes. "Not the mimic."
"Mimic?"
She winced. "The thing with the human face. We call it a mimic. It copies whatever it sees. But that growl—that's something else."
"Something else?" My voice cracked.
Addison turned to me slowly. "That's the one that marked you."
The growl came again.
Closer.
I felt it before I heard it—a pressure in the air, like whatever made the sound was big enough to bend it.
"We have to move right now," Addison whispered.
We bolted.
Branches slapped our arms. Roots caught our ankles. Mud splattered our legs as we ran downhill toward the creek. The growl followed us, rolling through the trees like thunder.
It was moving faster than we were.
"Addison!" I gasped. "It's getting closer!"
"Just keep going!"
I didn't know where the shed was, but Addison did. She veered left, past a cluster of fallen logs, and sprinted along the edge of a narrow ravine. The creek gurgled below us, icy and fast.
"There!" Addison pointed.
A small wooden structure sat half-hidden behind tall ferns. Weathered. Barely holding together. But right now, it looked like a fortress.
We barreled inside, slammed the door, and locked it with the rusted bolt. The shed was dark except for a sliver of light creeping through a missing board. Dust floated in the air, thick enough to taste.
I leaned against the wall, breath ragged. "Will this hold?"
"No," Addison admitted. "But it's better than being out there."
I sank onto an overturned crate, heart pounding.
"Addison… what does it want with me?"
She sat across from me, hands shaking as she tucked her braid behind her ear. "You weren't supposed to be here. Not during the season. Not when the boundary is thin."
"The boundary between what?"
"The forest and the things that live underneath it."
A chill ran through me. "Underneath?"
She nodded slowly. "There are old stories. My family grew up hearing them. Most people don't believe them anymore. Some pretend not to. But the Ridge isn't just a forest. It's a territory. A sacred one. You crossed it without permission."
"So it marked me?"
Addison's voice softened. "It didn't mark you at random. It doesn't do anything at random."
I swallowed. "Then why?"
Addison looked at the shed door, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Because someone in town wanted it to."
Footsteps stopped outside.
Right next to the shed.
Addison's face drained of color. "It found us."
A low inhale slid through the boards, long and careful.
It was smelling for me again.
Addison grabbed my hand. "Don't move. Don't speak."
The shed went silent.
Then a familiar voice whispered through the wood—
"Found you."
My blood turned to ice.
It was the mimic.
Using a new voice.
A voice I knew.
John's.