WebNovels

Chapter 4 - Woods

Ace let out a slow, heavy breath, the sound swallowed by the unnatural quiet that clung to the edges of the clearing. The scene before him was a disaster in the making.

Everywhere he looked—teenagers laughing, shouting, recording shaky videos, daring each other to touch the rotten porch—someone was at risk. Too many people. Too careless, their bright phone screens making them perfect targets in the dark. And beneath the party noise, the woods felt wrong. The night pressed in too close, the air too still, like the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for the commotion to draw something out.

This was bad. Really, catastrophically bad.

If they fought here, in this chaos, someone would get hurt. Probably many someones. Civilians didn't understand cover, didn't understand not screaming, didn't understand that running in a straight line was a death sentence.

But if they didn't act… that low, wet sound from the trees suggested someone might die anyway, picked off from the edges of the crowd.

Ace closed his eyes for just a second, blocking out the jarring sight of the smoke machine's fog curling around a laughing girl's ankles. He forced his thoughts into a sharp, cold line. Assess. Decide. Act. He listened, filtering out the human noise, reaching for the threat.

There.

It came again from the deeper woods behind the house—a faint, wet, snuffling sound. Low. Uneven. It wasn't loud or aggressive. It was patient. Listening, just as he was.

Ace turned to Cedric, his voice dropping to a flat, operational tone. "Okay. New plan. We don't fight here. We can't."

Cedric nodded immediately, relief and tension warring on his face. "Obviously. It's a slaughter waiting to happen."

Ace's jaw tightened as he formulated the split. "You find a way to chase those idiots away. Scare them, yell, fake a cop—I don't care. Just get them off this hill. Fast." He nodded toward the dark tree line where the sound had originated. "I'll head toward that noise and figure out what we're dealing with. Get a visual, understand its pattern."

Cedric blinked, the plan registering. "Wait—what?" He grabbed Ace's arm before he could move, his grip tight. "Why do I have to handle crowd control? And why are you going alone? That's the opposite of protocol!"

Ace stopped, his muscles coiled. He met Cedric's stare.

For half a second, he hesitated. The woods ahead were a wall of black, the tree line a jagged tear of shadows against the slightly lighter sky. Somewhere in that darkness, a branch creaked—not from any wind, but from a slow, deliberate shift of weight. Something was moving. Something big.

The sound decided it. Time was up.

Ace exhaled sharply, his decision crystallizing. He looked back at Cedric, his expression stripped of any argument. "Because I'm faster than you. And I'm quieter. You're better at thinking on your feet with people. I'm better at tracking things that don't want to be found."

Cedric opened his mouth to protest, his pride clearly stung—but then another sound cut him off. A dry, rasping scrape against bark, too high up for any normal animal. Way too high.

They both froze, eyes locking. The message was clear: it was moving. Getting curious.

Cedric swallowed hard, his protest dying. The reality of their roles settled over him. "Don't do anything stupid," he muttered, releasing Ace's arm.

Ace gave him a crooked, grim smirk that held no humor. "No promises."

Without waiting another second, Ace turned and melted into a sprint, his form dropping low as he hit the edge of the clearing. His feet hit the leaf-littered dirt with soft, powerful thuds, his body weaving between the first thick trunks with an instinctual grace. In seconds, the raucous noise of the crowd began to fade behind him, replaced by the dense, waiting silence of the hunting grounds.

Cedric watched the spot where Ace had vanished, the darkness seeming to stitch itself back together.

"…Idiot," he muttered to the empty air, the word laced with helpless worry.

Then he turned back to the house, to the dozens of oblivious teens who were now his problem. The laughter near the front door grated on his nerves—too loud, too careless. A group was egging a friend on, phones raised, their flashlight beams cutting across the open doorway like beacons.

Cedric clenched his jaw. Alright. Guess it's on me.

"Focus," he whispered to himself, shutting out his worry for Ace. He pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen bright in his hands. His thumb hovered.

Think.

Running out and yelling "Monster!" was off the table. They'd either laugh or, worse, stampede toward the house for a better look. He needed authority. He needed panic. He needed a reason to run that their teenage brains would instantly, unquestioningly obey.

He scrolled quickly through his files, past music and game apps, and stopped on a soundboard utility. A smirk, thin and ruthless, tugged at his lips. "Yeah… this'll do."

Cedric cranked his phone's volume to max, aimed the speaker toward the heart of the crowd, and hit play.

WEE-OOO WEE-OOO WEE-OOO

The sound of a police siren—digitally perfect and earsplittingly loud—ripped through the night. It echoed off the trees, bounced down the hill, and shattered the party atmosphere like glass.

For one frozen, beautiful second, everyone in the clearing stopped. Laughter died mid-breath. Conversations cut off. Fifty faces snapped toward the sound, lit by panic.

Then—

"Yo, what the hell?!"

"Is that a cop?!"

"SHIT, they found us! RUN!"

Panic detonated. It was instant and total. A guy dropped a Bluetooth speaker, the music dying with a thump. A girl shrieked, pure surprise. Someone stomped out a joint like it was incriminating evidence.

"Grab your stuff! MOVE, MOVE!"

Bikes were abandoned, clattering to the ground. A kid tripped over a backpack and went down, swearing as his friends yanked him up by the arms. The group that had been daring each other at the front door now bolted straight through the overgrown yard, knocking into each other in their rush.

Cedric stepped deeper into the shadows by the trees, keeping the siren blaring, a phantom cop haunting the edges of their conscience.

"Let's go, my dad'll kill me!" someone wailed.

A kid sprinted past Cedric's hiding spot, clutching a half-empty bag of chips like a lifeline. Another pair shoved past, already arguing about whose stupid idea this had been.

Phones were everywhere—recording the chaos, calling for rides, flashlights swinging wildly and blinding each other.

Within sixty seconds, the hill was in full, chaotic retreat. The crowd streamed down the dirt path like a routed army, shouts and complaints fading with distance.

Cedric finally let out the breath he'd been holding, his shoulders slumping. He killed the siren. The sudden quiet was stunning.

He allowed himself one small, tight smile of triumph. "Worked like a charm."

Cedric's smile of triumph lasted for all of three seconds. His hunter's instincts, momentarily dulled by the success of the chaos, snapped back online. Secure the area. He stepped out from the tree line, scanning the now-empty clearing with a critical eye, counting the retreating shapes and listening for stragglers.

One. Two. Three—

His gaze swept over the trampled grass, the abandoned solo cup, the forgotten LED lantern still pulsing with a weak blue light.

Five. Six. Seven—

Then his stomach dropped.

Movement. Not down the hill with the others.

A lone figure, a boy maybe their age, had broken from the fleeing pack. Instead of following the panicked tide downhill, he darted across the far edge of the clearing, moving with a shocking, single-minded speed. He wasn't running away. He was angling toward the dense woods on the eastern side—the opposite direction Ace had gone, but the woods all the same. His head was down, his form tense, like he'd made a reckless, irrevocable decision.

"Oh no. No, no, no—"

Adrenaline, cold and sharp, shot through Cedric's veins. He killed the phantom siren on his phone, the silence that followed feeling suddenly accusing. He took off, boots skidding on the dew-slick grass before finding purchase.

"Hey!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the residual echoes of panic. "You! Stop! Don't go in there!"

The boy didn't even flinch. He didn't look back. He reached the tree line and vanished into the black maw of the forest without a pause. Whether he hadn't heard over the drumming of his own heart or simply didn't care, Cedric couldn't tell.

"Idiot," Cedric snarled under his breath, pure frustration fueling his sprint. "Absolute, legendary idiot."

By the time Cedric hit the tree line, the last sounds of the retreating crowd had faded into a distant murmur, then into nothing. The woods didn't just absorb light; they swallowed sound. The riotous noise was replaced by a dense, cottony silence, broken only by the frantic crunch of his own footsteps and the ragged sound of his breathing.

He slowed to a jog, then a careful walk, pulling a small but powerful torch from his jacket. Its beam was a scalpel cutting through the gloom, illuminating twisted roots that seemed to grasp at the air and low-hanging branches like skeletal arms.

"Fuck," Cedric muttered, the word swallowed by the trees.

He stopped completely, listening. Nothing. No footsteps ahead. No cry for help. Just the oppressive, watchful quiet.

His hand went to his jacket, fingers closing around the familiar, textured grip of his pistol. He didn't draw it yet, but the contact was a comfort. He forced his breathing to slow, falling into the controlled rhythm his mother had drilled into him. In. Hold. Out. Listen.

He moved forward again, each step placed with deliberate care, his torch beam sweeping methodically left to right.

Then he saw it—movement ahead, just beyond the pool of his light. A shift in the deeper shadows between two thick oaks.

Cedric froze, his blood turning to ice.

A shadow stood there. Tall. Utterly still. It wasn't the shape of a tree.

His grip on the torch tightened, his knuckles white. Every instinct screamed at him to raise his gun. He fought the urge.

Don't panic. Breathe. Identify.

He took one slow, silent step forward. Then another. The shadow didn't move.

"Hey," Cedric said, his voice low and steady, a forced calm laid over a bedrock of tension. "If you're trying to scare someone, congrats. You got me. Now cut the shit."

No response. No sound at all.

The shadow seemed to lean ever so slightly, and Cedric's heart slammed against his ribs. That was enough. Protocol be damned. In one fluid motion, he raised the pistol, his other hand angling the torch beam straight at the figure's center mass.

The stark white light hit not fur or sinew, but pale skin and the thread of a designer jacket.

"Shit—"

Cedric rushed forward, lowering the gun instantly, a wave of nausea replacing the combat rush. The kid—Liam—was slumped at the base of a large oak, his legs folded awkwardly beneath him like a discarded doll. His eyes were closed, head lolled to one side. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow hitches.

"Hey," Cedric said, dropping to his knees beside him. He gave the boy's shoulder a careful shake. "Hey, can you hear me? Open your eyes."

Nothing. Liam was out cold.

Cedric pressed two fingers to the boy's throat, finding a pulse. It was fast and thready, but it was there. Strong.

Alive.

Cedric let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his own adrenaline crash making his hands tremble slightly. "Thank god…"

Under the torchlight, he took in the details. The boy had brown hair, now matted with sweat and leaf litter. His jacket was expensive, some brand Cedric recognized but could never afford, now smeared with dark dirt and moss. One of his pristine sneakers was half-off, the lace dragged through mud.

Recognition clicked. Cedric had seen him in the halls, always surrounded by a particular crowd.

"…Liam Carter," he muttered, a fresh wave of exasperation washing over him. "Of course it's you. Couldn't just run home like everyone else."

As if in answer, the forest around them creaked.

Not from wind. There was no wind.

Cedric straightened up slowly, every sense screaming. He swept the torch in a wide, slow arc around the small clearing. The beam carved circles of stark light into the pressing dark, revealing nothing but trees that seemed closer than they had a moment ago.

"Okay," he whispered to himself, the reality settling in like a weight. "We're not alone. And we're not moving."

A branch snapped, the sound sharp as a gunshot in the silence. It came from deeper in the woods, in the direction the shadow had been facing.

Cedric didn't hesitate. He pulled out his phone with his free hand, the screen painfully bright. He dialed, the electronic trill absurdly loud.

Ring.

Ring.

"Yeah?" Ace answered, his voice a tense whisper, punctuated by the sound of rustling foliage. He was moving. "Talk fast."

"Bad news," Cedric said, keeping his own voice low and even. "A kid ran into the woods. I found him. He's unconscious."

There was a brief, heavy pause on the line. Then Ace swore, a single, vicious word. "You serious?"

"Yeah. Pulse is strong, but he's not waking up. And worse—this place feels wrong. Real wrong. It's too quiet. Something's still here."

Ace exhaled sharply, a staticky burst on the other end. "You get a visual? Figure out what it is?"

"No. You?"

"It ran the moment it noticed me," Ace said, frustration clear in his clipped tone. "But it's physical. Big. Cast a shadow when it moved. So no ghost or spirit shit. Something with mass. Something that didn't want to be seen yet."

"Great," Cedric muttered, his eyes never leaving the tree line. "Exactly what I wanted to hear."

"Listen," Ace continued, his voice firming with command. "Stay with the kid. Don't move him unless you have to. I'm coming back. Don't engage with anything. Just hold position."

"Hurry," Cedric said, the word tight in his throat. He glanced down at Liam's still form. "I don't like how quiet it's getting."

The line went dead.

The abrupt silence after the call felt heavier than before. Cedric shoved the phone back into his pocket, the brief connection to Ace severed. He was alone again, with the unconscious boy and the listening dark.

He crouched beside Liam, his movements efficient. He slipped off his own worn leather jacket, ignoring the chill that immediately bit through his shirt, and draped it over the boy's shoulders. It was a small gesture, pointless in the grand scheme of survival, but it felt necessary. Human.

"Real brave move," Cedric murmured, his voice barely a breath. "Running into the woods alone. Bet you thought you'd be the hero, huh? Find a clue. Prove everyone wrong." He adjusted the jacket, his fingers brushing against cold skin. "Now you're just a liability."

The words were harsh, but the fear behind them was real. A liability meant they were anchored. A liability meant they couldn't run.

From the direction Ace had originally vanished, a new sound cut through the oppressive quiet—not the slow, predatory noises from before, but the fast, urgent thrash of someone moving without caution. Footsteps pounded through the undergrowth, snapping twigs and crushing leaves in a headlong rush.

Cedric spun on his heel, pistol rising in a single fluid motion, the torch beam spearing toward the noise. His finger hovered outside the trigger guard, his body coiled.

"Easy!" Ace's voice, ragged with exertion, preceded him. He burst into the small clearing a second later, hands coming up instinctively. His chest heaved, sucking in great gulps of the damp air. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead, and a fresh, angry scrape ran the length of his left forearm, glistening in the torchlight.

Ace's eyes, wide and scanning, immediately locked onto the form on the ground. He didn't lower his hands. "Is that the kid? He alive?"

Cedric lowered the gun with a shaky exhale, the tension in his shoulders easing a fraction. "Yeah. Pulse is strong. He's just out."

Ace finally let his hands drop and stepped closer, his own breathing beginning to steady. He looked from Liam's expensive, dirtied clothes to his pale, slack face. "You know him?"

"Liam Carter," Cedric confirmed, his voice flat. "From my history class. Dad's some big-shot developer. Throws his money around. Kid's a follower, not a leader. Probably thought he'd get social media clout by being the one who didn't run."

Ace's lips thinned. He crouched, not touching the boy, just assessing. "Rich kid," he observed, a note of grim irony in his tone. "Of course. Probably never been told 'no' in his life." He reached out and lightly tapped Liam's cheek. No response. "He out cold or just playing possum?"

"Out cold," Cedric said. "Was like this when I found him. No visible head wound, but he's down hard."

Ace rocked back on his heels, rubbing a hand over his face. The scrape on his arm looked raw. "Great. Just fucking great." He looked up at Cedric, his expression stripped of its earlier focus, replaced by a weary frustration. "What did you see? When you found him?"

"Nothing. Just him. Leaning against the tree like he'd been placed there. The woods went dead quiet right after."

Ace nodded slowly, his gaze drifting past Cedric, into the ink-black spaces between the trees. "It's clever. Or instinctive. Doesn't matter. It lured one away from the herd. Isolated him."

Before Cedric could respond, the sound came again.

It was low. Closer than before. A deep, grating vibration that seemed to come from the earth itself, followed by a wet, clicking exhalation. It wasn't a growl of challenge. It was a sound of proximity. A reminder.

Both of them froze, their heads turning in unison toward the source—somewhere to their right, deeper in the woods, where the shadows were thickest.

Ace didn't move a muscle, his voice dropping to the barest whisper. "That wasn't you, right?"

Cedric gave a single, slow shake of his head, his hand tightening on his pistol. The torch beam, still in his other hand, trembled just enough to make the shadows dance.

Ace rose to his feet with a controlled, silent motion. He rolled his shoulders, a deliberate act of loosening muscles that had gone tight with exhaustion and renewed tension. His eyes, reflecting the torchlight, were hard and clear.

"Alright," he said, the word final. It wasn't a suggestion. It was the new reality.

Cedric swallowed, the dryness in his throat painful. "Yeah?" he prompted, needing to hear it.

Ace glanced once more at the dark woods, then down at the unconscious boy who was now the center of their universe. "Yeah. Plans changed."

He met Cedric's eyes, and in that look, Cedric saw their night shift irrevocably. The hunt for a monster, the scouting mission, the simple act of identification—it was over.

"Now," Ace said, his voice quiet and utterly certain, "we're protecting a liability."

The forest shifted again in response. This time, the sound was different. It wasn't a branch snapping in the distance. It was the soft, heavy displacement of leaf litter, as if a great weight had settled, choosing its ground.

And this time, it didn't sound like it was leaving.

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