Though we’re blessed with a cloudy afternoon, the heat still remains, and a thin layer of sweat coats my skin at all times. It doesn’t matter how many showers I take or how much water I guzzle. Short of keeping my head in the freezer, I can do nothing but slowly lose my sanity. Boob sweat is another constant, and as if that’s not bad enough, my tank top sticks to my spine.
The heat was bearable at first, but not anymore.
I toss the bag in the trash can and shut the lid on the buzzing flies. The reek in the air is so foul that I press the back of my hand over my nose as I step away. I suppose that’s what happens when food waste and old milk cartons bake in the sun for too long, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s gross.
I turn on my heel, about to head back inside, when I grow still.
“Camryn…”
Spinning around, I search the tall oak and fir trees for the source of the whisper. Overhead, the branches sway in the mild breeze.
Another string of hushed whispers raises the hairs on my neck, their ancient notes seducing me as they wrap around my heart, pulling me closer.
When I near the tree line, the buzz of flies inside the trash can fades into the distance, and I’m pulled forward by disembodied, hushed voices in the breeze—voices that know my name and seem to grab at my clothes and hair.
A sudden silence swallows me whole as I disappear into the trees. Not even the breaking twigs beneath my rubber sole disturb it.
The air is still, too. Not a trembling leaf rustles. Not a bird tweets.
I turn to look behind me and gulp down a breath. I’m no longer near the yard’s edge, and the looming estate is no longer visible through the branches. No, I’m deep in the woods, so far that I’ve lost track of where I am.
“Camryn!”
Panicked, I spin around and almost stumble over an exposed root. A squirrel darts up a tree branch beside me, and mushy leaves get crushed beneath my shoes as I take another step back. Something is wrong with these woods. Something has lured me here to feed on my fear, and not for the first time. I don’t know how I know, but I do.
It feeds on every thudding heartbeat and spike of anxiety while watching me from behind thick trunks and beneath the carpet of pines and decomposing leaves. It’s in the heavy air and all around, dancing over my exposed skin with the next vagrant breeze. Curious, it travels up my arms, searching, hunting, and testing me.
“Camryn.”
I fall back against the soft moss with a startled cry, my heart pounding. Overhead, a raven breaks through the canopy of greens. Its eerily haunting caw cuts through the thick, heavy silence before the last note fades into nothingness.
I turn over on my front, but before I can climb to my feet, a strong hand encircles my arm and pulls me up. Surprised, I lock eyes with the man from the woods, the same man I spotted in the café the other day.
“Are you okay?”
It seems I’ve lost my ability to talk, because I say nothing. Just gawk at him.
When the silence stretches on, he lets go of my shoulders and rubs his neck, but then he seems to remember his unbuttoned shirt, and I watch his long fingers deftly do up the buttons.
“I’m sorry if I startled you?”
“It’s okay,” I reply shakily.
His fingers pause, but I still don’t lift my gaze, unable to look away from his scarred knuckles and veiny hands. They’re a working man’s hands.
He finishes the last two buttons, hiding that firm chest from view, but not before I catch the silvery scars.
“These woods are dangerous,” he says, as though he’s tired or fed up. “If you get lost, you might never find your way back.”
“What do you know of the woods?” I ask.
He studies me with his forest-green eyes. “I know people have got terribly lost in these woods, ma’am.”
I blink.
“What made you venture this far out?” he asks, keeping a respectable distance. The low rumble of his voice reminds me of a summer storm.
“I didn’t,” I respond, then realize how stupid that sounds, considering that we’re miles into the woods, but I can’t tell him I have no recollection of walking this far.
