Page 78 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

My finger presses the shutter without thinking.

Click.

The shape moves again. It’s definitely not an animal.

My breath catches.

“Hey?” I call, the word leaving me before I’ve decided whether I want it to.

It sounds wrong in the peace, too loud and too thin at the same time.

No answer.

Of course there’s no answer.

Because when I lower the camera and look properly, there’s nothing there anymore.

Just trees, shadows, the same stretch of forest that looked completely normal ten seconds ago.

I stand there, trying to convince myself I imagined it. That it was a trick of the light. A branch moving. Something small that looked bigger through the lens.

Except my body doesn’t buy it.

My pulse has picked up, that slow thud turning faster, like it’s trying to tell me something my brain hasn’t caught up to yet.

“Okay,” I say. “We’re… done here.”

I don’t run.

Running would feel like panic, and I’m not panicking. I’m just making a decision. A very reasonable decision to leave.

I turn back toward the trail, retracing my steps with more awareness than I had on the way in. Every sound feels louder now, every shift of wind catching my attention in a way it didn’t before.

I keep my pace steady, even when another faint rustle comes from somewhere behind me but this time I do everything I can to ignore it.

The path widens again after a minute that feels longer than it should, the light shifting just enough that I can see the edge of the clearing ahead.

My car sits exactly where I left it.

The sight of it loosens the fear in my chest, even if it doesn’t fully settle the tension that’s built up under my skin.

I step out of the trees and onto the gravel, the sound of it under my boots grounding in a way the forest suddenly isn’t.

A couple stands near one of the trucks, talking quietly. Someone farther down is loading something into the back of an SUV.

People, normal, everything is fine.

I head straight for my car, keys already in my hand, my focus narrowing down to something simple and familiar.

Open the door. Get inside. Leave.

That’s it.

That’s all I need to do.

I’m close enough to see the windshield when a new shape catches my eye.

A piece of paper, tucked under the wiper.