Ethan kept moving through the forest, his pace steady but never rushed. He didn't have a map, and he wasn't following a trail, but something inside him kept pointing him forward.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't even curiosity. It was more like his gut knew something was waiting, and the only way to understand it was to keep walking.
The trees here were taller than before, packed a little tighter together. Their branches reached out like quiet hands, heavy with moss and age.
The deeper he went, the less sunlight made it through the canopy. But he didn't need it. His eyes had already adjusted, and he trusted his instincts more than the light.
The air smelled different here—more damp, more earthy, like the ground had been untouched for a long time.
He heard no birds. No bugs. Not even the usual rustling of small animals. Everything felt still. But not dead. Just waiting.
Ethan stopped for a second, taking in the silence. He wasn't afraid, but he knew this wasn't normal.
