The disappearances aren't random. They're offerings." My voice sharpens with understanding. "You've been feeding it silence."
The creature's head snaps toward me with sudden focus, as if the word 'silence' carries weight it recognizes. As suddenly as it appeared, its movements lose that stuttering quality. It flows forward with purpose that makes my skin crawl.
"It knows," I whisper into the phone. "It knows I've been digging."
"Get inside. Now."
But the creature is already moving, closing distance with the kind of speed that suggests it's done playing with boundaries. I abandon the phone, abandon the careful plan, abandon everything except the simple truth that I'm about to facesomething that exists because good people chose control over honesty.
The irony isn't lost on me. After a lifetime of making myself smaller to stay safe, I'm about to be hunted by something created from the same impulse.
The radio cracklesin Caleb's hand as we sit in his patrol car. He managed to arrive only moments into our phone call, and he moved us what currently feels a safe distance away in his vehicle.
Note to self: find out if werewolves enjoy some sort of Superman-like mythic speed.
His voice cuts through static, coordinating positions with pack members I still can't quite believe exist.
"Rowan, take the north ridge. Mara, circle wide from the east."
"I should go back to town." The words taste false even as I speak them.
Caleb's eyes find mine in the dim pre-dawn light. "You should. This isn't…"
"Stop." I adjust my grip on the heavy-duty flashlight he pressed into my hands. "You need someone who understands the pattern. The timing. I've mapped every incident for the past forty years."
"Ellie…"
"It hunts in a spiral, always moving clockwise from the deepest part of the forest. The attacks happen when people panic and scatter." I point toward the treeline where shadows move wrong. "It feeds on chaos. You know this."
His jaw tightens. "Knowledge doesn't make you bulletproof."
"No, but it makes me useful." The fear sits cold in my stomach, sharp and immediate. My hands want to shake. I don't let them. "Every person who ran blindly ended up dead."
A howl echoes through the trees—too long, too low to be entirely wolf.
"That's our cue," Caleb says, rising to his feet. "Stay behind me. When I signal…"
"When you signal, I move to the clearing and position myself at the old logging road intersection." I stand, brushing dirt from my knees. "We've been over this."
"The plan was made before…"
"Before what? Before you decided I'm too fragile to follow through?" The old instinct to shrink, to apologize, flickers and dies. "I'm not changing my mind."
Another howl, closer now. Caleb's radio buzzes with terse updates. The thing is moving faster than expected, cutting through the spiral pattern.
"It's adapting," I whisper, scanning the map spread between us. "Look. It's not following the old route."
Caleb studies the markings, his expression shifting. "You're right. It's heading straight for…"
"The campground." My pulse spikes, but my voice stays level. "There are families there. Kids."
"Rowan," Caleb speaks into the radio, "redirect to the campground. Priority one."
Static answers him. Then silence.
I'm already moving toward the path when Caleb catches my arm. "If we do this, you follow my lead exactly."
"If we do this, we work together." I meet his gaze. "I won't be deadweight, and I won't be a victim. But I also won't pretend I know how to fight that thing."