Rissa’s POV

At night, the trees whispered secrets. The air grew thick with a hum that was not wind but something alive, something ancient that had been waiting. I sat close to the dying fire, watching the smoke rise in thin curls. Each one twisted into a shape before fading. Faces, maybe. Warnings.

Mark was awake too, though pretending to rest with his back to a tree. His knife was near, as always. Josh sat a little distance away, sharpening his blade like it was a habit he could not break. ...