Page 67 of Lost to the Woods

The last traces of daylight bleed through the trees, making it more difficult for me to see.

“Wrong turn,” Ghost’s voice echoes through the trees.

And as I crash through a clearing, I nearly scream again, met with another figure ahead. At first, I think it’s a deer standing upright, but no… Its body moves like it’s forgotten how limbs are supposed to work. Bent in the wrong places. Joints too loose, or too many. Its eyes zero in on me, glowing, and it sniffs the air, then growls… like something otherworldly.

I choke on a sob and bolt.

Behind me, laughter ripples through the trees.

“You can’t hide, little bunny.”

His words crawl under my skin, hot and sticky like summer humidity. He’s everywhere. In the trees. In my head.

“You belong to the woods now.”

My breath is coming in short, ragged sobs. The world spins around me. I hear twigs snapping, leaves rustling. Something fast. Too fast. They’re circling, weaving through the trees just out of sight.

The laughter is behind me. Beside me. Ahead of me.

I cover my ears, but I don’t stop running. My chest aches. The taste of panic is metallic in my mouth. Every time I change direction, something is there, just out of reach.

They’re not chasing me in a straight line. They’re closing the loop. They’re toying with me. Herding me like an animal.

Something hisses to my right—low and guttural.

To my left, a voice I swear is Dev’s murmurs, almost tender, “Do you like being hunted?”

Another voice laughs behind me—perhaps Nate’s, but it’s too distorted for me to be certain. “Is that what gets you off?”

Then, a wild huff next to my ear steams the air. With the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a huge, furred figure with an oxlike head and large horns. And I’m not sure whether I hear the sound of the hooves thumping on the ground or my own heartbeat hammering in my chest. Maybe both.

I scream, even though I know they like it.

But I don’t stop running. Even though my body’s quitting on me. Even though every breath feels like it might be my last. The woods are endless. They stretch and stretch, hot and green and close, like they’re pressing in on me. Like they’re part of the hunt.

And they are.

The Appalachian Mountains are alive. I feel it now—like something deep and old is watching me. Hungry. Approving.

Suddenly, the ground gives way, and I skid down a slope through dirt and old leaves. My palms tear open as I scramble for leverage, then I hit the bottom hard, and feel my knee split open. Blood slicks my leg, my fishnet tights rip entirely, bunching around my ankles together with my ruined panties. I yank them off before I drag myself up again, wheezing, blinking sweat and tears out of my eyes, my mouth full of the taste of earth and blood.

Ghost is suddenly behind me. I don’t hear him approach. I just feel the heat of him, the weight of his presence. Then that low chuckle rumbles out of the trees.

And I run again. Limping. Screaming. My body isn’t mine anymore. It’s just meat moving through space, pushed by fear.

But even in the horror—even with death panting at my back—something else twists inside me.

Shame.

The heat between my legs won’t go away. The rush of it—being chased, hunted,wanted—makes me feel sick and alive and confused. I hate it. I hate that it’s there. I hate that they know.

I hate myself.

“Don’t you know I can smell you, Princess?” Ghost calls. “Your fear… the adrenaline rushing through your veins… the arousal pulling between your legs. You’re running like you want to be caught.” His voice slithers between the trees… between my thighs, low and hot. “Because you know exactly what happens when I catch you. And you crave it.”

My stomach twists. “No—” I sob, but my voice breaks.

He’s not alone. They’re all there, I can hear them moving together, breathing together. They laugh again, that awful chorus of voices I used to know.

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