Page 3 of Primal Snow

That’s when I notice it.

The silence.

Not the peaceful kind, like a yoga retreat or whatever. This silence is wrong. Dense. Too quiet. And that’s what freaks me out the most. Like, it’s so quiet, it feels as though the forest is holding its breath and the snow is listening.

A shiver runs down my spine, and it’s not from the cold. It’s fucking creepy here.

“Hello?” My voice wavers as I peer into the trees.

Nothing.

I try to laugh it off. “Real original, Emma. Spook yourself out alone in the woods. Classic move.”

But then I hear it.

A crunch.

Not the light, fluffy kind that snow makes when it falls. This is deliberate. Heavy. Like someone—orsomething—is moving.

My heart pounds. “Chase? Is that you?” I call, my voice sounding much smaller than I’d like.

No answer.

I lift up my goggles and squint into the trees, but all I see is white. White snow, white air, white nothingness. It’s suffocating, like the world has been erased.

The feeling hits me next. Like eyes on the back of my neck. A presence—massive, predatory—just beyond my line of sight. My chest tightens, and every instinct I have is screamingRUN.

“Okay, very funny,” I say, my voice cracking. “Whoever’s out there, you win. I’m officially freaked out.”

The forestdoesn’t respond.

Another crunch. Closer this time.

I press myself harder against the tree, my breathing shallow. I strain my ears, desperate for more. Was that… a growl? No, no, it was just the wind. Just the wind.

Except the wind doesn’t sound wet. Or low. Or hungry.

“Seriously, stop!” I shout, my voice echoing through the trees.

A shadow flickers at the edge of my vision, huge and too fast. I whip my head toward it, and my eyes dart back and forth, scanning the forest, but there’s nothing there

The crunching stops.

The silence stretches, heavy as a stone, pressing down on me.

“Chase?” My voice is barely a whisper now.

More nothing.

And then the crunching starts again, but not from where it stopped. It’s behind me. Right behind me.

I spin around, the tree bark, digging into my back even through my thick layers, and something—an enormous shape—seems to loom in the periphery of my vision.

No, it’s just the snow… I don’t know, everything is white.

A low, guttural sound cuts through the silence. Not human. Not animal, either.

My breath comes in short, panicked gasps, my heartbeat pounds in my ears, my knees tremble. I’m frozen in sheer terror, like something primal has rooted me in place.

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