Page 88 of Into the Dark, We Go
"So..." June said, looking at us each in turn, "who’s donating blood?"
If anything, I knew for sure it wasn’t going to be me. I was terrified of needles and anything sharp. No one else rushed to volunteer either.
"Let there be blood," Nick muttered resignedly, retrieving a pocket knife from his backpack. After a quick disinfecting ritual with an alcohol wipe, he rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, revealing the pale skin beneath. He positioned the blade over his forearm, where a sliver of skin remained bare from ink, hesitated, then dragged the keen edge across. Blood welled instantly, shiny and thick. It dripped down his arm, pooling in his palm before spilling over his fingers and into the earth. He trembled slightly as he reached up. The symbol, carved into thetree’s bark, was high—a stretch for anyone. Nick pressed his blood-slicked palm against the carving, the dark streaks of blood coating the jagged lines of the sigil.
I looked away, nausea rising, but when I turned back, it was done. Nick smeared the last of his blood over the deformed lines as if to seal them in. The mark was vivid and wet, the sigil pulsing with the blood that stained it.
"He’s nuts," June gasped, her eyes big and round, but clearly enthralled.
"Hope your tetanus shot is up to date," I murmured.
After Nick tended to his own wound, meticulously cleaning and bandaging it himself using the supplies from Mitchell’s first-aid kit, we proceeded further.
We walked for at least half an hour before reaching the bridge Tilly had mentioned, a rickety and worn structure. We crossed it one by one, the creaking and tilting unsettling, but somehow, against all odds, it held.
After a while, June announced, "I gotta pee," and disappeared behind the trees.
"Nell will go with you!" her brother exclaimed, shooting me a look. I’d started to follow, but June spun around.
"No way!" she shouted, taking off faster.
"Don’t go too far!" Mitchell warned.
"I’ll go wherever I’m comfortable!" she yelled from afar.
We stood waiting, all of us tired.
"This is insane," Mitchell said. "She just sent us off into the woods without any specific details. No coordinates, nothing. ‘Take five steps from the tallest tree’—what a fucking jo?—"
"AAAH!"
June’s scream, high-pitched and prolonged, sliced through the air and then vanished. It wasn’t the kind that slips out after tripping over a hidden stone—it was the kind that calls for help.
Mitchell’s eyes went wide, and he took off toward the sound. Nick and I followed, but instead of the chaos we’d expected, June stood calmly, her finger jabbed at a tree.
"What the heck is this?" she asked.
The same symbol we’d seen before was carved into the trunk, relatively high up, and hard to see unless you stood directly beneath it.
"What do you think it means?" June’s voice was trembling.
"Means we’re close," her brother said, then turned to her with a stern warning. "No more running off. And no unnecessary screaming."
We walked a bit further, carefully checking all the trees, and it wasn’t too long before we saw another symbol.
Nick suddenly turned left.
"Where are you going?" Mitchell was perplexed.
"I don’t think they’re showing us the way. I think they’re shielding it."
We all followed him, and he was right. Soon, the trees gave way to a clearing.
"Is this...it?" June asked.
There was a large structure resembling a shed on one side of the clearing, and a massive stone across from it.
"I guess," Mitchell said.
