The night was eerily quiet. The cawing of crows and the cries of other nocturnal birds echoed clearly outside the wooden house.
The burly men were already dead drunk, sprawled across the sofa and the floor.
Only one of them was still barely awake—the burly bald man who had won the betting game earlier.
"Why hasn't that guy come back yet?" he muttered, rubbing his throbbing head.
The person he was referring to was the burly blond man. More than an hour had passed since he'd left, yet he still hadn't returned.
A sense of unease crept over him.
"Could he have been attacked by a wild animal?"
He wanted to dismiss the thought, but it was the only explanation he could come up with.
With unease still gnawing at him, he slowly got to his feet and walked toward the door.
The moment he opened the door, a cold breeze brushed against his face, sending a chill down his spine.
He stepped outside and looked around, but his friend was nowhere to be seen.
