I already had ninety-nine reasons to regret going on a solo camping trip. When my rechargeable lamp refused to turn on, that became number one hundred and my breaking point.
"Fuck, come on," I muttered, smacking it against my palm and shaking it like that might magically bring it back to life. I hit the power button over and over, harder each time, until my thumb hurt. Nothing. No flicker. No weak glow. Just dead.
When it finally sank in that it wasn't coming back on, I threw it onto the ground. It bounced once in the dirt and lay there useless.
I stood still for a moment, forcing myself to think. It was already too late to leave the campground. The road out of here was dark and narrow, and driving it alone at night felt like an accident waiting to happen. There weren't any other campers around either. I hadn't seen a single person since I'd arrived that afternoon.
I sighed and looked toward the treeline.
The woods were my only option. If I wanted light, I needed firewood.
The entrance to those woods had haunted my dreams for a year. Ever since my father died.
I didn't know why. There was nothing special about them during the day. Just trees. Just shadows. Just silence. But in my dreams, that entrance swallowed me whole.
Still, standing there in the dark with a useless lamp, I didn't have much choice. I stepped forward.
The moment I crossed into the trees, a strange sensation washed over me. Not fear exactly. More like… awareness. Like something had noticed me.
I ignored it. I told myself I was projecting. Grief does weird things to people. So does camping alone for the first time.
It didn't take long to gather enough firewood. I stuck close to what I thought was the direction of camp, snapping small branches and stacking them in my arms. I kept glancing over my shoulder, half expecting to see something watching me.
After a few minutes, I turned to head back.
That was when I noticed it.
A crooked tree with a split trunk shaped almost like a slingshot.
I'd passed it already.
I frowned and kept walking.
Then I saw it again.
The same tree.
The fourth time I walked past that weirdly shaped trunk, my stomach dropped.
I was lost.
Panic set in fast and hard. My breathing picked up. I spun in a slow circle, trying to figure out which direction I'd come from. Every path looked the same. Every shadow looked deeper than it should.
I shifted the firewood in one arm and pulled out my phone with the other.
No service.
Of course.
I tried calling the park ranger anyway, staring at the screen like I could will a signal to appear. Nothing. Not even one bar.
I was just starting to feel properly disoriented when I heard it.
A loud crack.
Not a small branch snapping underfoot. Something bigger. Heavier.
I froze.
My first instinct was to go toward the sound. Maybe it was a person. Maybe I wasn't alone after all.
Then my brain caught up with my body.
I quickly crouched and slipped behind a cluster of bushes, lowering the firewood to the ground as quietly as I could. My heart pounded in my ears as I peered through the leaves.
A group of teenagers came into view, laughing, shouting, shoving each other like they were at a party instead of in the middle of the woods at night.
"I've waited for a long time for this!" one of the guys yelled.
"We know, Ryker. You've only said it like a thousand times," one of the girls shot back.
"Make that a thousand and one," another guy added with a chuckle.
Ryker rolled his eyes. Even from where I was hiding, I could see the smug look on his face.
"I wonder what color my wolf is going to be," he said, almost to himself.
His wolf?
I blinked.
Great. I thought. The drug problem in this state is worse than I realized.
"Probably a dark shade of brown, since you're so full of shit," someone else said.
"You're an idiot," Ryker grumbled.
"Enough. It's time," the quiet one said.
He had been hanging at the back of the group the whole time. Watching. Saying nothing until now.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The joking stopped. The shoving stopped.
Like it was rehearsed, they all began stripping out of their clothes.
I stared in disbelief.
Had I stumbled onto some kind of cult?
I should have looked away. I didn't.
I couldn't.
Before I could even process what I was seeing, pained groans filled the air. They dropped to the ground almost at the same time.
Then the screaming started.
Their bodies twisted at angles that shouldn't be possible. I heard bones crack. Heard muscles tear. The sound was wet and wrong and too real. Their hands clawed at the dirt as their frames shifted and stretched.
I pressed a hand over my mouth to stop myself from making a sound.
It felt like it lasted forever.
Then it stopped.
The groans faded.
The forest went quiet again.
I lowered my hand slowly.
The teenagers were gone.
In their place stood giant wolves.
Not normal wolves. Bigger. Broader. Their fur thick and uneven in the moonlight. Their eyes sharp and aware.
They lifted their heads and howled at the moon, the sound vibrating through my chest.
Terror finally broke through the shock.
I crawled backward as slowly as I could, trying not to make a sound. My hands shook. My knees scraped against roots and rocks.
Then a twig snapped beneath my fingers.
The crack was loud in the silence.
All of their heads snapped toward me.
My breath stopped.
My eyes locked with the quiet one. Even in wolf form, I knew it was him. There was something in his gaze that was too human. Too aware.
He saw me.
I didn't wait to see what they would do.
I turned and ran.
Branches whipped against my arms and face as I sprinted blindly through the trees, heart slamming against my ribs. Behind me, I heard them move.
Fast.
Too fast.
And they were coming straight for me.