Jason

Matt sat bolt upright.

I could see his eyes reflect a faint glimmer of starlight.

Aaron was in her tent.

I could hear her breathing, quick and shallow."

Don't, she whispered hoarsely, barely audible.

That's not me.

The voice outside laughed.

It was almost perfect, Aaron's cadence, her little upward lilt at the end of sentences.

But there was a wetness to the laugh, a burbling undertone like someone trying to gargle while they giggled.

You're no fun, it said in a low, stretched out way, the syllables pulling longer than a normal human voice should be able to.

Then the zipper sound came one last time, long and slow, like something was running a claw very carefully down the side of the tent, imitating the noise.

I'm not ashamed to say I cried a little, quietly, into my sleeping bag.

I don't think I was the only one.

Morning came like a judgment.

We stepped out of our tents looking like hell.

Dark circles under our eyes.

Sharp edges to our movements.

Erin's hands were shaking as she made coffee.

Dylan's usual cocky smile was gone.

We're turning around, Aaron said before anyone else could speak.