Mason

Then again, farther behind us, like someone circling.

At some point, a twig snapped close enough that it sounded like it was right beside my tent.

I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw hurt.

I wanted to shout.

I wanted to throw open the zipper and blind whoever was out there with light.

I wanted to do something that would make me feel like I had control.

I did none of it.

I lay there and listened and waited and hated myself for being quiet.

In the morning, we found the first of the markers.

Someone had stacked small stones in a neat column right in the middle of the trail where it passed near our hidden camp.

A cairn.

That wouldn't be weird on its own.

People build cairns all the time, sometimes for navigation, sometimes just because they're bored.

But this cairn had something on top.

A small strip of cloth tied in a knot.

It was a piece of nylon, frayed at the ends.

It was the same color as the strap on Mason's pack.

Mason stared at it for a long time.

Then he reached out, grabbed it, and pulled it free.

The cloth came away easily like it had been placed there for him to find.