Mason

They did nothing.

Then slowly, they stepped backward into the trees until they disappeared.

Mason's voice came out in a harsh whisper.

He wants us on this side.

The words felt disgusting because they made sense.

We didn't camp that night.

We kept moving even as the light died.

We walked by headlamp through rain.

We slipped on roots.

We fell once each, catching ourselves on our hands and cursing under our breath.

At some point, we stopped because we had no choice.

We were exhausted.

We were soaked.

We were making mistakes.

We found a cluster of trees close together and wedged our tents between them, trying to keep the wind off.

We didn't hang the food far away because we were too tired to go deep into the dark.

We tied it close, high enough to keep it from animals, and we crawled into our tents like we were hiding in thin shells.

That night, I heard the zipper on my tent move.

Not fully, just a small sound, like the metal slider being touched.

I snapped awake and grabbed the inside of the zipper with my hand, clamping it.