Narrator

Get your stuff, she said quietly.

Now, we packed like our hands were on fire.

No careful folding, no neat straps, just shove, cinch, lift.

The whole time I kept glancing at the trees across the creek, expecting that huge shape to reappear.

It didn't, but I felt watched.

Not like a spooky feeling, like a physical pressure, like eyes on the back of my neck.

When our packs were on, Glenn stepped aside, gesturing up trail.

"'Go,' he said.

Luke started to speak.

Tessa grabbed his sleeve and pulled him forward.

We walked away from that creek, away from the place where we'd seen something we couldn't explain, and met men who acted like they owned it."

We walked until the light started to fade and our legs burned.

Behind us, once, faintly, far off, a whoop echoed.

And from somewhere closer on our side of the ridge, a whistle answered.

Tessa didn't slow.

Don't you turn around, she said.

I didn't.

Day four, the hollow that isn't on the map.

That night we camped in a miserable spot because we didn't have a choice.

Rocky ground, little cover, no water nearby.