PROLOGUE

Sarah Thompson’s boots left a distinct imprint on the carpet of leaves covering the trail in Whispering Pines Forest. She was enjoying the serenity, the scent of pine and earth mingling in the crisp air. She was also enjoying the challenge of pushing through the brush of a trail that hadn’t been traversed for years.

She was so engrossed in her enjoyment that she didn’t notice that the sun had dipped low, casting elongated shadows between the tree trunks and signaling the close of the day. When a sudden rustling sound from the undergrowth to her right pierced the silence, Sarah halted mid-step, unease invading her calm.

She scanned the thick brush, searching for the source of the disturbance. Leaves trembled where the noise had come from, but nothing revealed itself as the cause. She fought against the instinctive swell of alarm, reminding herself that wildlife was common in Trentville’s outskirts. It might be a curious raccoon or a skittish rabbit, but she thought it had sounded larger than that. A white-tailed deer perhaps? But of course, a deer wouldn’t be likely to follow so close to her path like this.

Was she being stalked by a mountain lion? Sarah told herself she was being silly, that there weren’t supposed to be mountain lions in Whispering Pines Forest. But she wasn’t so sure about the possibility of black bears.

With a deep breath aimed at calming her nerves, Sarah resumed walking, her strides purposeful now. She knew that this trail curved up ahead, leading back toward the main path that would take her out of the forest. She hurried along, aiming to rejoin the main trail before nightfall claimed the last of the light.

But the comforting solitude of Whispering Pines Forest had shifted now, giving way to a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. There was still movement—subtle, yet deliberate— somewhere close to her. Whatever it was, the rustling persisted as she moved ahead, and an unnerving sense of being watched crept over her.

There was no mistaking it now; the sounds were too calculated, too intentional to be merely the innocent rustlings of woodland creatures.

Panic surged through Sarah, hot and fierce, urging her limbs into action. She broke into a run, leaves and twigs snapping under her desperate flight. The rustling seemed to synchronize with her movements, no longer blending into the background symphony of nature. The sounds of pursuit amplified with every frantic heartbeat, a discordant symphony that chased her through the fading light.

It must be a mountain lion, she thought, no matter what people said … or worse, a human. Could it be some other person out here, stalking her?

Deep down, Sarah knew the answer to her question. This was not just nature at play. This was something far more sinister—a human lurking in the shadows of Whispering Pines. Some stranger with malicious intentions was following her through the woods. The unseen presence clung to her heels, an ominous force that refused to be outpaced.

Adrenaline coursed through Sarah’s veins, propelling her forward as the forest floor blurred beneath her sprinting feet. A protruding root, barely visible in the waning light, caught the toe of her hiking boot. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, a drumbeat of survival, as she pitched forward, arms flailing for balance. For a moment, the world tilted dangerously, but her muscles instinctively tensed, correcting her stance with swift agility.

Again, the echo of Sarah’s boots against the earth rebounded off the dense foliage. And again, the rustling sounds followed.

She moved on, every sense attuned to the path ahead and the uncertain safety it promised. Her pulse thrummed in her ears—loud, insistent, a metronome ticking off the precious seconds of her lead. She could almost feel the presence of her pursuer, a malignant form that crept closer with every panicked beat of her heart. The haunting silence of the predator’s approach set her nerves on edge, amplifying the feeling of vulnerability that gnawed at her resolve.

Sarah’s breathing turned erratic, her lungs laboring to draw breath as she pushed her body beyond its limits. Each inhalation was a ragged battle, fighting against the constriction of fear that gripped her chest. Her legs pumped furiously, muscles burning with the strain of sustained flight, yet she urged them onward, propelled by the primal instinct to survive.

With every step, the forest seemed to echo her distress, rustling in the underbrush warning of danger and pursuit. She forced herself not to look back, to focus solely on the blur of the trail ahead that now twisted into obscurity, shrouded by the encroaching nightfall. Sarah’s eyes, wide and vigilant, scanned the dimming environment.

To her, the trail no longer seemed to be an ally. With a sharp turn, Sarah darted into the underbrush, branches clawing at her clothes as she plunged into the forest’s thicket. The ground beneath her feet was uneven, blanketed with decaying leaves and hidden traps of roots and rocks. She ducked under low-hanging limbs, the need to escape driving her deeper into the untamed wilderness.

Her chest tightened, breaths coming in short, controlled bursts as she navigated through the dense foliage. Thorns snagged at her skin, leaving thin lines of red in their wake. She pushed on, hoping the natural barrier would confuse her pursuer, offering her a chance at eluding capture.

The farther Sarah ventured from the path, the more oppressive the forest became. Twisted trunks and overgrown vines formed a disorienting maze around her. Shafts of pale light struggled to penetrate the canopy, casting long, reaching shadows that moved with every rustle of leaves. Her heart thundered against her ribs, a relentless drumbeat that seemed to resonate with the ancient trees surrounding her.

She could no longer distinguish the sounds of her own frantic passage from those of the entity that pursued her. Every snap of a twig or brush of foliage sent jolts of fear down her spine. The boundary between hunter and hunted blurred as the forest consumed all sense of direction and time.

Whispering Pines lived up to its name, the wind hissing through branches as though sharing secrets meant only for the darkening woods. Sarah’s eyes flicked from one indistinct shape to another, searching for any hint of movement other than her own. But the forest offered no solace, only a suffocating closeness that seemed intent on swallowing her whole.

Sarah’s lungs burned as she darted through a narrow clearing, her feet tangling in the underbrush. For a fleeting moment, relief flickered within her. She dared to hope that her frantic zigzag through the thicket might have thrown off whoever—or whatever—was stalking her.

But that hope shattered as suddenly as it had formed. A vise-like grip clamped onto her shoulder, halting her escape. With an alarming jerk, Sarah was wrenched backward, her balance failing as she tumbled to the leaf-strewn forest floor. The impact jarred her, driving the air from her lungs and scattering her thoughts like leaves in a gale.

For a split second, Sarah’s mind grasped at the idea of fighting back, of confronting her unseen assailant with the ferocity of a cornered animal. Instinct screamed at her to scream, to call out into the encroaching night in the hopes that someone, anyone, would hear her plight.

But before any sound could escape her lips, a blunt force met the side of her head, snuffing out the spark of her defiance. Pain exploded in a white-hot flash, radiating through her skull and rendering her vision into swirling eddies of darkness. As consciousness slipped from her grasp, Sarah fell into the void, the forest swallowing her whole.