Chapter 2

Night falls too fast. Now, I'm not the only one shooting hesitant glances toward the tree line. Unnatural darkness seeps from the forest like a warning.

Dare to come inside.

My heart races against my will. I'm being silly, aren't I? We're not going into the woods. I know what's in there—magical creatures? Yes. Some that wouldn't mind human flesh for dinner? Sure. But we're not going in there.

The rain subsides, and the group releases a collective breath. See? It's not so bad. It's just a silly forest.

So I used to think before the literal Krampus appeared.

"Crazy how dark forests get, right?" I say to no one in particular, but the older lady next to me nods. "But it's still just a forest. Just trees and squirrels."

"And bears," a man adds.

I want to reassure them that there are no bears here, but that would be a lie. There might be bears. It's just that they're the least of my worries.

The store attendant, a man around my age, not older than twenty-five, approaches us, dragging his feet and loudly chewing gum. He leans against the door jamb a couple of feet from me.

"That's no regular forest," he says, his eyes on me. He lets the suspense drag on for another beat as all eyes turn to him. "It's haunted."

Laughter ripples through the group, but it's nervous and brittle.

"It's true," he insists. "You know what that mountain is called?" He points at the silhouette behind the trees. "Devil's Mountain. There's a reason it's called that way."

"Let me guess," a large man with a booming voice says, "the devil lives there."

The man laughs at himself. Others laugh with him. The attendant opens an all-knowing smirk. He opens his mouth to reply.

The sound starts as a distant whimper, a moan. For a moment, I'm sure it's the wind. Then it breaks like a bubble popping.

A distant wail shatters the cold air; a baby's cry pierces the silence of the evening. The attendant's smirk disappears.

No one moves. The group holds a collective breath.

"Did anyone else hear that?" I ask, my words slicing through the stillness. "There's a child out there. Did anyone have a child?"

People look between themselves and shake their heads.

"I told you," says the attendant, his voice casual but his eyes wide. "It's haunted."

Someone whispers a prayer under their breath. Another pulls up their phone.

There's one thing I know that these people don't. There are no ghosts in this forest. Only magical creatures. And I've never heard of a wendigo that pretends to be a child.

I shake my head. "No, it's not that." I lick my lips, my mouth going dry. My fingers tighten on my backpack strap. "There's a child out there. We have to do something."