Maks, Zosia, and Igor camp in Fear Glade, where old stories say a hunter still haunts the trees. When strange green lights begin to circle their fire, the night turns far stranger than a prank.
It began on a Friday evening, just as the sky was turning the colour of bruised plums. Maks, Zosia, and Igor dragged their tent into Fear Glade and set it up beneath the black branches. People said the place belonged to old legends, that an old hunter still walked there after dark. Maks only snorted and shoved another log into the fire.
"Ghosts don't scare me," he said, grinning into the flames.
Igor did not look so sure. He kept glancing into the trees, where the trunks stood close together like they were listening. Zosia noticed and tried to keep things light, making silly jokes while she passed around biscuits and warm juice. For a while, the crackle of the fire was louder than the woods.
Then the darkness shifted.
A green light flashed between the trees. Igor froze with his mug halfway to his mouth. "Did you see that?"
"Probably a glow-worm," Zosia whispered, though her voice had gone thin.
Before anyone could answer, two more lights blinked on. Then three. They drifted deeper in the glade, slow and steady, as if something was carrying them around the clearing in a wide, silent circle. Maks stopped smiling. The three of them pressed closer together, staring as the lights moved closer, farther, then closer again.
A twig snapped somewhere behind the tent.
Maks rose so quickly he nearly knocked over the kettle. "Stay by the fire," he muttered, and took one careful step toward the trees. The lights vanished at once. Darkness rushed in, thicker than before, swallowing the clearing until even the fire seemed small and frightened.
Something brushed the bushes beside Igor.
Zosia grabbed his hand. "Who's there?" she called, but the night did not answer.
Then, from just beyond the tree line, a voice spoke in the dark. Quiet. Familiar. And right where no one should have been.