Ethan's Hysteria

Ethan’s breath hitched, a ragged sound that tore through the otherwise still night air. He’d been trying to convince himself that the rustling was just a squirrel, that the snapping twig was a deer, that the prickling sensation on his neck was just the cold seeping through his thin jacket. But the woods were no longer just woods. They were a vast, breathing entity, its shadowed lungs exhaling a chilling unease that seeped into his very bones.

He huddled closer to Leo, the warmth of his friend’s presence a meager shield against the encroaching dread. Leo, usually so steady, seemed to vibrate with a nervous energy of his own, his eyes darting into the impenetrable darkness that pressed in on their small, fire-lit clearing. Sam was gone. Noah was gone. And Hubert… Hubert, who only ever uttered his name, was a silent, unmoving statue beside the dying embers of the fire.

“Did you hear that?” Ethan whispered, his voice trembling. It wasn’t a whisper meant for comfort, but a plea for confirmation, a desperate grasp at shared reality.