When the Hunt Begins

Previously

…We reached the bottom, breathless and bruised. The stream was shallow, its water icy cold against our skin. We plunged in, wading downstream, the current pulling us along. The sounds of the forest seemed to recede slightly, but the feeling of being watched, of being hunted, remained. The red glow of those eyes was seared into my mind, a terrifying promise of what still lurked in the darkness. We had escaped the immediate chase, but the hunt was far from over. The night was long, and the woods were vast. And whatever was out there, it was still hungry.