A song played softly through the darkness of the cold night. It sounded like a typical country tune.
~Country roads, take me home… to the place I belong~
The music came from Henry's car radio. Strangely, a song that warm still felt cold out here.
The road stretched endlessly ahead—empty. No streetlights. No passing cars. No signs of life. Just the narrow beam of Henry's headlights cutting through the dark like it was forcing its way into something that didn't want to be seen.
This place didn't just feel quiet.
It felt… abandoned.
Henry drove with one hand on the wheel, humming along casually with the song. Too casually.
Chase and I sat in the passenger seats. The car itself was comfortable. Too comfortable, like it was designed to make you forget how far you were from anything familiar.
I leaned my head against the window. The glass was cold. Outside, trees slid past in long, black silhouettes, their shapes stretching and bending in unnatural ways whenever the headlights touched them. For a moment, it felt like they weren't just passing by.
The exhaustion from the trip hit me all at once. My eyelids felt heavy. I barely registered what Chase was doing beside me. From the corner of my eye, I saw him holding a book, flipping through it slowly.
What the hell was he even reading at a time like this?
For a long stretch of the road, no one spoke.
Not because we agreed to stay quiet, but because it felt like speaking would… disturb something.
Henry didn't seem like the talkative type, especially around someone he barely knew. And Chase—well, even he seemed unusually calm. Focused.
Too focused.
"Nice car, Henry… Land Rover, right?" I said finally, just to break the silence. "That thing must've cost a fortune."
Henry chuckled lightly, eyes still locked on the road.
"Yeah… not bad," he said. "Lucky for me, my parents managed to carve out a better future."
A better future.
The way he said it felt… rehearsed. Like a line from a speech, not a conversation.
I frowned slightly. "A better future? What do you mean by that?"
Henry paused. Just for a second.
Then—
"Just… you know. A decent life. Something stable."
Something about his tone didn't sit right.
"So your parents didn't have that before?" I pressed.
He exhaled quietly through his nose.
"Raising livestock… watching goats eat all day… you think that's a decent life?" he said. "Some months, they didn't even make minimum wage."
I nodded slowly. "So your family used to be farmers too… That explains a lot. You and Chase grew up in the same kind of community."
I hesitated, then added,
"But how did your family get out? Chase said the place is pretty closed off. I figured leaving wouldn't be that easy… especially as a whole family."
Henry's grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Just slightly.
"W-we… just… it wasn't—"
"Henry, WATCH OUT!"
Chase's voice exploded through the car.
Everything happened at once.
Henry yanked the steering wheel hard to the left.
The tires screamed against the asphalt.
My body slammed sideways into Chase, our heads colliding painfully. The world lurched, twisted, then snapped back into place as the car stabilized.
For a few seconds, there was nothing but heavy breathing.
Mine. Chase's. Even Henry's.
"What the hell was that?!" I gasped, gripping the seat.
Henry didn't answer immediately. His eyes stayed fixed forward, wide, unblinking.
"…Damn wolf," he muttered finally, his voice low. Too low.
"You sure that was a wolf?" Chase said, still catching his breath. "Looked more like a coyote."
"Coyote, wolf. doesn't matter," Henry snapped. "Still an animal."
But I wasn't listening anymore.
Because for a split second, just before the car swerved.
I saw it.
Something standing on the side of the road.
Not running, Not startled, Standing.
A silhouette. Too still. Too upright.
"…That didn't look like an animal," I said quietly.
Neither of them responded.
The car kept moving.
The song on the radio continued playing, cheerful and warm, completely out of place now.
~Take me home… country roads…~
No one sang along anymore.
I slowly turned my head, looking back through the rear window.
The road behind us was empty.
Completely empty.
No movement.
No figure.
Nothing.
...
I don't know how much time had passed anymore, but I was pretty sure Chase had lied about the whole "five-hour walk" thing. We'd already driven past Lander, and the road still stretched endlessly ahead of us.
"Wait," I said, turning toward him. "Why didn't we get off at Lander?"
Chase didn't even look up. "Because we were meeting Henry. And Henry was nice enough to drive us the rest of the way." He glanced toward the driver's seat. "Right, Henry?"
Henry let out a short sigh, the kind people make when they already regret agreeing to something.
"Sure, buddy."
I think we'd been driving for another hour when Henry suddenly turned onto a narrow side road.
The tires crunched against loose gravel.
Almost immediately, the road became rough and uneven. The car bounced slightly with every dip in the ground, forcing the suspension to groan in protest. Darkness swallowed us whole the deeper we went. Tall pine trees crowded both sides of the road, their branches tangling overhead like they were trying to block out the sky itself.
The forest made the night feel heavier somehow.
"Damn…" I muttered, staring out the window. "You guys seriously traveled through this every time? That's some insane dedication."
"Yeah…" Henry said quietly, eyes fixed ahead. "Never thought I'd actually miss this shitty place," There was something strange about the way he said it. Not nostalgic. More like someone talking about an old scar.
"What about you Henry?" i asked.
"I don't know... This place always give me a chill."
As we drove farther, the pine trees slowly began to thin out. Moonlight finally broke through the gaps in the forest canopy, washing the road in pale silver. It felt relieving in a way that didn't make sense. Like we'd just escaped something without realizing it.
The woods back there had felt wrong.
Not dangerous exactly.
Just… oppressive.
A few minutes later, we emerged completely from the forest. Open land stretched ahead beneath the moonlight, and in the distance, I spotted the silhouette of an old house standing alone against the dark horizon.
I pointed toward it. "That your village?"
"Yuppp... Home sweet home."
Henry helped us unload our bags from the trunk. He moved quickly, like he didn't want to stay longer than necessary.
"I'm heading back before it gets too late," he said, slamming the trunk shut.
"Already?" Chase asked.
Henry forced a smile. "Yeah. I'd rather not drive these roads any later than this."
Fair enough.
He climbed back into the driver's seat and rolled the window down.
"Take care, y'all," he said, flashing a lazy peace sign before driving off into the darkness, than he bounce. Just like that, we really got dusted.
Chase and I turned toward the village.
The place was almost completely dark. No streetlights. No porch lamps. Nothing.
The moon was the only thing giving shape to the buildings beyond the gate, and even then, the light felt weak—barely enough to separate rooftops from shadows.
"What now Chase? Are we sleeping here?"
"Shut up bro! Just ring the bell on your left"
"My left?" I turned and noticed an old iron bell hanging beside the gate. Rust covered most of its surface, and strange patterns had been carved into the metal—symbols worn down by time so badly they barely looked human anymore. "This bell?"
"Yes!
Dong-Dong-Dong
I rang the bell, it's feel like i'm in a medieval movie. Ringing the bell to alert the dangers coming. Pretty stupid i know.
Not even a minute later, a door creaked open from the nearest house.
A warm orange light spilled into the darkness.
Then another door opened.
Then another.
One by one, lights began appearing throughout the village.
Not electric lights.
Torches.
Actual torches.
The flames flickered violently in the night wind, casting long shadows across the dirt paths between the houses. Figures slowly emerged beside them—people holding the torches without speaking, their faces
"Chase... you sure that's not a angry mob?"
"What the fuck Franz. they're not a angry mob, it's dark outside. Of course they're carrying a torch."
Chase stepped forward first, raising one hand casually.
"Hey! C'mon, don't tell me you guys already forgot me," he called out. "It's Chase. Errick's son."
The villagers didn't respond.
Not a single word.
The torchlight flickered across their faces, but none of them moved closer. They just stood there behind the gate, silent and unreadable.
Chase forced out an awkward laugh.
"Wow. Okay. That's kinda rude," he said. "I finally come back to my lovely hometown and this is the welcome I get?"
For a few more seconds, nothing happened.
Then, from somewhere among the crowd, a rough voice finally broke the silence.
"Yeah… that's Chase alright" the man muttered. "I'd recognize that smart mouth anywhere."
A few villagers chuckled softly under their breath.
The same voice spoke again, louder this time.
"Go get Errick. And bring the key from the mayor's office."
At that, Chase visibly relaxed.
"Jesus, thank God," he muttered under his breath. "Thanks, Uncle Frank."
One of the villagers began walking toward the gate, torch in hand. As he stepped closer, the firelight finally revealed his face more clearly.
He looked old, though not fragile. Deep wrinkles lined his weathered skin, and a thin gray beard clung to his jaw. His heavy coat smelled faintly of smoke and damp earth, like someone who spent more time outdoors than inside a house.
His eyes lingered on me for a little too long.
"So," he said slowly, "you brought a friend."
"Oh, right." Chase stepped aside slightly. "Uncle Frank, this is Franz. Franz, this is Uncle Frank. Best farmer in the village."
Frank snorted.
"Quit flattering me, boy. Sounds weird coming from you." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Makes it hard to tell if you're complimenting me or insulting me."
Frank shifted his attention back to me.
"So, Franz…" he said. "You French?"
"Half," I answered automatically.
Why did everyone keep asking me that? Did I seriously look that French?
From somewhere deeper in the crowd, a voice suddenly called out,
"Frank! I brought Errick!"
The villagers slowly parted, and a tall figure emerged from the sea of torchlight.
The man was massive.
Not bulky—not in the bodybuilder sense—but naturally huge, the kind of size that made doorways look smaller around him. He had broad shoulders, long arms, and the posture of someone who'd spent most of his life doing physical labor without ever needing a gym. Even from a distance, he carried this heavy presence that made everyone else unconsciously give him space.
As he walked closer, the wooden gate creaked open behind him.
"Father!" Chase called out immediately.
I leaned slightly toward Chase and whispered,
"Wow… your dad's built like a damn tank."
Chase snorted quietly.
The man stopped in front of us.
Up close, he looked even more intimidating. His face was rough and weathered, sharp lines carved into his skin by years of cold weather and hard work. His eyes immediately locked onto me.
And didn't move.
For some reason, my throat tightened.
It wasn't aggression exactly.
It felt more like being inspected.
"N-nice to meet you," I stammered awkwardly. "Y-you must be Chase's father."
He stared at me for another second.
Then finally spoke.
"Go get some sleep," he said flatly. "You two already pissed me off enough making me wake up this late."
…Wow.
That had to be the coldest greeting I'd ever received in my life.
Chase immediately groaned. "Come on, Dad. Don't be like that." He gestured toward me. "He's my friend. He's a guest."
Errick grunted in response, though whether it meant agreement or annoyance, I genuinely couldn't tell.
Chase threw an arm around my shoulder and lightly pulled me forward.
"Don't take it personally," he whispered. "That's basically his version of saying hello."
"That's concerning," I muttered back.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Chase's mouth before he turned toward the village behind the gate.
The torchlight flickered across the dirt roads and old wooden houses beyond us. Smoke curled from chimneys into the cold night air, and somewhere deeper in the dark, I thought I heard the distant sound of sheep bleating.
Or maybe the wind.
Chase squeezed my shoulder once.
"Anyway…" he said quietly.
"Welcome to my hometown."
He looked ahead toward the sleeping village.
"Welcome to Marlow Creek."