I wake up with a jolt, my breath short, my heart pounding so hard it hurts my chest.
For a second, I stay frozen, unable to understand where I am. My room. My bed. The familiar ceiling above me.
A question cuts through my thoughts, brutal and uncontrollable:
Am I dead… or was all of that just a dream?
I sit up instantly and grab my left ankle, almost in a panic. My fingers slide over my skin, searching for any trace. A bite. A mark. Anything.
Nothing.
My skin is intact. Not a bite . Not even a hint of redness.
I let out a slow breath, almost relieved.
A dream. It has to be. A nightmare too real, too violent… but still just a dream.
I fall back onto the mattress for a second, then get up. As I pass by the mirror, my eyes catch my reflection—and something feels off. I can't quite explain it. Just a vague impression. A strange sensation, as if something has changed.
But I look away immediately.
It doesn't matter. Not now.
Today is my first match.
My only real chance to be noticed at school. To prove that I deserve my place.
And one thing is certain:
no matter what happens, I'm still far ahead of Tyler.
At least, that's what I keep telling myself as I walk down the stairs.
Because that strange feeling hasn't gone away. My aunt Elena was in the kitchen, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. There was that faint trace of exhaustion in her eyes, the one she always carried home after her nights at the hospital.
"Let me guess," I said, pausing. "You're going to tell me you can't take me this morning."
She gave a small, apologetic smile.
"I'm really sorry."
Surprisingly, I didn't feel disappointed. Not really.
I shrugged.
"Don't be. It's your job. Working in the medical field doesn't leave you many choices."
She sighed softly.
"Yeah… it's not great."
I grabbed an apple from the counter and took a bite.
"So, what's the emergency this time?"
"I'm not really sure. We got called in at the last minute."
I nodded, already halfway elsewhere. She looked at me for a second, then set down her cup.
"Before you go… I'm sure you're going to crush your match."
I smiled at her, more nervous than I wanted to admit.
"I hope so too."
I grabbed my keys, opened the door, and stepped out.
Closing it behind me, her words lingered in my head.
Yeah… I really hope so. Because this weird feeling isn't going away now." I arrived at the field. The game was starting in a few hours. Rickie waved me over.
"Why did you ditch the party?" he asked.
"I don't have an answer for that," I replied.
"Doesn't matter," he shrugged.
Then he added,
"Tyler made an announcement."
"What announcement?" I asked, curious.
"If you'd stayed at the party, you'd know," he said.
I rolled my eyes.
"Rickie…"
"Okay, guess who's joining the team," he said with a grin.
I frowned, surprised, but I had a pretty good idea.
"I want a name."
He pointed in the direction of Jäher. A group of girls was gathered around him, all staring in admiration.
"What's his name again?"
"Jäher von Tod," I answered.
Rickie shook his head.
"That guy doesn't seem right."
"You're just jealous because Cleo is dating him and not you," I said with a smirk.
"No, it's not that," he replied seriously.
"Then what is it?"
"Just… he's sketchy. I bet he's some wanted criminal."
I rolled my eyes.
"You know that's just nonsense, right?"
"No, I swear. He's lying to all those girls… poor things."
I shook my head. More nonsense. But Jäher was staring at us from the stands, like he had heard everything.
Tyler called out,
"Mac, Kak, come over here!"
He gestured to the rest of the team, and music started playing. Our school bus arrived, followed by the rival team. Mr. Ramirez went to greet the students and the coaches.
Tyler spoke to us, serious:
"No matter what happens on the field, no provocation—direct or indirect. Be respectful and welcoming."
Suddenly, the rival team captain approached and spilled a soda on Tyler, pretending it was an accident.
"Hope you're as useless on the field as you just were. And don't forget your little motivational speech—you're going to lose, hahaha!"
Tyler stood there, stunned. Rickie whispered,
"So, Tyler, you're not gonna fight back?"
"Shut up," Tyler snapped.
The captain said something else, and Tyler smashed his handkerchief.
"One more word, and you'll regret it."
"That's more than a word," Rickie joked.
"Our captain said no provocation," someone reminded, and the team burst out laughing.
"I hate you, Kak!" Tyler yelled.
"My name's not Kak!"
"Jäher's taking your spot on the field," Tyler added.
"You can't do that!" Rickie shouted.
"Yes, I can," Tyler fired back.
I was done with their argument. Tyler went to change in the locker room, and the crowd slowly dispersed. I headed toward the locker rooms has my turn , my steps slightly heavy. The familiar smell of leather and deodorant lingered in the air. Once inside, I dropped my bag on the floor and sat down on a cold bench, my gaze lost in the distance. Around me, the silence was broken only by muffled voices and the distant clatter of lockers. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the chaos in my mind before what came next. The locker room smelled of cheap deodorant and tension. Lockers slammed shut, cleats scraped against the floor. No one was really talking, but everyone was thinking the same thing.
I was sitting on the bench, tying my laces, when the door suddenly swung open.
Jäher walked in.
The room fell almost completely silent. A few players looked up, others pretended not to notice. He walked calmly, as if the invisible hostility didn't affect him at all.
Tyler stepped away from his locker, already in uniform. Alright. Everyone listen."
He stared at Jäher a second longer than necessary, then looked away.
"Last-minute change. Jäher is starting."
A murmur spread through the room.
Rickie jumped to his feet.
"That's ridiculous, Tyler! We practiced the formations all week!"
Tyler clenched his jaw.
"Sit down, Rickie. That's my decision."
Jäher set his bag down, calm.
"If this bothers anyone, I can—"
"No," Tyler cut him off. "You're playing."
Rickie laughed nervously.
"Of course… the guy shows up out of nowhere and he's a starter right away."
Jäher finally looked at him. His gaze was calm, almost cold.
"If you think you can do better, prove it on the field."
The locker room froze.
I stood up too.
"Hey. We're a team, okay? We'll settle this during the match."
Rickie looked away, frustrated.
"Yeah… sure."
Tyler exhaled, then continued:
"Listen carefully. The other team wants to provoke us. They want us to lose our cool. We're not giving them that satisfaction."
He paused.
"We play clean. We play together. And we win."
A whistle echoed in the distance. The crowd was starting to fill the stands.
Jäher stood up and grabbed his jersey. As he passed by me, he whispered,
"Thanks."
I nodded.
"Just do what you know how to do."
He gave a slight smile.
The locker room door opened again.
"Alright, it's time!"
We headed toward the exit. The noise of the crowd grew louder, more real. My heart was racing.
When we stepped onto the field, I realized one thing:
this match wasn't going to be like the others.
And Jäher… was clearly not an ordinary player. The locker room door swung open abruptly.
"Enough."
Mr. Ramirez stood there, arms crossed, whistle hanging around his neck. Just his voice was enough to put everyone back in line.
"The match starts in two minutes. Everyone in position. Now."
No one argued.
We grabbed our gear and stepped out. The tunnel seemed longer than usual. The moment we set foot on the field, the roar of the crowd hit us full force — loud, chaotic, electric.
The opposing team was already warming up. Their captain met Tyler's gaze and gave a taunting smile.
Mr. Ramirez gathered us into a tight circle.
"Listen carefully," he said quietly. "The first five minutes decide everything. Stay focused. Simple passes. No unnecessary moves."
His eyes landed on Jäher.
"Play your game. Nothing else."
Jäher nodded. Calm. Too calm.
The referee blew the whistle.
"Captains to the center."
Tyler jogged toward the center circle. I took my position on the left side, muscles tense, adrenaline burning in my veins. Rickie stood a few meters away, jaw clenched.
The coin toss ended. The opposing team kicked off. The referee raised his arm.
"Kickoff!"
The sticks hit the ground.
Whistle.
The ball dropped, and with a sharp clash, Tyler won the face-off. The ball shot backward. Jäher was the first to react.
He scooped up the ball with unnerving ease.
From his first steps, something changed.
He moved forward without rushing, stick perfectly held, head high. A defender charged at him. Jäher pivoted at the last second, dodging with a simple shoulder movement. The crowd let out a first murmur.
"Mark him!" shouted the opposing captain.
Too late.
Jäher accelerated. A laser pass flew to the right wing. Perfect reception. Immediate return. The play was moving fast—too fast.
The opponents started to get flustered.
A second defender tried to block him, stick high. Jäher absorbed the contact, stayed on his feet, and continued as if nothing had happened. This time, the stands reacted loudly.
"Oooh!"
I could feel the nervousness rising in the opposing team. Their positioning grew hesitant. Fouls were looming.
Jäher regained the ball again, faked a shot. Two players bit. He passed at the last moment.
"SHOOT!" Tyler yelled from the sideline.
The shot went off. The goalie dove and blocked the ball at the last instant. The ball bounced in front of the goal.
Without hesitation, Jäher surged forward and grabbed it.
This time, no feint.
He wound up.
SLAM.
The ball hit the net.
Silence. Barely half a second.
Then the explosion.
The stands erupted, everyone on their feet.
"JÄ-HER! JÄ-HER! JÄ-HER!"
I froze for a moment, breathless. Around me, my teammates raised their arms, disbelief on their faces.
Tyler clenched his fist, a smile finally breaking across his face.
"Yes… that's it."
On the field, the opponents looked at each other, shaken. Their captain gritted his teeth, fists tight.
Jäher, however, stayed calm. He simply raised his head toward the stands, then returned to position, as if it were only the beginning.
And in that precise moment, everyone understood.
This game had just turned.
And Jäher was at its center. The match was in full swing. Sticks clashed, the ball zipped from player to player, bodies collided with every contact. The stands roared, fevered by the frantic pace.
I picked up the ball near the midfield line. Focused, I looked for an opening. But before I could advance, the opposing captain appeared in front of me.
His stick slammed into me violently. I lost my balance, and the ball slipped away. A clear foul. Yet he didn't back off. He looked at me with a taunting smile, as if daring me.
My body tensed. Anger rose, hot and immediate. My hands gripped the stick so tightly my knuckles went white.
My eyes… began to glow a fierce, incandescent yellow, but behind my helmet, no one could notice. Not Tyler. Not Rickie. Not even the referee.
"Ignore him," Tyler murmured from the sideline.
I got up silently. The rage hadn't lessened; it boiled inside me. But I knew that if I showed the slightest reaction, the opposing captain would feed off my frustration.
The ball came back to me a few seconds later. I advanced, each movement precise, my footing steady, calculated. The captain tried to challenge me again, but this time, I didn't falter. He had provoked the storm… and I intended to unleash it on the field—against him.
Jäher met my gaze. No words were needed. A simple nod. He understood. Together, we were faster, more coordinated, more unpredictable.
The match had barely passed its first minutes. The clock was ticking down to zero. The score was tight. One single play could decide the match.
The stands were a chaos of screams and drumbeats. The fans were shouting our names, but Tyler, Rickie, and the rest of the team seemed suspended on our every move. Jäher and I were perfectly in sync. Every gesture of one foretold the action of the other.
"Riven!" Jäher shouted, the ball in his stick.
I sprinted to meet him. The opposing defense was tight, two players ready to stop me. Jäher faked a shot. The defenders took the bait.
But he didn't shoot.
In a split second, he slid the ball behind him, almost impossible to catch. I received it, legs burning with adrenaline. I pivoted, dodged a first tackle, then a second, and saw Jäher already repositioned in front of the goal, motionless, like a prediction. "Now!" I yelled.
I sent him the ball. He controlled it perfectly, a single fluid movement. The defender tried to stop him, but Jäher wound up his shot without flinching.
CLACK!
The ball hit the net.
Silence. Only a second. Then the stands erupted.
"JÄ-HER! JÄ-HER! RIVEN! RIVEN!"
The bleachers shook. Students jumped, screamed, waved their banners. Drums pounded, whistles blew, and in the middle of it all, Cleo screamed my name, her face radiant:
"RIVEN!"
Tyler ran toward us, beaming.
"That's exactly what I wanted to see! Perfect! You crushed it!"
Rickie and the others, mouths agape, gasping, couldn't hide their admiration. Even the opposing team was paralyzed. Their captain, furious, clenched his fists, unable to react. Every move of Jäher and me had been calculated, perfect, destabilizing.
I took a moment to breathe, legs trembling but mind clear. I met Jäher's gaze. No words, just a faint smile beneath his helmet.
"Together," he murmured.
The clock hit zero. The final whistle blew. Victory. Perfect coordination. A match etched into every memory.
And in this chaos of cheers and applause, we were at the center.
Two players, two minds, one team… and the feeling that nothing and no one could stop us. {That's what I thought.}. After the final minutes had passed, I stood frozen for a moment, my breath heavy, unable to believe what had just happened. The field, still marked with footprints and sweat, felt eerily silent despite the distant cheers of the fans. The team we had never managed to beat had finally fallen.
Tyler walked over to us, his face flushed from exertion, a wide smile lighting up his tired features. "Great game, Jäher. I knew you'd be a real asset to the team."
Rickie, hands gripping his knees and brow furrowed in anger, shot back, "You know the whole team played."
Tyler shrugged, his eyes sparkling with mischief despite the fatigue. "Sure, the whole team… but I didn't see you. Where were you?"
Rickle let out a low, muffled growl, teeth clenched. "Asshole…"
I felt my heart pound under the helmet, but before I could respond, he continued, his voice softer, almost hesitant: "Maybe… maybe I misjudged you, rookie."
The silence that followed was heavy but charged with an unusual tension. For the first time, I thought I could sense a spark of respect behind Rickie's anger. In the stands, some supporters still refused to leave. Voices were shouting our names. I lifted my eyes and spotted Cleo. She was looking at me, a smile on her lips, her hands still clasped together as if she had just finished applauding.
Our gazes met. Nothing needed to be said. Everything was already there.
Jäher finally sat down on the bench. I joined him.
"Had you ever experienced something like this before?" I asked.
"No," he replied. "But I knew it would happen one day."
I looked at him, intrigued.
"And now?"
He turned his head toward the nearly empty field.
"Now, things get serious."
The sun was beginning to set. The stadium was growing quiet. But deep inside, I could feel it: this match was not an ending. The next morning, the school was still buzzing about the match from the night before. But this time, it wasn't my name I heard the most.
"Did you see Jäher yesterday?"
"The guy was untouchable."
"He looked like a pro."
I stopped near the lockers. A crowd had formed a little farther down the hallway. Jäher was in the middle of it, leaning against the wall, bag over his shoulder. Students were talking to him all at once. Some were laughing, others asking questions, and a few were simply staring at him as if he wasn't entirely real.
He stayed calm. Polite. Detached.
Cleo was there too. Standing slightly back, but her eyes never left him.
"Seriously," a guy said, "where did you learn to play like that?"
"Here and elsewhere," Jäher replied simply.
The answer seemed to be enough. It said nothing—yet it said everything.
I felt a tense presence behind me.
Rickie.
He was watching the scene, arms crossed, jaw tight. His fingers tapped nervously against his forearm.
"It makes me sick," he muttered.
"What does?" I asked.
"Him. All this circus around him. Like he just fell from the sky."
I followed his gaze. Jäher laughed briefly at a comment. The group burst out laughing with him.
"He just played well," I said.
"No," Rickie cut in. "He took all the spotlight."
He paused, then added more quietly:
"And Tyler's already treating him like a star."
As if to prove his point, Tyler walked down the hallway.
"Jäher, the coach wants to see you after class," he said. "Nothing serious. Just… keep it up."
Admiring murmurs rippled through the group.
Rickie clenched his fists.
"Of course. Obviously."
Jäher nodded.
"Alright."
He met my eyes for a fraction of a second. No provocation. No pride. Just a cold awareness, as if he knew exactly what this attention was going to cause.
Rickie suddenly looked away.
"You'll see," he said. "Stuff like this never lasts."
I didn't reply.
When the bell rang, the group slowly dispersed. Jäher was left standing alone, as if the attention had never existed. Rickie walked off without a word.
Something heavy lingered in the air.
Jäher had just become the center of everything.
And Rickie… had just realized he was starting to lose his place. We left the school through the back, where the fence was slightly bent and rarely watched. The street was almost empty at that hour. A few cars passed by, slow, and the noise of classes faded behind us.
"We'll take the bus to the old district," Tyler said. "After that, we walk."
We got on the city bus. The seats were worn, the windows slightly scratched. No one paid attention to us. Just a group of high schoolers like any other.
Jäher sat by the window. He watched the buildings go by, silent. I stood next to him, holding onto the pole, still a little excited at the idea of skipping class.
"It's crazy how everyone's been staring at you since yesterday," I said.
"It'll pass," Jäher replied calmly.
The bus stopped near a small square. We got off. The air was warmer here, the smell of asphalt mixed with that of trees.
"Hey!"
I recognized the voice before I even turned around.
Cleo Vondergeist was there, sitting on the low wall of a closed café, surrounded by two girls from her group. Sunglasses on her head, an easy smile on her face.
"You skipping too?" she asked.
Tyler smiled.
"Sports recovery."
"Of course," she replied, rolling her eyes.
The girls laughed. Jäher stayed calm, polite, almost distant. Cleo was clearly watching him with curiosity.
"Where are you headed?" one of the girls asked.
"Toward the old field," I answered.
"Seriously? No one goes there anymore."
"Exactly," Tyler said.
Cleo stood up.
"Can we come along for a bit? Just to see."
Tyler shrugged.
"As long as you keep up."
We continued on foot. The neighborhood slowly changed. Fewer shops, more low houses, graffiti-covered walls. The old field appeared in the distance, behind a line of trees.
I walked beside Jäher.
"Hey… can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
I hesitated for a second.
"Are you dating Cleo?"
He looked at me, surprised, then gave a slight smile.
"No."
"Really?"
"Really."
I glanced back. Cleo was talking with her friends, but her eyes kept drifting back to him.
"She seems… interested."
"People stare when they don't understand," he replied simply.
The field finally came into view. Rusted goals, tall grass in places, lines almost completely faded. The silence there felt different. Heavier. Freer, too.
"Wow…" one of the girls murmured.
"Not very glamorous," Cleo said, "but… I like it."
Tyler dropped his bag on the ground.
"There. No one here. No teachers. No noise."
I took a deep breath.
For the first time in a long while, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.
And something told me that this trip, as ordinary as it seemed, had brought us much closer together than I ever imagined. The cool water slipped around our ankles, then up to our knees, splashing over moss-covered stones. Laughter erupted with every step, every splash.
Cleo hopped from rock to rock, laughing loudly. Tyler tried to keep up, but slipped halfway with every move, setting off even more bursts of laughter.
At first, Jäher stayed back, watching the current. But after a few minutes, he let himself go. He stepped into the water, made a small clumsy spin, and splashed Tyler.
"Hey!" Tyler shouted, surprised.
"Revenge!" Jäher called, almost smiling.
I ran after them, trying not to slip, but splashing everyone along the way. The air, filled with laughter and the sound of flowing water, made the place feel almost unreal. Everything else—school, games, homework—was forgotten. Only the present moment existed.
"One more race!" Cleo shouted, already at the other side of the river.
"You'll never win!" Jäher yelled, chasing after her.
And yet, he moved with surprising fluidity, dodging slippery rocks, anticipating her every move. Cleo screamed and laughed, but Jäher advanced as if every gesture were perfectly calculated.
I followed, gasping, unable to stop. Tyler giggled behind me, slipping on a stone and barely catching himself.
Time no longer existed. Sunlight danced on the water's surface, casting bright flashes that moved around us. Birds sang in the trees, the wind gently rustled the branches, and nothing seemed able to interrupt this moment.
Even Jäher, usually so calm and distant, was laughing now. Just a little. But enough for Cleo to notice and let out a triumphant scream.
We didn't notice the hours passing. No phones, no classes, no responsibilities. Just the river, the sun, and laughter echoing through the woods.
And in the middle of it all, I realized that moments like this… didn't come often. So we soaked it all in, fully, without holding back. We had wandered away from the old field to explore a little into the woods behind it. The path was narrow, lined with thick tree trunks and ferns. The air smelled of damp grass and wet wood, refreshing after the afternoon sun.
"Hey!" Cleo shouted, her eyes sparkling.
We turned. She was pointing ahead of us. A river glittered between the trees, clear water flowing over the stones, surrounded by moss and small bushes. The sunlight reflecting off it made the place almost magical.
"Wow…" Tyler murmured.
"So cool," I added.
Cleo stepped forward, a nearly childlike smile on her face.
"I really want to go in!"
Jäher, meanwhile, stayed back, arms crossed.
"No thanks. I'd rather stay dry," he said calmly.
"Come on… just a little bit," she teased.
Before he could respond, she gently grabbed his arm and, with a little laugh, pulled him toward the river. Jäher tried to resist, but the slippery stones made him lose his balance.
Splash!
Water splashed over everyone. Jäher emerged, drenched, hair plastered to his face, looking both surprised and… slightly amused.
"Hey!" he shouted. "I told you—"
"Too late!" Cleo replied, laughing out loud.
Tyler laughed too. I couldn't help but smile. The water was cool and clear, perfect for relaxing after the tension of the match.
"Okay, now I'll show you how to cross without slipping," Cleo announced, and she slid across the rocks with astonishing ease.
Jäher sighed but said nothing. He watched the water flow, the sunlight dancing on the surface, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.
"Come on, Riven, your turn," Tyler said. "You're going to catch a cold standing there."
I took a deep breath and stepped into the water, laughing at Jäher's soaked head. He shot me a nearly fatal look, but the corner of his mouth gave away that he was having fun despite himself.
Cleo slid across another stone, splashing half of us, and we all burst out laughing. The afternoon promised to be long… and far more fun than any ordinary class. Cleo let out a sudden shout:
— I'm starving!
Tyler laughed.
— Now that you mention it… me too.
I looked around. The trees seemed to close in, their trunks casting long shadows on the damp, leaf-strewn ground.
— We're in a forest, you know… I said, a little doubtful.
Jäher shrugged, impassive.
— On the contrary. There's bound to be something to eat around here.
Tyler frowned and tossed out an idea:
— Should we split up to look?
Cleo took a step back, her eyes wide with playful panic.
— In horror movies, they always split up… and it never ends well! I don't want to end up… like, you know… meat.
We exchanged a look and decided to stick together. We left our little clearing and ventured deeper into the forest. The air was damp, rich with the smell of earth and decaying leaves. Each step on the broken branches made a sharp crack.
Half to scare us, half to joke, Tyler added:
— Imagine some guy with a pig's head coming out of the forest with a chainsaw…
A shiver ran through the group. Cleo let out a small squeak and stepped back again, hugging her arms to herself. Even I felt my shoulders tense.
A few moments later, she stopped, drawn to a small flower growing between two roots.
— Look at this… it's beautiful.
She reached out, as if to touch it, but Jäher stopped her gently but firmly.
— Don't touch it. That's Aconitum napellus. One of the most toxic plants in Europe.
Cleo pulled her hand back, a mixture of surprise and admiration in her eyes. Tyler tilted his head, curious:
— How do you know that?
Jäher looked at him calmly, as if it were obvious.
— I know a lot of things you don't.
We continued walking, moving carefully, senses on high alert. Sunlight filtered through the branches, creating patches of light on the forest floor. The air smelled of wet earth, moss, and leaves. We heard rustling, birds singing, and sometimes the snap of a distant branch underfoot.
Even Jäher, usually so impassive, allowed a faint smile. Cleo noticed it and let out a triumphant little squeal, sending nervous laughter rippling through the group.
We walked on, feeling that this moment… was fragile and rare. Every laugh, every step in the water or mud seemed to suspend time. We savored it fully, without worrying about the world beyond the forest.we continued searching until the moment when Tyler called out to us:
"Hey guys, come see what I found! Quick!"
We dropped everything and rushed over right away, thinking he'd found something to eat—maybe game, fruit, anything to fill our empty stomachs after days of nothing.
But when we got there, the smell hit us first.
A thick, sweet, rotting stench that grabbed you by the throat.
To our shock, it wasn't food.
It was the shredded carcass of an animal. A horrible scene: a decomposing body, torn open, flesh hanging in blackened strips, buzzing with flies. The corpse was bloated, greenish, leaking dark fluids into the dirt. One empty eye socket stared blankly; the other was already gone, melted into a pulpy mess.
Cleo turned her face away sharply, hand over her mouth, trying not to gag.
Tyler just stood there, unfazed, a weird little grin on his face.
He pulled out his phone and turned to me.
"Jäher, come here. Take a picture of me with it."
Cleo spun around, eyes wide.
"Tyler, are you serious?!"
But he kept insisting, like it was the coolest thing ever.
Jäher shook his head, voice low and tense.
"This isn't natural. Look at the claw marks… too deep, too wide. It has to be a wolf. Or something worse."
He scanned the dark trees surrounding us.
"We can't stay here. Let's go. Now."
No one argued.
We started walking again fast. The stench clung to our clothes for hours. And in the silence of the forest, every distant snap of a twig sounded a little too much like footsteps following us. We kept walking, our phone flashlights almost dead, the cold biting our fingers. The silence was heavy, broken only by our footsteps crunching leaves and our breaths fogging in the air.
Suddenly, Jäher stopped dead and pointed ahead.
"There. Look."
About fifty feet away, in the weak beam of our lights, stood a deer. A big buck with impressive antlers, but he wasn't acting like a deer normally would when fleeing. He just stood there, head slightly lowered, staring at us. His eyes reflected the light—green, calm, but tired.
Cleo whispered:
"Is that the one that's been following us all this time?"
Jäher nodded slowly.
"Yeah. And check out his left flank."
We zoomed in with our phones. On his side was a long, jagged wound—not fatal, but fresh. The skin was torn open over about eight inches, like something had clawed or bitten him hard. Blood had run and dried into dark scabs, and the area around it was swollen. He limped a little when he took a small step sideways.
Tyler let out, almost relieved:
"Damn… he's hurt. That's why he's hanging around us. He's scared to be alone."
Jäher nodded.
"Probably got attacked by a wolf or a lynx earlier today. Not bad enough to kill him, but enough to freak him out. Wounded deer sometimes do this: they follow humans because they know we scare off predators. Or they just want company when they're vulnerable."
The deer took a few parallel steps, like he was testing us. He didn't look aggressive at all—just cautious and exhausted. He sniffed the air toward us, then turned his head back toward the bushes we'd come from. A low grunt came from his throat—not threatening, more like a stressed sigh, rough and tired.
Cleo asked quietly:
"So now what? We let him follow us?"
Jäher shrugged.
"As long as he keeps his distance, yeah. It means no big predator is right behind us. If he's still around tomorrow morning, we can maybe scare him off so he goes his own way. But for now… he's like a living alarm system."
Tyler put his phone away without taking a picture this time.
"Okay, cool. As long as it's not some psycho with antlers out for revenge."
The deer took one more step, then started walking slowly again on our left, about thirty feet away. He was really following us—not to attack, just to stay close. We could smell him now: musk, damp earth, and a bit of dried blood.
We got back on the path south, a bit calmer. The deer matched our pace. Sometimes he'd stop to nibble a patch of grass, but he always came back. Like a stray dog that decided we were his best shot at surviving the night.
The forest felt a little less hostile with him there. Cleo was stumbling every few steps.
"I can't take it anymore… We're gonna die out here."
Tyler, serious for once:
"Shh, listen."
A hum. Not animal. Mechanical. Engines? Muffled horns? Then lights—not flashlights, but orange and white halos filtering through the trees ahead of us.
Jäher picked up the pace.
"It's the city. We're almost there."
We pushed through the last bushes, thorns raking our legs one final time. And suddenly, the forest spat us out: we found ourselves at the edge of a paved road, lit by streetlamps. On the other side, buildings, flashing signs, the sound of nighttime traffic, laughter, music spilling from a late-night bar.
The city center. In the middle of the night, but alive like broad daylight.
We crossed the street like zombies, eyes wide. Cars honked gently as they swerved around us, people on the sidewalks gave us curious looks—our torn clothes, dirty faces, bags soaked in sweat and mud. But no one panicked. It was just another lively night.
The deer had stopped dead at the tree line. It watched us from the shadows, head high, then slowly turned and vanished into the darkness. As if it had decided its job was done. We never saw it again.
Cleo started laughing—a nervous, exhausted, but genuine laugh.
"We're out… We're really out."
Tyler pulled out his phone (miracle—it still had 3% battery). He snapped a photo of the four of us in front of a big glowing sign for a restaurant selling skewers and grilled fish. We looked like survivors from an adventure movie, but with huge grins.
Jäher pointed to a cheap little hotel across the street, windows lit up, the smell of coffee and fresh bread drifting toward us.
"First, a shower. Then food. And after that… we tell no one, because no one will believe us."
We crossed the central square, lit up with garlands and colorful neons. People were dancing on a makeshift stage, upbeat music blasting, kids running around with glowing balloons. The air smelled of diesel, spices, the nearby sea, and freedom.
An incredible night. We'd gone from a forest that wanted to swallow us whole to this explosion of life, noise, and light. We sat on a bench, just to breathe. Cleo rested her head on Tyler's shoulder. Jäher smiled for the first time in days.
"We survived, guys. And we made it back."
Right there, in the middle of the pulsing city center around us, we felt invincible.
Wait a sec... in two days it's the full moon. And Halloween too. And word is, this year's gonna be a blood moon."
She let out a little laugh, like she was half-joking.
"Picture it: werewolves, vampires, the whole spooky folklore crew coming alive. That would be insane if it actually happened, huh?"said Cleo to break the mood."SHUT UP ," Tyler retorted.