*Chapter 2: Baby in the Forest*
Morning had been Ryan's idea.
"Shortcut," he'd said. "I know this forest."
Three children. Seven years old. They left after breakfast with full stomachs and empty heads.
Now the sun was low. Evening bled through the trees, turning green to gold to blood.
And they were still lost.
Ryan kicked a pinecone. "Oh no. I think I forgot the path to town."
Emily spun on him. "I _know_, idiot. We've been walking in circles since lunch!"
Kite wiped sweat from his brow, even though the air was cooling. "We should choose another path. Our parents will be scared. The town cops are probably looking for us by now."
Wrong thing to say.
Emily shouted. "You idiot! What did you do?" She lunged. "Get back here!"
Ryan was already running. "Sorry! Sorry, Emy! I won't think about forest adventures again!"
Then the forest answered.
A sound. Not wind. Not bird.
Lower. Older. The kind of growl that lives in your blood, left over from when humans were prey.
All three stopped breathing.
Kite's whisper was dust. "There are monsters in this forest. They roam for prey."
"Both of you, slow down," he said.
They went right. Kite's dad always said: lost, go right.
The trees heard.
They grew closer. Trunks thick as houses. Canopy stitching shut the sky. Evening light came in shafts, then spears, then needles.
Emily stopped. "We should go back. Wait. Someone will find us before dark."
Ryan nodded so fast his head might fall off. "Yes, yes. The forest is getting darker and it's not even night yet."
Kite raised one finger. "Can you hear it?"
Ryan opened his mouth. Kite's glare killed the words. "Don't speak."
So they listened.
And the forest gave them this:
A cry. Thin. Human. Wrong.
Ryan went pale. "Ghost. Run."
Kite shook his head. "If someone needs help… that's why."
They followed the sound. Evening made everything honest — no shadows deep enough to lie.
The box sat in the roots of a tree older than towns.
Emily and Kite hit their knees. Last gold of day lit the wood.
Inside: a baby. Red-faced. Fists like pebbles. Screaming at the evening like it stole something from him.
A milk bottle lay beside him. Clean. Full. Emily snatched it. Pressed it to his mouth with hands that wouldn't stop shaking.
The crying stopped.
Just sucking sounds. Just three children trying to remember how to breathe.
Kite stared at the tree line. "Who would leave a baby here? In the forest? In the evening?"
Emily didn't look up from the child. "We should take him with us."
"You're right," Kite said.
"I found the road!" Ryan came crashing back through ferns. "I went ahead when you checked the box. It's there! Through those trees!"
He crouched, looked at the baby, then at Emily. Relief cracked his face. "Oh, finally. We can go home before night."
Emily's relief died fast. "We're late for school now, you know."
Ryan winced. "Yes. Yes."
Then, smaller: "What are we going to do with him?"
"We're taking him to town," Kite said. Not a question.
Emily nodded. "We can't leave him. Monsters come out at night. And whoever left him… they're still out there somewhere."
Ryan gulped. "Yeah, you both are correct. So… who knows how to hold a baby?"
"I don't know!" Emily snapped.
Ryan made the mistake of laughing.
"You know how, right?" Each word was a punch to his shoulder. "Ow! Emy! Stop!"
"I know," Kite said.
Both of them froze. Stared.
Kite blinked. "Why are you staring at me?"
"No. Nothing," they said together. Too quick.
Kite reached in. His arms knew what to do. He lifted the baby like the world was glass and the evening was the last light they'd ever see.
The baby sighed. Went still against his chest.
"Now we should walk toward home," Kite said. "Before the sun's all the way gone."
"Yes," Ryan and Emily said.
The forest ended in a tear. One step: roots and dark. Next step: dirt road and sky.
The town was ahead. Windows flickering to life as evening surrendered to night. Lanterns like watching eyes.
They walked.
"Your fault we're late."
"No, _your_ fault we're lost!"
"You're both idiots."
"You take that back!"
Kite in the middle. Wall between them. Every time their voices climbed, the baby twitched in his sleep.
"Quiet," Kite whispered. "He'll cry again."
Ten steps of silence. That was their record. Then it started again.
Three children. One baby. Evening at their backs, and a town full of questions waiting ahead.
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*To be continued…*