Ethan
We didn't speak as we started walking. Alex clung to my hand, and Alexa kept brushing my arm for reassurance. The beach behind us was quiet again, almost too quiet. My stomach ached, but I forced myself to focus. We had to move. Staying in one place wasn't safe, not with whatever had risen from the sand.
I glanced at the shoreline one last time. The place we had played on, the sun reflecting off the waves… it looked normal now, but I knew better. The world had shifted in those minutes.
We followed the narrow path leading away from the beach. The trees became thicker as we went, branches brushing against our faces. The wind had softened, but a strange heaviness hung in the air. Even the twins seemed aware.
"Are we going the right way?" Alex asked softly.
I nodded. "Yes. We just need to keep moving. Don't look back."
We had been moving for what felt like hours. Alexa's legs were stiff. Alex's hands were sore from clutching mine so tightly. My stomach ached. Every step forward felt heavier than the last.
Alex clung to my hand. Alexa walked on my other side, unusually quiet.
The sand gave way to roots and dry leaves beneath our feet. The air changed; colder, heavier, filled with the smell of earth instead of salt.
"Ethan," Alexa whispered, "are we going home?"
I swallowed. Home felt impossibly far away now.
"We're just going somewhere safer first," I said. "Stay close. No letting go."
They nodded.
We kept going.
It was quieter here than it should have been. No birds. No insects. Just the wind brushing against leaves that did not seem to want to move.
Then the ground under us trembled.
Once.
Slow.
Like something shifting far beneath the soil.
Alex froze. "That's the same feeling… from the beach."
"I know," I said.
A second tremor rolled beneath our shoes, stronger than the first. Alexa pressed herself against me.
The earth ahead of us lifted slightly not breaking open fully, just… swelling, then settling again. Like something testing the surface.
We didn't breathe.
We didn't move.
Silence swallowed everything.
Then, somewhere deeper in the forest, the ground thudded again, louder, farther away from us than the tremor beneath our feet, as if something huge had landed or turned.
Alexa's eyes widened. "There's more than one?"
"Looks like it. We have to keep going now."
We stepped carefully over fallen branches, broken boards, and debris littered across the forest floor. Then, without warning, Alex's foot hit something hard.
CRASH!
Rubble shifted under our weight, stones and splintered wood tumbling noisily into the dirt. My heart froze.
"Alex!" I hissed, but it was too late.
Somewhere ahead deeper in the trees, a low, grinding sound erupted. The wind carried it straight to us, and I knew instantly: we had drawn attention.
"Run!" I shouted, grabbing their hands.
A scream split the air. Alexa.
I spun toward her, but it didn't matter. The sound had already carried. Whatever was moving in the forest had noticed us.
I didn't wait to think. I pulled them forward, branches whipping our faces, leaves scratching our skin. Every step I took, I could hear the thud behind us heavy, deliberate, following.
We had crossed the line. Whatever was in the forest had marked us.
And I had no idea how we were going to survive it.