Rocky, Henry, and Vasily ventured deep into the wintry forest, mounted on their trusty horses. The frozen air clung to their faces, heightening their senses as they sought refuge from the bitterness of the season. Little did they know that what awaited them in the heart of the forest was far colder and more haunting than the winter chill.
As they neared the scar of a long-forgotten Civil War battlefield, the eerie stillness of the trees sent shivers down their spines. The forest held its breath, as if preserving the memory of the horrors it had witnessed. It was a place where the living paid tribute to the fallen, and the souls of the departed roamed freely.
Amidst the frozen ground, they stumbled upon remnants of a forgotten conflict. Corpses, preserved by the harsh winter, lay partially buried beneath the snow. Vasily, his voice trembling, estimated that these lost souls had met their demise at least seven years earlier. The war had truly left its mark on their desolate resting place.
Henry Confederate sharpshooter, could not suppress a shudder. "We have no time to bury them," he muttered, swallowing hard. The reality of war weighed heavily on his conscience, but fear crackled in his voice. Rocky approached the corpses, her eyes filled with both curiosity and fear. She had seen enough death to last a lifetime, and her gaze lingered on the lifeless bodies as if searching for a connection.
Suddenly, a gasp escaped Rocky's lips, her breath becoming visible in the frigid air. "Lorena," she whispered, her voice trembling. A long time ago, Rocky had taken the life of a young woman named Lorena. The memory of that fateful night had haunted her dreams, her guilt a constant companion. And now, standing in the midst of this grim battlefield, Rocky believed she saw Lorena's vengeful spirit lurking behind a gnarled tree.
Henry turned his gaze towards the tree with apprehension, but all he saw were shadows dancing upon the snow. "Lorena has been dead for a long time," Vasily reassured Rocky, sensing her distress. His words were rational, yet the forest had a way of warping reality, and his certainty wavered.
Rocky clung to Henry, her grip tightening as fear consumed her. She knew in her heart that Lorena, twisted by her untimely demise, had transformed into something far more sinister than a mere ghost. A demon, hell-bent on hunting Rocky down for the sins of the past.
Together, they turned their backs on the battlefield, their boots crunching in the cold snow. With every step, they left the haunting scar behind.