The fire crackled softly as night fell over the woods, casting long, flickering shadows on the trees around. Their small campsite lay in a depression covered by a copse of ancient pines, thick with the scent of moss and damp earth. Above them, the moonlight filtering through the overhanging branches cast weak patches of light on David, Ivane, and Giorgi, all three sitting quietly in the balance, each wrestling his own thoughts stirred by events of the last few days.
For a moment, there was only the sound of the fire crackling rhythmically; David allowed himself to be taken in by its warmth, to let it ground him. But that too seemed temporary, as if the residual dread of those shadows—the whispering echoes through the forest—would not leave his mind.
