The mist had grown dense enough as Scarlett and Eliot made their way toward the old stone bridge. The air began to grow colder now, heavier, clammier, seeming to cling to her with every step. Eliot insisted on coming with her his presence steadying, though his brow furrowed in concern.
Scarlett could feel he, too, was nervous about what they might uncover. The woods were still, but not the way the trees should be. That silence here felt wrong. There was no bird song; no rustle of leaves and no distant howl of a fox.
Only a steady beat of their footsteps on the wet earth and groans of trees as if wind stirred mist. "Do you think this is the place?" Eliot asked softly, his voice cautious, his eyes flicking toward the darkness seeping around them.
Scarlett nodded, her voice hesitant. "Rebecca said the old stone bridge. She didn't say why, but something feels important about this place." Eliot's frown deepened. His eyes drifted toward the veiled shape of trees.
Scarlett glanced at him, her heart beating harder with every step. "Off?". "Like we're being watched," he said. Scarlett froze mid-step, her hand instinctively reaching into her coat pocket for her phone. But her thoughts stalled when she looked around.
"Stop," Eliot breathed, taking her arm suddenly. His voice was tight with urgency. "Don't move."
Scarlet's heart thudded in her throat. She looks up at the mist, but she sees nothing. Her breathing is too harsh, far too harsh. She can see biting into her lip, willing herself to be silent, to move not at all. And then she heard. A sound soft, intentional. Footfalls. It isn't that far away.
Eliot's grip around her arm tightened. "Run," he whispered. His voice was low and commanding.
Before she could ask what he meant, a figure moved in the fog, black and half-shadowy. Scarlett's body responded before her mind could process the command. Her legs moved, and she sprinted through the damp woods, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she forced herself to push forward.
The mist wrapped around her, and the them, the ground beneath herwas feet was uneven and slick. Branches clawed at her coat, and her breath and pounding feet intertwined with the odd, shifting sounds of the woods. Eliot was beside her, face taut, breathing steady as he strove to keep up.
Footsteps came behind them a harsh, deliberate sound. Something someone was following them, and they could feel it.
"Go on!".
Scarlett's heart went bounding out of her body. She was freezing with terror; freezing as the chill of the night air gripped her back as they pushed through the trees. The old stone bridge was nigh; she knew it, quaking through the shrouded mist. But still, those shadows shut in above their heads, merciless as they closed in, closer yet.
And out of the darkness a stone bridge thrust forward: a gray archway old and indistinct as it loomed against the night. Scarlett ran out upon the rough stones of it, her breath going in sharp. The air was sharper there and the gurgle of the water that ran beneath the bridge lent her a minute's footing in the dark.
But the footsteps were still behind them. Eliot stumbled slightly as they made their way across the mossy stones. Scarlett's voice broke through the fog, panic creeping in.
"What are they?" .
Eliot was beside her, his gaze sharp as he scanned the shadows. His voice was grim as he answered.
"They're the ones who've been watching. The shadows, the ones connected to the Collective. We've stirred something, Scarlett. They're not happy."
Scarlett's legs felt jelly. She wanted to quit, catch her breath, but she didn't have the nerve. Her fingers gripped the cold stone as it moved on. Footsteps now seemed louder, closer.
"Don't stop," Eliot growled between gritted teeth. "They'll catch us if we do."
Scarlett's brain skittered. Shadows became apparitions, vague shapes with very unamorphous purposes. What they do they to them if they found them? The very notion coiled her about, all the more with glacial knife edges.
But run she did. "Eliot said that voice, repeating: they ran across a bridge into a thick hedge. "Run on."
Scarlett didn't even blink; adrenaline coursed through her. They ran, mist swirling in patches, so visibility was poor, and branches were slashing at their faces. Footsteps echoed behind them as well. All was acute: sound, every sense, shadow.
They're not running because they are being chased; they are hunted.
The woods were a maze of twisting paths and familiar landmarks swallowed by fog.
Scarlett tried to concentrate, but her mind reeled. Her body hurt with the exertion of running, but she pushed herself on by her fear.
Finally, Eliot stopped and pulled her behind a large oak tree. He leaned against the bark, his breath coming in sharp, heavy gasps.
Eliot's gaze was fixed on the mist, his expression tense. "We wait. They won't stop easily, but they're slower in this fog. We'll stay quiet here and figure out how to move next."
Scarlett clutched at her coat, her body trembling. She could still hear the distant sound of footsteps in the fog, but they were fading, just a little.
"Why are they following us?" she managed to ask.
Eliot looked into her eyes. Low voice. "Because they always are. They don't like it at the Hawthorne Collective. They watch, they listen, and when you're getting too close… then they remind you that your curiosity has consequences."
Scarlett shivered, letting the words settle upon her chest.
"Consequences," she whispered. Be still. Don't let them see you. We get out of here. But every bit we dig up, makes them stronger."
Scarlett nodded weakly, still she could feel her chest tightened with fear and confusion. Her breathing sounded loud in her ears.
In the mist, the shadows waited.
And Scarlett knew they wouldn't leave this meeting unscathed.
The hunt was on.