As they ascended, the trail grew steeper, and the air grew colder. The trees loomed closer, their branches tangled in a web of gnarled fingers, as if trying to keep them from going further. The deeper they went into the hills, the louder the rustling sounds became. But it wasn't just wind now—it was as if the whispers were coming from all directions.
Jiv's footsteps faltered as he caught a faint voice. "Did you hear that?" he asked, his voice suddenly quiet.
Viya strained her ears, but the woods were as silent as ever. She shook her head. "It's just the wind, Jiv. Let's keep going."
But the whispers continued. Low at first, then rising in pitch. They were soft, indistinct, like a thousand voices all speaking at once.