"This is serious, Dane. It hasn't happened since… since she was two," Melinda whispered, her voice thick with worry. She kept her eyes on Lauren, who lay in the bed, feverish and trembling, her grip on her parents unyielding. "Do you think it's happening again? But why? What does it mean?"
Dane shook his head, unable to find the words. He stood by the bed, helpless, watching their daughter burn with fever and fear. Now, after all these years, the nightmare had returned, the one that had haunted Lauren when she was just a toddler.
That first time, Lauren had been only two. It was a peaceful evening, the sky outside washed in twilight hues, when a sudden scream pierced the calm. They had rushed to her side, finding her thrashing, wailing as if something was ripping her apart from the inside.
"No! Let me go, Mew, I'm sorry!" Lauren had cried, her tiny body shaking with such violence it seemed like she was in the grip of an attack. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, as though still trapped in the nightmare. Dane had scooped her up, holding her tight. "It's okay, Lauren. Dada's here," he'd said, but it had taken nearly thirty minutes for her to calm.
Once the episode had passed, she'd stared at her arm, eyes wide in shock. "Mew tried to hurt me," she whispered, showing them the faint scratches. "She looked scary."
Mew, the cat Dane had gotten Lauren earlier that year to help with her loneliness, had been her constant companion. Lauren adored the cat, caring for her like a sibling. But after that night, something changed. The next morning, Mew was found dead by the river, her tiny body cold and drenched. No one could explain how she'd ended up there, how she had drowned, but Lauren knew. Somehow, deep inside, she knew her nightmare had something to do with it. And the realization had left her shaken, so unsure of herself, so terrified of the unknown.
Since then, Lauren had been afraid to sleep. She'd sit up through the nights, gazing at the stars, counting them until exhaustion finally overtook her. But this time felt different—worse. The fear that clung to her now was sharper, deeper, and though her body burned with fever, she wouldn't let go of her parents.
"Mami, don't leave me. Please. Dada, I love you—please don't leave me. Don't go. I'm scared. I don't like to be alone."
Melinda's tears spilled freely, her heart aching as she cradled Lauren close. "We're not leaving you, my love," she whispered, pressing her lips to Lauren's damp forehead. Dane, too, struggled with his emotions, blinking back tears that eventually betrayed him. "We'll stay right here, Lauren," he murmured, voice thick with the weight of his promises. "We love you so much."
Lauren cried and cried until exhaustion finally overtook her, pulling her into a fitful sleep. But even in her rest, the dread didn't leave. It hovered over her, a dark cloud, waiting.
At midnight, she woke again. The room was cold, too cold, and something was wrong—she could feel it. Her parents were gone. Her breath hitched as she frantically searched the room. The walls seemed to close in, and her heart raced. She could feel the cold sweat on her back, the tightness in her throat. Eyes darting around the darkness, her fingers clawed at the sheets, searching for warmth, for the pulse of life, for anything familiar.
"Mami? Dada?" she whispered, but the silence was deafening. "No, no, please…"
She stumbled out of bed, hitting her foot on a chair that had moved from its place. The pain shot up her leg, but she barely registered it as she fell to the floor. Was it anger she felt? Fear? Frustration? She didn't know, and it all blurred into a single wave of helplessness. She sobbed, curled into herself, not knowing what else to do.
Minutes passed, and then she heard footsteps. Her heart leaped into her throat as she scrambled to her feet, wiping away the tears. Two figures were approaching the house.
"Mami?" she called, her voice a fragile hope.
"Ren, honey, you're awake," Melinda said, her voice soft and full of concern. She rushed to embrace her daughter. "We're here, we just went to check the traps at the edge of the forest for tomorrow's breakfast."
The rest of the night passed in quiet peace, but the shadows of her nightmares lingered. A week passed with no incident, and Lauren began to question herself, unsure if her fears had any real basis or if her mind was playing tricks. Maybe it was just trauma, she told herself. Maybe that's all it ever was.
Two weeks later, Zoni, the village head, summoned all the hunters to the village hall. His voice, though weakened with age, still carried authority as he addressed the hunters.
"Our annual festival is upon us, and with it comes the Hunters' Game," he declared, his eyes sweeping over the crowd. "You know the rules—bring back the most game, and the village will reward you with honor. But remember, this is not a competition of bloodlust. We honor the spirits of the forest, and any form of animosity will not be tolerated. You are to have fun and compete with respect. Understood?"
"Yes, Zhasuni!" the hunters chorused in response. Zhasuni was the title given to the highest authority in the village, the keeper of tradition.
The hunters dispersed to prepare, and the Esmonds returned home. That night, like every night since the nightmare, Lauren slept between her parents, seeking comfort in their presence.
At dawn, the hunters gathered once more and set off into the forest, but for Lauren, the day passed quietly. By noon, after finishing her chores, she dozed off, her dreams pulling her back into their grip.
She heard footsteps in her sleep. A familiar figure approached the door, and her heart leaped with joy. "Mami, you're back! Did you catch something?" she called, running toward the figure, but as she drew closer, her breath caught in her throat.
Lauren's heart froze as her mother's familiar features twisted into something unrecognizable—pale, translucent skin, eyes hollow and lifeless. The ghostly figure from her nightmare loomed before her, its icy presence suffocating the air around her.
"No!" Lauren screamed, backing away, her hands trembling as she reached for anything she could use to protect herself. "Stay away from me! You're not my mother!"
The figure's voice whispered, cold and slow. "L-A-U-R-E-N"…
It stretched out its hand, pointing toward something—a man, covered in blood, lying lifeless on the ground. The apparition seemed to want to tell her something, but fear gripped Lauren too tightly to notice.
Suddenly, a bang shattered the dream, and Lauren jolted awake.
"Lauren, Lauren, are you asleep? Wake up!" a voice called. It was Ryan. Lauren's heart was still pounding as she opened the door, but before she could speak, Ryan grabbed her arm. "No time to explain, we have to go—now!" he whispered, his eyes wide with fear. The urgency in his voice sent a fresh wave of dread through her as he pulled her toward the village center.