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But I don’t get a chance to say any of those things.
Because a low rumbling, like an accelerating freight train, echoes out around us. Rumbling and trembling from under the ground.
A shiver unlike no other crawls over my scalp and tingles the icy hairs at the back of my neck. “What’s that noise?”
And then a loud sharp crack rips over the mountainside. It reverberates in my bones and shakes the ground violently.
We both scramble back to our feet, climbing up each other.
“That was probably just a tree coming down with the wind,” he says.
“Vaughn, I think you’re really, really wrong.”
