My legs slow as I stare at the tree just ahead.
What if it’s Smoke?
I haven’t seen him since the bar.
Oh God.Now I’m writing a murder documentary in my head.
My breath heaves from my lungs.
I take another step... and my foot hits something hard.
I look down at the rock jutting from the earth.
My arms flail for balance.
I'm pretty sure I'm about to eat dirt... and immediately get murdered by whatever psycho is hiding behind that tree.
By some miracle, I manage to stay upright, stumbling a few feet, tree bark beneath my fingers.
The tree saved me.
I cling to it, panting from fear and exertion.
Calm down.Panicking does no good.
Think of that movie you watched with Violet.
Her face flashes through my mind.
My fingers dig into the rough bark until my breathing settles.
Stop being such a chicken. Go investigate.
Sending up a quick prayer, I release the tree and head toward the ominous one in front of me.
My shoes crunch over foliage, announcing my approach.
One...
Two...
I spring forward, fists held up like I’m ready to box someone…
But there’s no one there.
My eyes dart around.
Nothing.
I relax my hands and slowly lower them.
You’ve officially gone crazy.
I take a step back.
Then another.
Still nothing.
