Chapter 1
The air smells like honeysuckle and secrets. And I have a feeling this summer is going to change my life…even if I don’t know how yet.
I lean my head against the car window, watching the trees blur past. Pines stretch on forever, tall and whispering. My mom called this trip a “break from the noise.” I call it exile.
Meanwhile, my twin brother is spending his summer in New York where he gets to party, bar hop, and live his best life with our friends. He got rooftop views and midnight pizza. I got trees and curfews. Not exactly a fair trade.
Still, the way the woods breathe beside the road makes my skin prickle. Like they’re watching. Waiting. I see strange carvings etched into trees along the highway. Symbols, maybe, but I don’t recognize them. A few old road signs are scratched out, like someone didn’t want outsiders to find this place easily. Yeah, creepy as hell.
“One whole summer in a town with no Starbucks and a population smaller than my senior class,” I mutter. “What could possibly go wrong?”
Uncle Ray chuckles from the driver’s seat. “Plenty, if you’re not careful.”
“Ray,” Aunt Celeste says, smacking his arm with a smile. Her hair is pinned in a loose braid, gray strands woven into dark coils. She has kind eyes, but they’re sharp, too, like she sees things others don’t.
“What? She’s eighteen now. Old enough to know better, or at least old enough to listen when we warn her.”
I raise a brow. “Warn me about what exactly?”
Celeste gives me a look in the rearview mirror. “Things get wild in the woods.”
I snort. “What, like wild raccoons? Bigfoot? A shirtless lumberjack cult?”
Ray adds, “Just don’t go wandering off after dark. And don’t trust everything that looks human.”
I laugh. “Is this a horror movie or...”
They don’t laugh back.
I think back to last night, standing in the kitchen while my mom packed snacks into my bag like I was still a little girl heading off to summer camp. Her hands trembled slightly, even as she tried to act like this wasn’t a big deal.
My brother lounged on the counter, smug and amused, watching the whole thing like it was the highlight of his week. I remember wondering what I’d done to deserve being shipped off to the woods while he got to live it up in the city.
“You don’t have to go,” my mom said suddenly.
I blinked. “Oh great, then I choose not to go.”
She didn’t even look up. Just sealed the zip on the bag and said, “Nope. You’re going. Because if you can’t find your footing here, maybe you’ll find it there.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Then why tell me I don’t have to go?”
She hesitated. “Because I had a dream. A strange one. You were in the woods, calling for me, but I couldn’t find you. No matter how hard I tried.”
My brother snorted. “Damn. That’s dramatic.”
She ignored him and stepped toward me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m serious, Daisy. If something doesn’t feel right out there, and I mean anything...you leave. Don’t wait around for someone else to save you. Promise me.”
I didn’t say a word. Just stood there while the warning settled like a weight in my chest.
Now I wish I had answered her. The way she said it, the weight in her voice just unsettled me. It wasn’t just a parent’s paranoia. It felt like something deeper. Like she knew something she couldn’t explain.
I tried to play it cool, but the tension sat heavy between us. My brother had already wandered off, probably texting our friends about how insane our mom sounded.
She held my gaze. “Just trust your gut, Daisy. And if you ever feel like something isn’t right, then you leave. No second chances. No hesitation.”
I didn’t respond, but something in me quietly agreed. Now here I am, in the middle of no where, a place called Briar Falls.
Uncle Ray and Aunt Celeste’s house is tucked right at the forest’s edge, wrapped in ivy and shadow. It looks like it belongs to a forgotten time. The porch creaks beneath my sneakers as I step up, fireflies blinking in the dusk like the woods have their own pulse.
Uncle Ray opens the door with a grunt. “Make yourself at home. Guest room’s upstairs, only door on the left. You even have your own bathroom connected to your room.”
“Oh, how five star!” I grinned sarcastically.
“Damn right,” Uncle Ray playfully swat the back of my head.
Inside smells like rosemary and old wood. Celeste’s herbal touch is everywhere. I am talking about bundles of lavender, hanging citrus peels, tiny jars labeled with things like “Sleep Tea” and “Warding Salt.” A dried crow feather hangs over the front door, tied with twine and beads. It rattles slightly as I pass under it.
The house feels alive and magical. She’s a retired nurse but has turned half-healer for the town. I remember my mom once whispering that some folks thought Celeste was a witch. Maybe she is. The house certainly feels enchanted.
That night, I sit on the bed, suitcase half-unpacked, scrolling through my phone. No service. Of course.
My thumb hovers over my mom’s name. A missed call. And a text.
Miss you already. Call me when you can. Love you—Mom.
I let the screen go black. I remember the fight. My mom saying she didn’t recognize me lately. That I’d been quiet. Detached. I snapped back. Said I didn’t need to be fixed.
But the truth?
I don’t know what I need. I just know something inside me has felt off since spring. Like my whole world shifted a few inches to the left and no one else noticed. Graduation came and went. My friends made plans, picked colleges, fell in love. I packed a duffel and got on a bus.
Maybe I’m trying to escape.
Or maybe I’m waiting to be found.
Tonight's dinner is roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans from the garden. Comfort food served with a side of quiet tension. It tastes like the kind of meal meant to soothe something no one wants to talk about.
“So what do people my age actually do around here?” I ask, more curious than sarcastic.
Ray slices into his chicken, chewing deliberately before answering. “Some head out to the Pines. Bonfires. Music. Dares that stop being funny after the third beer.”
Celeste’s expression tightens. “It’s not somewhere we’d suggest.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why? You think the woods are going to eat me alive?”
"If not the woods, then the wolves," Ray sets his fork down slowly. “The Pines don’t stay quiet without a reason. There are things out there that haven’t walked upright in generations and they don’t care much for visitors.”
Celeste gives him a look like he’s said too much, but he just shrugs.
I give a dry laugh. “Cool. I’ll make sure to bring garlic and a silver knife, just in case.”
Ray doesn’t laugh. Neither does Celeste. The silence that follows stretches a little too long.
Celeste is the one to finally break it. “How’s your mom doing? Jenna holding up alright back in New York?”
“She’s… managing,” I say, which feels easier than explaining the tight way her voice sounded the last time we spoke. “Working too much. Worrying even more. You know how she is.”
Ray nods, his expression softening. “That sounds about right. She always took things to heart. Even when she was little.”
Celeste offers a small smile. “And Daniel? He behaving himself in the city?”
I laugh under my breath. “If by ‘behaving’ you mean bouncing between parties and pretending curfew is a myth, then sure. Living his best life, apparently.”
Ray snorts. “Figures. That boy could charm his way out of a speeding ticket and into a free dinner.”
“Exactly,” I mutter. “Meanwhile, I got sent to the land of whispers and sage bundles.”
Celeste raises an eyebrow, but there’s humor in it. “Don’t knock the sage. It’s kept this house quiet longer than you’ve been alive.”
Later, needing air and distance, I head down the country road. The streets are still, the kind of quiet that hums in your bones. Pines sway overhead, and the last light of day casts long shadows that stretch like fingers.
A faded sign creaks in the breeze: Gunner’s Grocery + Gas. One flickering light buzzes above the door like it’s been dying for years.
Inside, the store reeks of motor oil, jerky, and something faintly rotten. The man behind the counter doesn’t even glance up until I place a bag of chips on the counter.
He’s taller than I expected. Lean, but rough around the edges. A jagged scar snakes down the side of his neck, and one of his canine teeth is missing like it was yanked out with no anesthetic and a grudge. His eyes, a yellow-brown too pale to be natural, settle on me with unnerving focus. His scent is worse up close...damp earth, metal, and something wilder, animal almost.
“You’re new,” he says, voice like gravel.
“Just visiting,” I reply, trying not to stare at the scar.
He narrows his eyes slightly. “You’ve got that look.”
My brows pull together. “What look?”
“The kind that doesn’t know she’s already being hunted.”
The words land like a slap, sharp and unwelcome.
Before I can respond, the bell above the door jingles.
Four guys walk in, all tall, confident, and clearly not here for snacks. They don’t speak, just move like they own the place. The one in front stood tall, broad-shouldered, with dark messy hair and storm-gray eyes. He walks past me without saying a word. But he does glance at my direction. Just one flick of his gaze, and it pins me like a blade.
Electric. Intense. Something I feel low in my spine. I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until his eyes shift away.
The others glance at me, sizing me up with smirks that don’t quite reach their eyes. They say nothing, but I can feel their attention like heat on the back of my neck. The last guy to pass leans toward Gunner and murmurs something, but I don’t catch it.
Gunner slides my chips across the counter. “Tell Celeste I said hey,” he says, eyes never leaving mine.
I take the bag and nod stiffly. My feet move faster than my thoughts.
“Welcome to Pines,” he calls after me, the words drenched in something that isn’t hospitality.
Back at the house, I settle onto the porch swing with a sweating glass of lemonade in hand. The trees across the yard stand too still, like they’re listening. The woods are silent, but not comfortably so, it’s the kind of hush that makes your instincts twitch.
Then something moves.
A rustle.
A breath that doesn’t belong.
Then laughter. It's soft, broken, almost childlike. It flits between the trees, weightless and wrong. Then a howl. Violent. Cut short like a scream with the air ripped out of it. A chill needles down my spine.
The door creaks open behind me. Celeste steps out, barefoot, eyes scanning the tree line. “Inside,” she says, voice low but firm. “It’s late.”
“I heard something—”
She cuts me off with a look. “Don’t listen to the woods, Daisy. They whisper things they shouldn’t. And sometimes, they lie.”
She moves to the railing and lights a tightly wrapped bundle of sage, letting the smoke drift into the night. The way she watches the trees… it’s not superstition. It’s caution.
She waits until the flame is out and the smoke curls heavy toward the pines. Only then does she step back inside, locking the door behind her.
I don’t sleep well. My dreams are full of eyes. Shadows. Something calling my name from beneath the pines. Something old. Hungry.
Sleep doesn’t come easy. When it does, it’s broken—tangled in flashes of twisted trees and running. Always running. The woods are behind me, endless and pulsing with something feral. I don’t see what’s chasing me, but I feel it. Teeth at my heels. Breath at my neck. Wild eyes in the dark.
I wake up tangled in the sheets, heart pounding like I never stopped running. In the morning, I find a note under my door.
Hey new chick! Party tomorrow tonight. You coming or what?
No name. No address. Just a symbol: A circle. Slashed through by a clawed mark. I stare at it, heart racing. I should’ve said no. But I don’t.
God, I should’ve. But if I had… then this strange, wild little adventure never would’ve happened to me.
