Abigail
The forest had a smell to it—earthy, like wet moss and pine, mixed with something I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it felt... ancient. That’s the only word I could use to describe it. And as I trudged through the thick underbrush, my feet crunching the dry leaves beneath me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were heading into something we were never supposed to find.
“Are we there yet?” I asked, turning to Theo, who was leading the way with his usual barefoot swagger, his hands casually shoved into the pockets of his jacket.
Theo glanced back over his shoulder and smirked. “Relax, Abs. We’re almost there. You’ve been asking that for the past twenty minutes.”
Owen was a few steps behind me, his hands crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed. I could tell he was
