Dusk settles heavier than usual.
Not darker. Not colder. Heavier, like the air itself has decided to stay close to the ground instead of lifting away with the light. The sky fades in slow layers, color draining without urgency, as if even the horizon is reluctant to move on. The forest does not rustle the way it normally does at this hour. Leaves hold still. Branches do not sigh. Birds quiet earlier than they should, calls cutting off mid cadence. Insects pause between sounds, the usual rhythm broken into uneven gaps, as if they are waiting for a cue that never comes.
The land feels muted.
Listening.
I step out of the cabin and feel it immediately, the way my skin prickles without tightening, the way my breath stays steady instead of hitching. There is no rush of adrenaline. No spike o
