.
.
.
Panic grips me, cold and relentless, tightening around my chest like a vice.
“Dylan!” My voice cuts through the silence, desperate, raw. “Can you hear me?! Where are you?”
Nothing.
My pulse hammers. I try again, louder this time. “Dylan!”
Still no answer.
A hollow dread sinks into my bones.
He was here. Right here.
And now—he's gone.
I don’t know what this feeling is. It’s clawing at me, tightening around my chest, making it hard to breathe. I feel lost and… and I…
No.
I can’t be worried.
But the ache in my stomach, the racing of my heart—what else could it be?
I push forward, my pulse pounding in my ears. My eyes dart over the ground, scanning for anything—footprints, broken branches, a shadow in the trees.
“Dylan…” My voice is barely a whisper, swallowed by the fore
