They ran until their lungs burned and their legs felt carved from stone, the forest whipping past in a blur of shadow and frost. At last, the trees broke open, spitting them out into a barren stretch of white. No trees. No cover. Just an endless, wind-scoured expanse of snow under a starless sky.
The group staggered to a halt, panting, steam rising in ragged bursts from their mouths. Their boots sank into the powder, crunching loud in the silence that followed. Each of them turned, scanning the tree line, searching for the thing that had chased them—half expecting it to emerge, crawling into the open.
Nothing. Just the black edge of the woods, watching.
The stillness was worse than the chase.
For a long breath, no one spoke. Then Ivy's voice, low and brittle, cut the silence.
"Look—" she pointed ahead. The open stretch sloped steadily downward, a pale ribbon carving its way into the distance.
"The mountain," Mason muttered, chest heaving. "That's it. That's the way down. We're finally out."
Relief flickered across their faces, weak and fragile, like embers struggling against the cold. They began forward, steps crunching slow and heavy into the snow.
But a few paces in, Leo slowed. His breath came in shallow pulls, his eyes fixed not on the path ahead but the tree line behind them. His face slackened, almost childlike, as if something hollowed him out.
"Leo?" Vera's voice was careful, uncertain.
He didn't answer. His lips moved faintly, whispering a name, a ghost caught in the wind.
"…Mia."
Ivy stopped in her tracks. "What did you say?"
Leo turned, dazed, and began to step back toward the trees. His expression was distant, unfocused, like someone walking in a dream.
"Leo!" Mason barked, confusion sharpening into alarm. "Where the hell are you going?"
"...Mia..."
Leo's steps dragged deeper into the snow, his eyes glassy, fixed on something no one else could see.
"...wait for me..."
His voice was thin, a thread unraveling into the dark.
"...I'm coming..."
Mason's boots crunched hard as he rushed forward, grabbing Leo by the shoulders and shaking him.
"Leo, we're going out! This is the way out—where the hell are you going?"
Leo's gaze stayed far away, unfocused, lips trembling with the same whispered name.
Mason's jaw clenched; he glanced back at Vera and Ivy with a panicked, helpless look, then snapped his eyes back to Leo. His hand came down harsh and sharp across Leo's cheek.
"Leo, wake up! She's gone—she's not here!"
The slap cracked through the cold air.
Leo blinked hard, stumbling back as if surfacing from underwater. His chest heaved, eyes darting between the trees and Mason's face in disoriented confusion.
Slowly, his hand lifted to his cheek, fingers brushing the raw sting.
"Ouch," he muttered, voice hoarse. Then, blinking again like he was waking from a dream, he frowned at Mason. "Why would you do that, man?"
The others let out a collective sigh, shoulders sagging with the release of breath they didn't know they were holding.
Mason's hand stayed firm on Leo's shoulder as he leaned down, voice low but urgent.
"You were walking into the trees," he explained. "We kept calling you, but you didn't hear us. You just… kept muttering a name. Mia."
Leo's brow furrowed, his lips parting as if the name itself startled him. "Mia?" he echoed, almost in disbelief. "My sister?"
Mason gave a tense nod.
Confusion clouded Leo's face, but before he could speak, Ivy's voice cut through, sharp and determined.
"Whatever that was, forget it. This path—" she pointed down the slope of the mountain, the white expanse stretching endlessly— "this is our way out. We're not stopping again."
The group exchanged a quick, silent agreement, and with weary steps, they began moving downhill.
The group settled into a steadier rhythm, their steps crunching softly against the packed snow. For the first time in what felt like forever, they weren't running, weren't stumbling, weren't dragged by panic. The mountain air bit at their cheeks, but the silence between them was calmer now—just the sound of their boots and the wind brushing past the pines.
Leo walked in the middle of the group, still quiet, as if trying to piece together the fragments Mason had told him. Mason kept glancing at him from the corner of his eye, but said nothing more.
It was Ivy who stopped first. "Wait—" she pointed downhill.
There, cutting through the endless stretch of white, a dark line broke the landscape: a road, half-buried under snowdrifts. And on that road, not far ahead, sat a car. Its shape hunched against the frost, windows clouded, but undeniably real.
For a moment, no one spoke. The sight of it was so ordinary, so normal, it almost felt like a hallucination.
They stood frozen on the slope, staring at the car.
The doors creaked open, and figures spilled out. A group of teenagers—three of them—bundled in hoodies and jackets, their laughter cutting sharp through the cold air. One of the boys shoved another, and the whole group erupted, their voices echoing far too loud in the stillness of the woods.
The sound sent a chill through Ivy's spine. She looked at the others, her lips tightening. "They shouldn't…" she whispered, her breath fogging. "Not here. Not that loud."
Vera's jaw clenched. She didn't need to explain why—it was instinct, knowledge, the very wrongness of it. Out here, in these mountains, nothing should laugh like that. Nothing should echo so freely.
The group exchanged uneasy glances, then without a word, they picked up their pace. Their steps quickened, boots crunching faster in the snow, as if distance alone could protect them from the carefree noise that didn't belong.
The group's steps faltered on the hill, snow crunching underfoot until silence swallowed them again. Something pulled Vera's eyes back toward the laughter below.
"Wait—" her voice cracked, urgent, panicked. "Look!"
Her hand shot out, trembling as she pointed past the car.
Between the trees, half-shrouded in shadow, a figure shifted. Gaunt, elongated, wrong. The Wendigo's outline flickered like a trick of the light—but its head tilted, jerking, predatory, locking on the oblivious teenagers who still laughed, shoving each other as if the forest belonged to them.
Leo's breath hitched. "Oh… shit."
No one moved. The cold air pressed against them, thick with dread.
Vera's hand hovered near her mouth, her voice barely a whisper. "We can't just… we can't just watch."
"But if we shout—" Mason's jaw tightened. His fists clenched at his sides. "If we make noise, we're dead too."
The group stood caught in a terrible stillness, their pulse loud in their ears. Below, the teenagers laughed louder, their joy hanging like bait in the frozen woods.
Their choices slammed against them: shout and draw the thing's attention—or stay silent and watch the teens be torn apart.
But Ivy wasn't watching anymore. Her eyes darted from the road to the cliff edge at their side. "Hold me," she said suddenly, already lowering herself toward the rocky slope. One hand gripped the mountain edge, knuckles white. Her heels scraped loose dirt as she tried to steady her footing.
"Ivy—what the hell are you doing?" Mason hissed, but she ignored him.
"Vera, hold me tight!" Ivy barked, voice tight with strain.
Vera dropped to her stomach, gripping Ivy's wrist as the woman inched downward. Ivy's eyes scanned the slope until she spotted a jagged boulder wedged precariously beneath them. With careful, deliberate movements, she slid sideways, boots braced against outcroppings. Her body trembled with the weight of the mountain pulling her down.
She planted one foot on a narrow rock, the other steadying against another. Then, with a sharp exhale, she shifted her weight and kicked. The boulder shuddered. She kicked again, harder. A third time—
CRACK!
The stone broke loose, tumbling violently down the cliffside. The sound thundered through the trees as it bounced, splintering branches before smashing against the road below. The teenagers' laughter faltered into shouts of surprise.
"Pull me up!" Ivy gasped.
Vera yanked hard, but Ivy's boots slipped against the loose dirt. Her grip faltered.
"Shit—!" Vera cried, nearly sliding off herself.
Leo didn't think. He lunged forward, grabbing Vera by the boots, anchoring her to the ground. His teeth clenched, his arms burning as her weight dragged him.
"I got you!" he yelled, straining.
Mason rushed in, throwing his arms around Leo's waist and planting his legs. With a raw grunt, he hauled backward, dragging all three of them up in one desperate pull. Ivy collapsed onto the dirt, chest heaving, Vera clutching her arm, Leo rolling onto his back in relief.
They barely had a second to breathe.
From below, the Wendigo shrieked, its voice a tearing, animal howl that echoed against the mountain. The creature, spindly and skeletal, dropped onto all fours and began clawing up the slope with terrifying speed—its eyes fixed on them.
"RUN!" Mason screamed.