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As soon as she was out of Michael’s sight, Steph radioed Kelvin. It was not on the hour mark, but she was sure current circumstances trumped that.

“And he just left?”

Kelvin asked, his voice rising slightly.

“He said it made more sense to get to the house to try and bring everything under control.”

“I suppose I can see the logic,”

he said, his voice calming a little. That reply did not surprise Steph.

“Are any of the tracks… Martina’s?… Hello?”

Steph looked down. One of the sets of shoes was definitely smaller than the others. She had no idea what Martina had on her feet, but the size alone suggested these were likely women’s prints.

“Hello?”

Steph stood up and counted to six. She enjoyed listening to the slight panic in Kelvin’s voice on the other end. Something she controlled and not him. She had no intention of trying to play with him as a means of being vindictive, it was more to test him. She had not known any of these people long, and given the current circumstances, she thought it was likely important she knew what kind of people she was dealing with. A little forced openness was always useful. How strong was the bond between Martina and Kelvin? Besides, if she got out of all this it would likely make an interesting side-story. One she could sell well beyond her usual market of conspiracy theorists and dreamers. This was real drama. Screw being worried about earning respect in her professional field. She would gain the respect of her parents by demonstrating financial achievement.

“Hello!”

“Sorry, I was just looking at the prints. I think so.”

“You think so?”

“I think Martina was here. One set of prints is smaller than the others. One of the people is injured though. Martina and one other seem to be helping them.”

“Right.”

Right? Was that all he could respond with?

“Well, let me know when you find them!”

With that the exchange was over. A curtain opening and closing almost in the same movement. Steph slowly stored the radio away in an inside pocket and zipped up Thomas’s jacket. She wasn’t even sure whether she would find the others. She wasn’t certain what she was doing. Her training had only been in following and documenting animals at her own pace, not tracking other people whilst desperation raged in both parties. Even so, she walked on.

At first Steph found it easier than expected. The small group had left numerous footprints in the saturated mud between the trees. Things got a little harder when the trees gave way to open space where long grass lessened the indentations in the ground. She paused for a while. The grass seemed to be broken in a couple of places; shallow grassy trenches where someone or something had been. The problem was, there were quite a few. Animals definitely passed through and some clearly had their preferred routes.

As she stood there, she suddenly realised how cold she was. She was uncomfortable. Water was finding ways to seep into crevasses in the jacket and she felt sweat cooling on her body.

She shone her torch at the grass again. Two of the routes seemed to have grass which curled over at the top slightly. She huffed rain away from her lips, dipped her head and took the route which seemed larger.

This proved to be, at the very least, not a disastrous choice. She was able to make it through the open space without encountering anything unsavoury. Even the rain felt like it was easing slightly – a good omen. She wasn’t sure she actually believed in omens, but in her current situation she was willing to use whatever placebo was necessary.

She climbed a small ridge leading to another treeline. She stopped. She shone her torch left and right. Nothing! She cursed under her breath. She walked along the tree line looking desperately for any sign of the footprints. The soil was soft and more exposed, no longer protected by grass and heath vegetation. Even so, she could see no prints. Well, no human prints. There were prints of two other animals: wild boar and, if she was not mistaken, badger.

Why had she come this way? Had she really thought that she would track them down? Did she really think that she was that skilled? No. No, that was unfair on herself. She had made her decision based on the assumption that she was doing what was right, not necessarily what was easy. Besides, she had presumed they wouldn’t have gotten very far, not with an injured person.

She shook her head and ploughed into the trees. Better onwards than static indecision.

The trees intensified the darkness once more. Out of curiosity she turned off her light and tried to continue walking. Something to shake things up. Her world became pitch darkness. People said that if you lost one sense, your others became heightened. She decided to test this idea and took a few tentative steps, felt her foot catch under a tree root and stumbled forward, barely preventing herself from falling. For a moment she just stood and listened into the night. Once again, she became acutely aware of how heavy her own breathing was. There were a lot of other noises. Were they all caused by the rain? It was logical to suggest the majority were. But all of them?

She decided that the only sense that was being heightened was her sense of fear. She turned the torch on again. No sooner had she turned it on, than she heard a stick’s snapping echo ring through the trees towards her.

She jerked the beam of light in the direction of the noise. Movement. The torch was not powerful enough to discern with any clarity the shape of the movement, but there was definitely something large advancing towards her. She stood still, becoming aware of the movement’s deep guttural breaths. Why was she stood still? Why weren’t her feet moving?

As if her limbs had finally caught up with the lag in her head, she turned and ran. It was difficult as she had to look down at where the torch shone in case she tripped over an errant root. She could hear leaves being brushed aside behind her, twigs snapping and the wet ground being pounded by something heavy. Running wasn’t even sensible, was it? There was nothing that she could outrun. Yet, what else could she do?

She leapt over a fallen tree, miraculously kept her footing and took a sharp left hoping agility might save her. Foolish. On the wet ground, her feet went completely from underneath her, and she fell with a sickening slap. Her hands glided through the soft forest floor. Cold wetness instantly breaching her khaki trousers.

Thousands of thoughts crossed her mind in the brief seconds that followed. Was she going to die? How would she die, exactly? Could she grab the knife and fight off the creature? What was chasing her?

All these thoughts, each equally short and therefore almost incoherent in her mind, flashed through. There was a flash of light and a loud bang. Before she had time to reach for the knife and at least roll over to face her attacker, it was on her. She felt its warm weight on her legs. One giant mass, crushing her limbs, its hot breath contrasting with the cold damp air. Another loud bang. Another. The breathing stopped.