The Shadow in the Valley
Sun rose slowly into morning, bleeding golden light across jagged peaks. On the ridges, mist clung to crags before reluctantly yielding to warmth, rolling down like pallid smoke into the deep valley below. The world lay still, too still—a virgin wilderness poised between beauty and terror.
Above, a single bird sliced through the skies, its wings wide and unyielding as it surfed the winds. Its shriek rang out, shrill and coarse, ripping through the silence. The call traveled for miles, but only strengthened the stillness that came after.
Down in the valley, there was unnatural stillness. No wind shook the leaves of the thin trees. No buzzing insect broke the air. But underneath that stillness, a sound began to build—first far away, a muffled, beating rhythm against rock.
The rhythm became louder.
Hooves.
A hundred, a thousand, then more.
