No one really slept. Not deeply. The younger ones curled up like stray cats near the fire's flicker, drifting in and out of uneasy half-dreams where the wind sounded like footsteps and the cracking underbrush snapped them awake again.
Rafi didn't even bother lying down. He sat cross-legged near the counselor's feet, one hand resting on the bundle of blankets in case the man started seizing or choking. Every few minutes, he twisted to check the darkness beyond the flames. Every time he did, it looked different: branches that hadn't been there before, shadows pooling like spilled ink where the light ran out.
The fire burned through the driest wood too fast. Sparks shot up, hissed away into blackness. Someone needed to feed it constantly. When the girl with the braid nodded off beside him, her stick still clutched in her palm, Rafi took it and shoved more branches into the coals.
He caught himself shivering. Not just from the cold, though it was cold enough to bite under his sleeves. It was the hush that unsettled him more — how the usual night sounds of insects and owls had vanished, like the forest was holding its breath.
Behind him, the counselor stirred. A soft moan, like he was fighting off a nightmare that didn't care if he was awake or not.
Rafi leaned closer, hoping for real words. He smelled the sourness of fever, saw sweat beading along the man's hairline despite the chill. The counselor's eyelids fluttered. A rasp scraped from cracked lips — too soft to catch at first, then clearer as Rafi bent until his ear nearly brushed the man's mouth.
"Not safe here…" The whisper fractured into a cough that rattled his chest. "It follows… roots in deep… can't burn it…"
Rafi pressed the edge of a canteen to his mouth, but most of the water dribbled back down his stubbled chin. He tried anyway. He asked what it was, begged him to stay awake. But the counselor's eyes rolled back again, lost behind lids that twitched with dreams that weren't dreams at all.
Something rustled at the treeline. Not far — no more than ten paces beyond the circle of light.
Rafi froze. He strained to see past the flame's glare, but the dark seemed to thicken and push back at his stare. He heard it then — soft, dragging steps. Not the skitter of a raccoon, or the hoot of an owl swooping low. He knew how those sounded. This was slower. Heavier. Careful.
He grabbed a half-burned branch from the fire, the end glowing red and spitting sparks. He stood, forcing his legs not to tremble. Behind him, one of the older boys stirred and sat up, squinting at the shape of him holding the makeshift torch.
The steps stopped. Nothing moved. Just the smell of scorched pine sap and sweat in Rafi's nose.
Then the brush parted. Not enough to reveal what waited there — only enough for the cold to breathe across his face, prickling the sweat on his neck. A glimmer of something wet caught the light — an eye? A tooth? He couldn't be sure.
Rafi thrust the burning branch forward, sending a scatter of sparks into the black. A hiss answered him, soft but sharp enough to slice the quiet in half. Branches snapped. Something backed away — or slithered, or crawled. He couldn't tell. He only knew it didn't flee far.
He forced himself to breathe. To stand taller so the others wouldn't see his knees threaten to buckle. He jammed the branch back into the fire, stirring it up into a blaze that clawed higher than before. He ordered two kids to get more wood, dry if they could, and not to wander past the circle of stones.
All around them, the darkness settled back down like a patient predator curling up just outside reach. Watching. Waiting.
Rafi knelt beside the counselor again, pressing a hand to his forehead. Burning. Burning like kindling under a spark.
The girl with the braid woke fully now. She didn't ask questions — just took a stick and fed the flames, eyes locked on the trees where the shadows breathed.
Rafi whispered to himself that they would hold the line until dawn. If the forest wanted to come closer, it would have to step through fire to take them.
Behind him, the counselor murmured broken phrases that made no sense. Roots. Teeth. Don't look too long.
Rafi didn't want to look at all. But he didn't have the choice anymore.
He stared into the black beyond the flames — and the black stared back.