"Beautiful, isn't it?" Perry murmured, stepping beside her. "But too quiet for my taste."
Emily's eyes flicked to him. "Exactly. Something's off."
They joined the other students at the fire pit. The camp leaders were already handing out schedules for the evening hike. Emily listened politely, nodding when necessary, all while keeping her senses sharp. She could spot weaknesses, potential threats, and even the safest exits if anything went wrong.
By sunset, most of the students had gathered around the fire, roasting marshmallows and telling stories. Clara, as always, was surrounded by admirers, laughing and effortlessly charming everyone around her. Emily's chest tightened for a moment, but she shoved the feeling aside. This wasn't the time to dwell on personal grudges. Right now, survival came first.
The night hike was scheduled for later, and the students had been warned to stay in pairs or small groups. Emily paired with Perry, the silent agreement between them unnecessary. They moved through the darkening forest, headlamps cutting narrow beams through the shadows. Every step Emily took was deliberate, each movement precise. Her training—years of mercenary and assassin discipline—kept her aware of the smallest details: broken branches, subtle shifts in the wind, faint footprints that didn't belong.
"You sense it too," Perry said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Emily didn't reply, only nodded slightly. The crunch of their boots on the forest floor was louder than usual. Something, or someone, was moving alongside them—but not like any animal she knew.
The first sign came when a scream pierced the night. It was shrill, sudden, and panicked, coming from the group a few meters ahead. Emily's heart rate didn't spike—her training kept her calm—but her body tensed immediately.
"Stay close," she murmured to Perry. "Don't let anyone stray."
They sprinted toward the sound, ducking under low branches, Emily's instincts guiding her path. When they arrived, a group of students had gathered around a classmate who had fallen into a shallow pit hidden beneath loose leaves. The girl's ankle was twisted badly, blood beginning to seep through the torn sock.
Emily dropped to her knees, inspecting the injury with rapid precision. "It's not broken, just a severe sprain. We need to stabilize it before moving her."
While other students panicked, she pulled out a first-aid kit from her backpack—a habit she had adopted long before this trip—and began working swiftly. Perry helped, holding the girl steady and keeping the crowd back. Within minutes, the ankle was wrapped and immobilized, making it possible to carry her back to the campsite.
But Emily's attention never left the trees. The feeling of being watched hadn't gone away; if anything, it had intensified.
The rest of the afternoon passed with typical camping preparations. Students gathered firewood, laughed as they tried to start a campfire, and Clara, predictably, made a scene showing off her supposed skills, drawing her fiancé and other admirers' attention. Emily's chest tightened briefly, but she shoved the emotion aside. This trip wasn't about personal grudges—it was about survival and observation.
By late afternoon, the tents were fully set up, the fire pit ready, and the students were exhausted but excited for the evening. Emily helped a few struggling classmates with their tents, all the while keeping an eye on the woods. Every snapping twig, every subtle shift in shadow, registered in her mind.