"I think we should keep moving," Zoey said, standing up and brushing off her legs. "Rose and Grace have been gone too long."
The group followed the stream upward, the woods tightening around them as the slope grew steeper. Jude led, his hand on the hilt of the makeshift blade he carried now everywhere. The trees grew gnarled and twisted, their trunks scarred with strange markings, some like symbols, some like claws. None of it was comforting.
They reached the top of a rise where the stream cascaded down a sudden drop. Water splashed over the rocks and fell into a dark pool below. There was no sign of Rose or Grace.
Then Zoey gasped.
Near the edge of the cliff, where moss grew in thick green blankets, a trail of wet footprints shimmered. Small, bare feet. Leading off the edge.
"Rose?" Sophie called out, voice cracking slightly.
No response.