CHAPTER SEVEN: THE PATH BETWEEN

They left the cabin just after noon, though the sun barely made a dent in the heavy gray sky. Clouds hung low over the treetops, thick and unmoving, casting the world in a dull, cold light.

Logan pulled his jacket tighter as he walked, every muscle in his body aching from the night before. His legs felt like lead, and beneath his skin, that unfamiliar thrumming still pulsed—a steady vibration, quiet but insistent, like something pacing inside a locked cage.

Juno trudged beside him, wrapped in the emergency blanket like a cloak. Her hair was matted, dark with rain and sweat. She kept her eyes ahead, silent, determined.

Lila led the way, machete in one hand, rifle slung across her back. Every few steps, she paused, head tilted, listening. Logan wondered what she heard that he couldn't.

"How much farther?" he asked, his voice rough with fatigue.

"Four miles," she answered without turning. "Give or take."

The forest thickened around them as they walked. The path narrowed, swallowed by undergrowth, until they were following little more than a deer trail winding between gnarled roots and slick rocks.

The silence was different here. Not peaceful, but expectant.

Logan felt it pressing in on them with every step.

He glanced at Juno. "How you holding up?"

She shrugged, her lips a tight line. "Okay."

"Really?"

"No," she admitted softly. "But I don't want to stop."

He smiled faintly. "Good."

Their boots sank into damp moss, the ground spongy beneath them. Overhead, blackbirds flitted between branches, their wings flashing against the dim light.

Every so often, Logan caught glimpses of movement deeper in the woods—a flicker of shadow between trees, the rustle of leaves without wind.

"We're being followed," Juno murmured.

"I know," Logan said.

"They're waiting," she added.

"For what?"

She didn't answer.

He glanced at Lila, who gave a grim nod. "They've been tracking us since we left the cabin."

"What are they?" Logan asked.

"Not Bloodhowl," she said. "Not exactly."

That didn't make him feel better.

They pressed on.

As the trail steepened, Logan's legs burned with every step. Sweat stung his eyes despite the chill. His breath came ragged, chest tight beneath his jacket.

He paused, leaning against a tree. "We need to rest."

"No," Lila said sharply. "Not here. Too exposed."

"Lila—"

"Half a mile ahead. There's an old shelter. We stop there."

Logan pushed himself upright with a groan. "Fine."

Juno tugged his sleeve gently. "Your hands."

He looked down. His nails had lengthened again—subtle, but there. The skin along his knuckles had thickened, rougher than it should be.

"It's okay," he lied.

She didn't look convinced.

They kept walking.

The shelter wasn't much—just a crumbling stone wall, half-collapsed, with a few rotting beams leaning against it. But it blocked the wind, and that was enough.

Logan slumped onto a flat rock, letting his head fall back against the wall. His heartbeat roared in his ears.

Lila crouched near the entrance, scanning the tree line again. "Fifteen minutes. No more."

Juno sat beside him, curling the blanket tighter. "Are you scared?" she asked quietly.

He thought about lying. Then shook his head. "Yeah."

"Me too."

They sat in silence for a long moment, listening to the forest breathe around them.

Logan felt the pull again—a deep ache, somewhere beneath his ribs. Hunger. But not for food.

He rubbed his face roughly, trying to shake it off. "When we get to this sanctuary… it's really safe?"

"It's safer," Lila said from the doorway. "Nothing's truly safe."

He exhaled, closing his eyes. "Story of my life."

When they started moving again, the sky had darkened, the light fading fast. The trees leaned closer, their branches knitting together overhead until only slivers of sky remained.

Logan felt it then, more clearly: the watchers. Closer now. Matching their pace. Never showing themselves, but never leaving.

"Why aren't they attacking?" he asked.

"Because you're not ready yet," Lila said grimly.

He frowned. "Ready for what?"

She didn't answer.

The last stretch of the path wound uphill, rocky and narrow. Every step felt harder. His bones ached. His skin itched, tight over swelling muscles.

Juno stumbled. Logan caught her, steadying her with an arm around her shoulders.

"Almost there," he promised. "Just a little more."

At the ridge's crest, the sanctuary came into view.

It wasn't what he expected.

Not a building, but a ruin—a broken ring of stone pillars, half-swallowed by earth and vines. Symbols carved into the stones glimmered faintly in the fading light. A shallow pool shimmered in the center, reflecting the last pale sky.

But there was something else.

A weight in the air. A pressure, low and thrumming, like the hum of distant thunder.

Juno stopped dead. "I can't."

Logan looked down at her. "What?"

"I can't go in."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"The wards… they won't let me."

Lila's expression darkened. "She's marked."

"By what?" Logan demanded.

"The Hollow," Lila said quietly. "By whatever took her. It left something inside her. The sanctuary knows."

Logan's stomach twisted. "Then how do we get her in?"

"There's a ritual. I'll need an hour."

"We don't have an hour," Logan growled.

"We don't have a choice," Lila snapped. "Unless you want to leave her out here."

He stared at the sanctuary's boundary, feeling the invisible wall pressing back against him. The watchers pressed closer now. He could feel them just beyond the tree line.

Waiting.

The pulse beneath his skin beat louder. His hands trembled.

"Logan?" Juno's voice was small. "It's starting again."

He looked at her—and saw the faint glow behind her eyes.

"No," he whispered. "Not yet."

Lila drew a circle in the dirt with the machete's point, muttering under her breath. "Keep her inside the circle. No matter what happens."

"What about me?" Logan asked.

"You're not going inside," Lila said grimly.

The shadows deepened around them. The forest exhaled.

Somewhere in the dark, a howl rose.

Not a wolf.

Not human.

Something older.

Logan felt his teeth ache. His bones groaned beneath his skin.

He stepped into the circle beside Juno, gripping her hand tight.

"Stay with me," he told her.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"Me too."

The first claw scraped against the circle's edge. Sparks flared where it touched the line.

Juno flinched. Logan bared his teeth, half-growl, half-smile.

"Come on, then," he muttered.

The sanctuary shimmered beyond the boundary, a promise just out of reach.

And somewhere inside him, the thing that had been sleeping stretched, awake and watching.

Waiting.