The fire was nearly extinguished, reduced to hot charcoal with a faint hiss of smoke where stray water had splashed into the embers. A thin stream danced above it like a ghost in retreat.
Only one person remained awake.
Mr. Harrison hunched near the dying fire pit, his arms wrapped around his knees, his eyes sunken from sleep and deep thought. He wasn't sure how long he had been staring at the glowing ash—until, without realizing it, his eyelids grew heavy, and darkness slowly enveloped him.
He didn't notice the mist.
Thin, pale, and unnatural, it slithered in, quiet and deliberate, threading itself through the tents and around the sleeping forms of students and teachers. As it thickened, it brought with it shadows—faint outlines like fractured silhouettes. They lingered… then vanished before the morning touched the horizon.
By the time the first birds chirped, the camp appeared unchanged.
But something was not right.
---
The second day began like any other. Students yawned, stretched, and stumbled out of their tents. Mrs. Marlowe, always composed and graceful, gathered everyone near the center. Her voice rang out with calm authority, assisted by Coach Lin, who read from a map with dramatic flair.
"Today," she announced, "we'll be exploring the smaller trails around Willow's boundary. Look, listen, and observe. Nature is your classroom—treat it with respect."
Students shuffled to grab their gear and notepads, some visibly excited, while others dragged their feet as if they were marching to their doom.
Noah stood near the washing station, brushing his teeth in the mechanical rhythm of someone whose mind was elsewhere. Foam dripped from his mouth as he stared blankly ahead.
Something felt off. Something was… missing. But he couldn't quite place it.
He rinsed, spat, and gathered his belongings. As he turned toward the group, his thoughts were interrupted by someone far too cheerful for this early hour.
A hand grabbed his wrist.
"Noah!"
He blinked.
It was Lumi, beaming as she tilted her head playfully.
"You didn't answer me yesterday," she said, linking her arm through his. "What are you doing after the outdoor session?"
Noah opened his mouth—but his gaze had already shifted toward Ezra, who was walking away, absorbed in conversation with the other girls. She didn't even glance back.
"Planning to… look around," he muttered.
"Great!" Lumi chirped. "Let's do it together then!"
Noah gave her a weak smile, but inside, his thoughts screamed.
Why now? Why her?
He couldn't show anyone the journal—not with her around. He had already caught a glimpse of the pink ball of fur again near the brush that morning. But with Lumi by his side, glued to his every movement, there was no chance for a proper investigation.
The journal was tucked tightly into his jacket, humming faintly against his chest as if it had its own breath. But he couldn't open it in public. He knew too well—questions would come, questions he didn't want to answer.
"Not yet," he thought.
"Not here."
As Lumi dragged him toward the gathering crowd, Noah cast one last glance over his shoulder.
The camp sat quietly behind them.
The last tendrils of smoke from the fire pit curled upward…
…then vanished completely into the rising mist.