Chapter 1: Into the Cold

  The cabin squatted at the forest’s edge, its weathered logs glistening with frost, a frail bulwark against the sprawling dark. Rusted solar panels clung to the roof, glinting faintly under a sky bleeding into dusk. The air bit with a resinous chill, pine needles snapping underfoot like brittle bones, the scent of damp earth heavy and sour. A Jeep rumbled to a halt, gravel crunching beneath its tires, and Dan spilled out first—twenties, hoodie faded, beer in hand, his breath fogging as he grinned into the cold. Maya followed, leather jacket creaking, her southern drawl slicing the stillness as she hauled a cooler, dust swirling around her boots. Caleb, flannel tight over broad shoulders, scanned the trees with haunted eyes, his knife a silver gleam at his hip. Priya hesitated by the Jeep, her oversized sweater drowning her frame, scarf twisting in nervous fingers. Sarah, denim-clad and quiet, slung a backpack over one shoulder, her smile a flicker in the gloom. Jake, East Coast swagger in a tilted cap, hooked up a Bluetooth speaker, The National’s mournful chords spilling into the twilight like a lament.

  “Here’s to epic fuck-ups and epic nights,” Dan said, hoisting his beer. Laughter broke from the group, sharp and fleeting, swallowed by the forest’s gaping silence as they unloaded their bags.

  “Yo, no bars, no Insta,” Jake said, frowning at his phone. “We’re in a damn slasher flick, fam.”

  “Long as I’m the final girl, y’all, I’m good,” Maya shot back, her grin a blade’s edge as she adjusted the cooler.

  Caleb’s gaze lingered on the trees, voice a low murmur. “Too quiet. Feels wrong.”

  “Just trees, Caleb. Please, relax,” Priya said, her Indian-British accent clipped, her fingers tightening on her scarf.

  Dan clapped Caleb’s back, forcing a laugh. “Chill, man. It’s just us and the woods.” They trudged toward the cabin, boots cracking the frozen ground, the forest looming like a held breath.

  Inside, the air hung thick with mildew and rot, the walls sagging under bare beams, LED lights flickering like a failing pulse. Crooked photos of strangers stared from the shadows, their eyes tracking the group as they dumped bags on a scarred table. Outside, Maya sparked the grill, grease hissing against the cold, smoke curling into the gray. Dan chopped onions, the knife’s rhythmic thwack a counterpoint to his sidelong glances at Priya, who stood by a fogged window, staring into the mist, scarf still twisting in her hands. Sarah set plates, dodging Jake’s flirty smirk with a shy giggle. Caleb sharpened his knife, jaw tight, the blade’s edge catching the light like a warning.

  “Yo, Maya, you burnin’ those burgers yet?” Dan called, voice light but eyes uneasy.

  “Keep talkin’, Dan, and you’re eatin’ ash, sugar,” Maya replied, tossing a mock glare over her shoulder.

  “Goddess of char, yo,” Jake said, leaning back with a grin.

  Laughter flared, brittle and brief, fading into the cabin’s damp hush. Priya’s smile was thin, forced, and Dan stepped closer, voice dropping. “P, you okay? You’ve been off since we left.”

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  “Just tired,” she said, eyes fixed on the window, voice a distant thread. “The drive was long.”

  Dan nodded, unconvinced, his gut twisting as the grill’s smoke bled into the dusk, the forest pressing closer.

  By nightfall, they sprawled on the patio, pine needles carpeting the ground like a shroud. The grill’s heat battled the creeping chill, a wobbly table littered with beers and trays. Bottles clinked in the dark, Maya driving the chatter, Caleb brooding, his knife never far. Sarah’s soft laughs barely pierced the wind’s low moan.

  “Alright, y’all, best cabin story. Hit me,” Maya said, leaning in, eyes alight.

  “Pass,” Caleb muttered, staring into his beer, grief a weight he couldn’t shake.

  “Don’t be a buzzkill, man. Spill somethin’,” Jake said, nudging him with a grin.

  “Ease up, Jake,” Sarah said, voice gentle, her glance softening Caleb’s edges.

  Dan raised his beer, cutting the tension. “To survivin’ Maya’s grill skills.”

  Laughter sparked, then died, the forest swallowing it whole. The sun sank, shadows stretching like claws from the trees. Plates stacked, Dan tossed an empty bottle into the cooler. “Fire time, y’all,” he said, leading them to a clearing where the campfire waited, flames gnashing at the dark.

  The fire snapped, casting jagged light on twisted trunks, the wind carrying a faint rot that prickled their noses. Phoebe Bridgers’ voice drifted from Jake’s speaker, her melancholy threading the night like a specter. They huddled on logs, blankets and beers scattered, firelight dancing in their eyes. Dan watched Priya, curled tight, her face a mask of distance, her thoughts adrift.

  “Ghost story time. Who’s got balls?” Jake said, grin wide, blind to the unease.

  “Not me,” Caleb said, voice heavy, firelight etching the pain in his face. “My brother loved this shit. Been gone a few weeks.”

  Silence crashed down, thick and cold. Dan touched Caleb’s arm, voice soft. “To him, bro.”

  They drank, the beer sour on their tongues. Priya spoke, accent sharp, words measured. “My grandmother’s village had a ghost. A woman, crying for her child. I heard her once. It chilled me to the bone.”

  “Weak, darlin’,” Maya said, smirking. “My turn. Serial killer in woods like these. Chops heads, keeps ‘em as decor.”

  “That’s just your Tinder bio, Maya,” Jake said, winking.

  Laughter cracked the tension, but it was frail, the forest’s hush pressing in. Sarah hesitated, voice trembling. “Saw a shadow as a kid. Always in mirrors. Still gives me chills.”

  Dan grinned, leaning in. “My uncle, God rest him, said my great-grandma never aged. Lived alone, all mysterious. Aunt swore she ‘fed on people.’ Tied to some chick named Mary. Family curse or some shit.”

  “Yo, sugar mommy vamp? Drainin’ her boy toys in bed?” Jake said, laughing.

  “Bet she ate ‘em raw. Kinky as hell,” Maya added, eyes gleaming.

  Priya laughed, but it was hollow. “Not so wild,” she said, voice turning grave. “Grimoires I’ve read—witch books—speak of blood curses. Creatures that live on blood. It could be real.”

  “Sabrina’s in the house, yo!” Jake said, grinning.

  “Movie bullshit, Priya,” Caleb muttered, voice flat.

  Dan chuckled, but Priya’s eyes flicked to the woods, her breath hitching. A sharp crack split the night, like a branch snapping under weight. They froze, laughter dying, the fire’s glow suddenly frail.

  “Just a deer, y’all. We’re good,” Dan said, voice strained.

  “I’m scopin’ it,” Maya said, standing, hand on hip.

  “Bad move,” Caleb said, knife glinting.

  “Chill, Maya. Save the heroics for dawn,” Dan said, rising, his tone light but eyes sharp.

  Priya nodded, hands trembling. Sarah shivered, jacket pulled tight. Jake winked, defusing nothing. “If it’s a ghost, I’m ghostin’, fam.”

  The fire dimmed, wind howling like a threat. Dan led them back, the forest swallowing their steps, the dark tightening its grip.