Whispers Beneath the Canopy
Tim’s gaze drifted to the ground beneath the tree, where odd marks marred the earth. They weren’t from any animal he knew—no paw prints, claw marks, or irregular, almost unnatural impressions. A cold shiver ran through him. “Could there be predators?” he thought, his mind racing. But the silence around him was too still, too deep. No birds. No rustling. Just a quiet that felt heavier than it should.
The park ranger crouched down, inspecting the strange spots closer. Something was wrong. Whatever had made those marks wasn’t something he had ever encountered in his years of tracking and patrolling. And it was getting closer.
