I’ve been camping for the past week with a few of my friends. We’re in a nice, secluded campground on the side of a mountain, filled with forests and a few remote lakes.
“There be the other ones out there.”
I heard it then. Crunching of boots on broken glass. There was someone out there, walking around my car. Why hadn’t they tried to help us? What were they doing?
I pulled out my phone and flipped the flashlight on—and oh, God. They weren’t dogs. They were never dogs. They were the size of dogs, but they weren’t dogs.