Whispers in the Pines
The wind clawed at Mara’s coat as she stepped off the rusted bus, its engine sputtering like a dying animal. The air smelled of pine resin and something older—decaying wood, maybe, or the faint tang of blood. She hadn’t been…
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Whispers in the Pines
The morning air smelled of pine resin and damp earth as Mara stepped off the rusted bus, her boots crunching on gravel. The town of Black Hollow lay sprawled below, its rooftops bleached by sun and time. She hadn’t returned…