One eventful night, Daniel sat in his tent, his breath curling in the frigid air, eyes scanning the endless dark through the small window. The howling wind had died down, leaving only the eerie quiet of the forest. It felt as if the mountain itself was holding its breath.
Then came the sound. Not the groan of shifting trees or the whisper of wind through the pines—but something deeper, heavier. A breath. Slow, cautious, just beyond the reach of the firelight. Daniel stiffened, gripping the handle of his knife. Something was out there, and it was watching him.