Morning came, but the weight in Daniel’s chest remained. He packed his gear quickly, unease lingering inside of him. The fire’s embers were cold, but the night’s events still burned in his mind. He needed to keep moving, put distance between himself and whatever had been there.
Then he saw it—deep claw marks gouged into the trees around his camp. The fresh scrapes gleamed against the bark, sharp and deliberate. His stomach turned. And they hadn’t been there yesterday when he was setting up the camp. This wasn’t random. These were warnings.