Chapter 52
Elara's POV
The camp settled into evening routines. People unpacked sleeping bags. Set up tents in neat rows.
I stood near our assigned tent, rolling my right shoulder slowly. Testing the damage.
Pain flared immediately. Sharp. Deep. The tree root had left its mark—a bruise I could already feel spreading across my shoulder blade. My palms were scraped raw, dirt still embedded in some of the cuts. Every time I gripped something, the torn skin pulled and stung.
The dizziness from the drugged water had mostly faded. But my legs still felt unreliable. Loose. Like they might give out if I moved too fast.
I forced myself to breathe normally. To look like I was fine.
Sophia sat alone near the supply tent. Staring at nothing.
She hadn't spoken since the cliff incident. Hadn't joined the chatter about dinner plans or tomorrow's activities.
Just sat there. Still. Silent.
Her hands rested in her lap. But I could see the tension in her shoulders. The way her jaw clenched every few seconds.
This wasn't relief that I'd survived.
This was fury that I hadn't fallen.
I turned away. Found Chloe organizing our gear near the tent we'd been assigned.
"She's freaking me out," Chloe whispered. Glanced toward Sophia. "She's been like that for an hour."
"Let her sulk."
"That's not sulking. That's plotting."
Probably.
I knelt down. Helped Chloe sort through the equipment bags.
Across the clearing, Warren stood at the edge of camp. Writing in that damn notebook again.
I'd been watching him all day. Noticed the pattern.
He wasn't recording archery scores. Wasn't tracking who carried what weight or who finished the hike first.
His eyes kept moving. Scanning the students. Then the forest. Back to students. Back to forest.
And he wrote constantly. Quick notes. Precise observations.
This wasn't normal coach behavior.
"What's he doing?" Chloe followed my gaze.
"I don't know."
But I didn't like it.
Warren's attention lingered on me for several seconds. Then shifted back to his notebook.
He was assessing something. Someone.
The question was why.
"Listen up!" The archery club president—a senior named James—clapped his hands. "We're doing campfire cooking tonight. Need volunteers to gather firewood."
Half the group jumped up immediately. Excited chatter filled the air.
Sophia stood slowly. Brushed dirt from her jeans.
Blythe appeared at her side. Touched her elbow. Said something I couldn't hear.
She nodded. They headed toward the forest with a group of six others.
"Should we go?" Chloe asked.
I watched Sophia disappear into the trees.
"No. Let's stay here. Help with food prep."
"Really?" Chloe looked surprised. "You hate cooking."
"I hate being alone in the forest with Sophia more."
Chloe's expression shifted. Understanding. "Oh. Yeah. Good call."
We moved to the cooking area. Started washing vegetables in a bucket of filtered water.
The sky darkened. First stars appeared between the trees.
My phone buzzed.
I pulled it out carefully. Checked the screen.
Encrypted message from Vivian.
Any progress with the wolf situation? Dad's worried.
I dried my hands on my jeans. Typed back quickly.
Found the camp. They're refugees. Not a threat. Real enemy is hiding.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Kael hasn't found anything either. Whoever's behind this is careful.
Tell your dad to stay alert. We're still looking.
He will. Thanks Elara.
The worry in her words was obvious even through text.
I pocketed the phone. Went back to chopping carrots.
"Everything okay?" Chloe asked.
"Family stuff."
She didn't push.
---
Twenty minutes later, the firewood crew returned. Arms full of branches and kindling.
People started building the fire. Laughing. Joking about who was the worst at outdoor skills.
Warren didn't join in.
He stayed at the far edge of camp. Notebook still in hand.
His gaze swept the forest line. Paused. Moved on.
What was he looking for?
I chopped vegetables harder than necessary. Tried to focus on the task.
But my instincts screamed that something was wrong.
Warren wasn't just a coach doing his job.
He was watching. Waiting.
For what?
By eight o'clock, the fire blazed high. Orange flames crackled and popped.
Someone had strung up battery-powered lanterns between the trees. Soft light pooled across the campsite.
We sat in a rough circle around the fire. Plates of grilled vegetables and sandwiches balanced on our laps.
The mood was relaxed. Easy.
James stood up. Grinned. "Alright people. Time for campfire stories. Who's going first?"
"Me!" Chloe bounced to her feet.
I smiled despite myself. She looked genuinely excited.
"Okay so this happened last month in bio class," Chloe started. Her voice animated. "There's this guy—Derek—total germaphobe, right? Won't touch anything without hand sanitizer."
People leaned in. Interested.
"So we're doing frog dissections. And Derek's partner accidentally knocks their specimen onto the floor. Derek freaks out. Jumps onto the table to get away from it."
Laughter rippled through the group.
"But here's the thing—the frog was already dead and preserved. It wasn't going to do anything. But Derek's screaming like it's chasing him. And when he jumps on the table, he steps on the formaldehyde jar."
Chloe paused for effect.
"The jar tips over. Spills everywhere. The whole classroom reeks for a week. They had to cancel classes in that room for three days to air it out."
Everyone cracked up. Even I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped.
Chloe sat down. Beaming.
"Nice one," I said quietly.
She bumped my shoulder. "Your turn next."
My stomach tightened.
No. Not my turn.
"Actually," Sophia's voice cut through the chatter. "I'll go."
She stood gracefully. Firelight played across her face.
"I have a good one. Perfect for a forest campfire."
The group quieted. Waiting.
Sophia's smile was sweet. Innocent.
But her eyes were cold.
"A hundred years ago," she began, voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, "there was a hunter who lived near these woods. He specialized in catching wolves."
My spine straightened.
"He'd set traps all through the forest. Silver-toothed traps that would snap shut on anything that stepped wrong. And when he caught a wolf, he wouldn't just kill it."
Sophia paused. Let the tension build.
"He'd skin it alive. Preserve the pelt. Mount it in his cabin like a trophy. They say he collected over a dozen wolf skins that way."
Several people shifted uncomfortably.
"But one night, the hunter disappeared. Just vanished. Search parties found his cabin destroyed. Blood everywhere. His precious trophies torn to shreds."
Sophia's voice rose slightly.
"Some say the wolves came for revenge. That they tracked him down and ripped him apart piece by piece. And if you listen carefully on quiet nights in these woods—"
She suddenly raised her voice.
"—you can still hear him screaming!"
Three girls shrieked. Jumped.
Nervous laughter followed.
Sophia sat down. Looking pleased with herself.
Blythe leaned forward immediately. "That was intense, Soph." His voice carried across the circle. Loud enough for everyone to hear. "Way better than those generic ghost stories."
He looked around at the group. Made eye contact with several people.
"I mean, it's true, right? These woods have history. Real history. Not just made-up campfire tales."
His gaze landed on me for a fraction of a second. Then moved on.
"Makes you think about what's really out there. Watching. Waiting."
A few people shifted uncomfortably.
Sophia's smile widened. She reached over and squeezed Blythe's hand.
The message was clear. They were united. A team.
And I was the outsider.
The fire crackled. Someone added more wood.
Marcus looked around the circle. His gaze landed on me.
"Elara. You're up."
My throat went dry.
Everyone turned to look at me.
I felt their eyes. Their expectation.
I didn't want this attention. Didn't want to stand up and perform.
Every time I opened my mouth lately, I revealed something I shouldn't.
"Come on," James encouraged. "Give us something good."
I stayed seated. Mind racing.
What could I say? What story wouldn't expose more of Lynette's memories?
Sophia's voice drifted across the circle. Syrupy sweet.
"What's wrong, Elara? Don't tell me you can't think of anything."
She tilted her head. Smile sharp.
"Or maybe you just don't have anything interesting to share?"
The challenge was clear.
Chloe tensed beside me.
I looked at Sophia. At her false concern. Her barely concealed malice.
At the way she wanted me to back down. To look weak in front of everyone.
I took a slow breath.
Fine.
If she wanted a story, I'd give her one.
I stood up. Felt the weight of thirty pairs of eyes.
My mind went blank for a second.
Then I decided.
I'd make something up. Something generic. Something that wouldn't matter.
Just get through this and sit back down.