Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The road unfurled before him in a long, sun-bleached ribbon, cutting through the dry sweep of rural Texas like someone had sliced the world open and left it to bake. Jeremy leaned forward in his seat, one hand loose on the steering wheel, the other resting against the open window, fingers splayed in the rushing air. The radio buzzed softly under the hum of his tires on cracked pavement, a low rhythm of static and country music bleeding into the quiet hum of his thoughts.

He didn’t know where he was headed. Not really. Just somewhere that wasn’t where he’d been.

The towns he passed were small—sometimes just a gas station and a single blinking light at a crossroads. Others were empty altogether, remnants of something that used to be, now sunken into the landscape like forgotten bones. Jeremy slowed through each of them, more out of respect than necessity, wondering who had lived there, who had left, and who had stayed behind and turned to dust.

Back home, everything had felt too heavy. College was over, a celebration that had tasted like ash on his tongue. His mother couldn't hide her disappointment in him and h he could feel her growing agitation every time he said "I don’t know yet." About jobs. About plans. About life.

The truth was, Jeremy didn’t want a career right now. He didn’t want fluorescent lights and clock-in cards and bland office chatter. He wanted to feel something. To stumble into something that would catch his soul like lightning in a bottle. A story. A reason. A sign.

His car had become a cocoon of motion and static. He lived out of it now, unpacking and repacking every morning with the slow routine of someone pretending it wasn’t chaos. Fast food wrappers in the back seat. A pair of sneakers that were toeing the line of acceptable to waer. A camera he hadn’t used in weeks. And silence—so much silence, even with the radio on.

But it wasn’t all bad. There were moments when he’d catch a view that hit just right—a field rolling out toward the horizon, a hawk circling in the sky, the sun breaking through clouds like a promise—and for a moment, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Untethered, yes. But maybe that wasn’t the same thing as lost.

He turned the volume up, let the breeze ruffle his hair, and tapped his fingers against the wheel. The heat pressed in from every angle, shimmering off the road in waves, but he welcomed it. It kept him present.

Then the dashboard light blinked.

Jeremy’s eyes flicked down. Temperature rising. Fast.

"No, no, no," he muttered, coasting toward the shoulder as smoke hissed from under the hood. He threw the car into park, popped the latch, and stepped out into the furnace-like heat. The engine groaned beneath the metal, steam rising like the last gasp of something dying.

He stood there, hands on hips, sweat already sliding down his spine, and laughed—soft, a little wild. Because of course this would happen. In the middle of nowhere. With no plan.

He looked down the road. Nothing but heat waves and silence.

Jeremy sighed and sat back in the driver’s seat. He reached over and took the well-worn map from the passenger seat and flipped it open. He managed to find his road and used his pointer finger to follow along the route he was taking. The next sizeable town was just over ten miles out—no problem driving, but it clocked over a two-hour walk, and in this heat, Jeremy wasn’t sure he could make it.

He glanced around helplessly, reaching under the seat for his backpack and rifling through it until his fingers closed around something stiff and familiar, an old copy of the Yellow Pages. Someone had given it to him at a hostel when he was looking for something to  press his wildflowers in. Now it might be the only lifeline he had.

He flipped through its brittle, faded pages, scanning for any mention of mechanics or towing services. The listings were laughably outdated, full of area codes that probably didn’t exist anymore and ads with clip-art illustrations of smiling men in overalls. Still, he dialed the number printed beneath a bolded listing for an auto shop.

As the phone rang, Jeremy closed his eyes and muttered, "Please still work. Please still work."

To his amazement, someone answered.

"Alvarez Auto," said a female voice, a little scratchy with static but undeniably real.

Jeremy nearly dropped the phone in relief. His throat tightened unexpectedly, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak.

"Uh—hi, yeah, sorry, I—I’m stuck on the side of the road. I think my radiator’s blown. I found your number in an old phone book and—" he trailed off, breath catching.

There was a pause, then a chuckle. "Lucky find. We can send a tow. Where you at?"

Jeremy gave her his location, the mile marker, the road name, anything he could remember. The woman on the line—Cat, she said—listened patiently.

"We’ll be out in thirty," she said. "Hang tight."

Jeremy hung up and set the phone on the dash. He leaned back in his seat, eyes closing, a long breath leaving him in one slow rush. It wasn’t salvation, but it was something. He felt so relieved he could cry.

The tow truck came rumbling up the road in a plume of pale dust, sun flashing off the windshield, the engine growling low and steady like it had something to prove. Jeremy shaded his eyes with his hand, squinting through the heat haze, heart thudding in tentative relief.

The driver stepped out of the cab like a scene cut from a film reel -boots hitting gravel with a solid thud, overalls rolled down and tied at her waist, a tight black t-shirt clinging to her frame. Her arms were tanned, and streaked with engine grease. Curls were drawn back from her face, held in place by a bright red bandana that looked well worn and loved. She moved with a mechanic's ease, unhurried but certain, confident in the way only someone who could take apart a truck blindfolded would be.

Jeremy blinked against the sun, suddenly all too aware of how sweaty and dusty he was.

"You the one who called?" she asked, her voice light but edged with grit. She didn’t sound annoyed. Just amused.

Jeremy nodded. "Yeah. That was me. Radiator blew, I think."

She whistled low, eyes running over the car like she was cataloguing its sins. "She’s a stubborn old girl. You get lucky. Another ten minutes and you'd have fried her completely."

Jeremy huffed a laugh and ran a hand through his damp hair. "Guess I got good timing."

"Or dumb luck," she shot back, but it was said with a smirk. She stuck out her hand. "Cat. I work down at the old auto shop in town."

"Jeremy," he said, taking her hand and shaking it. Her grip was firm, her palm rough with calluses. He liked it.

She turned her attention to the tow hitch, already walking around the car, checking things over. The tools clinked as she pulled them from the rig, her hands moving with easy efficiency. Jeremy stood back, grateful and useless, watching the way she handled everything like it weighed nothing.

She got the car hooked up in no time, dusting her palms off on her thighs. "Alright, let’s get you and your chariot off the roadside."

Jeremy climbed into the passenger seat of the tow truck, and the rush of cool air-conditioning hit him like a blessing. He sank back against the seat with a soft, almost involuntary sigh, letting the cold air chase away the heat clinging to his skin.

Cat climbed in beside him, started the truck again, and gave him a sideways look. "First time stranded in the middle of nowhere?"

"Yeah," Jeremy said, closing his eyes for a moment. "Hope it’s the last."

She laughed, a low, warm sound that filled the cab. "Welcome to Texas, sweetheart. Don’t bet on it."

The drive was easy. The truck hummed around them, and the air was pleasantly cold without being too sharp. Cat made casual small talk -asked him where he was headed, how long he’d been driving, if he liked the smell of gasoline or if he was just faking it. Jeremy surprised himself by answering, by laughing, by talking back like it hadn’t been days since he’d spoken more than a sentence to anyone.

It felt good. Better than he’d expected.

They pulled into town just as the sun began to slip toward the horizon, bathing everything in a warm, hazy glow. Jeremy leaned forward, peering through the windshield as buildings appeared one by one, low-slung and sun-bleached. The streets were quiet, but not empty, a few folks sat out on porches or leaned against parked trucks, watching the evening settle in like they had nowhere better to be. It was the kind of town that looked like it hadn’t changed in twenty years, maybe longer. Hand-painted signs. Cracked sidewalks. A dog sleeping in front of the corner store.

It was small. Still. A little forgotten. But there was a softness to it that Jeremy hadn't expected, a kind of gentle rhythm that made his shoulders ease without him realizing.

They turned on another street and Alvarez Auto popped into view. The building was squat and broad, metal siding weathered by time and heat. The lot was scattered with half-fixed cars and sun-cracked lawn chairs.

As soon as they pulled in, a couple of mechanics glanced up from their work. One waved. Another gave a slow nod. Cat killed the engine, hopped out of the truck, and motioned for Jeremy to follow.

"This here’s the crew," she said, gesturing casually. "Don’t let the dirt fool you. They know their stuff."

Jeremy smiled awkwardly and nodded to the group. One of the mechanics -a tall man with long braids and oil-smudged glasses- grinned and said, "You break it, we bless it. Welcome to the pit."

Cat unhooked the car and gave it a once-over, her expression shifting into something more focused.

"So, here’s the deal," she said after a minute. "Yeah, your radiator’s cooked. Lucky save, honestly. It’s an easy enough fix, but-"

Jeremy watched her face, already anticipating the catch.

"-we’re out of the part. Supply’s been slow lately. I’ll call in an order, but it won’t get here 'til Monday."

Jeremy sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "So I’m stuck."

"Only for the weekend," Cat said, not unkindly. "You’re welcome to hang around. Not like this place has a dress code."

Jeremy nodded slowly, the exhaustion catching up to him again. Stranded, yes. But maybe not alone.

Cat glanced over at him again, then gave a small shrug like she was brushing off the thought before it could settle. "You eaten yet?"

Jeremy blinked. "Uh, no. Not since..." He honestly couldn’t remember.

"Thought so," she said. "Hang tight. I’m gonna wash off the worst of today’s mess and change out of these overalls before we head out. Place around the corner’s pretty decent."

She disappeared inside the shop, and Jeremy took a seat on the low concrete step just outside the bay doors. The sounds of the garage buzzed quietly behind him -tools being put away, metal clinking, the low murmur of tired conversation.

A few minutes later, Cat re-emerged. The overalls were gone, replaced by faded black jeans and a white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her bandana remained, bright red against the halo of curls she’d now let down just slightly, the wild ends tucked behind her ears. She looked a little more polished, but still unmistakably herself.

"C’mon," she said, jerking her chin toward the sidewalk. "It’s just a block over."

They walked in companionable silence until they reached the diner, a bright little building with wide windows and soft yellow light spilling out onto the pavement. A bell over the door jingled as Cat pushed it open, and the cool rush of air hit Jeremy like a blessing.

"Cat!" called one of the servers from behind the counter. "Back again? You know you’re gonna turn into a basket of fries one of these days."

Cat grinned. "Then I’ll die happy. We’ll take my usual booth, yeah?"

Jeremy followed her through the familiar maze of tables, noting how every few steps someone greeted her- by name, with warmth. She belonged here in a way that felt effortless. Like the diner, and maybe the whole town, would fold itself around her if she asked.

They slid into a booth by the window, the vinyl cushions creaking softly beneath them. Cat reached for a menu even though Jeremy had a feeling she already knew it front to back.

"If you’re hungry -and you look like you are- the chicken fried steak’s solid. Fries are killer. I get the patty melt sometimes, but only if I’m feeling brave. The coleslaw’s misreable though, don’t let them talk you into it."

Jeremy scanned the menu, half reading, half just enjoying the cool air and the fact that someone was talking to him like he belonged there. His stomach gave a sudden, loud grumble, and he froze.

Cat burst out laughing, slapping the menu down. "Well, that settles it."

Their waitress appeared with a notepad in hand, pen already poised. "Hey, Cat. You want the usual?"

"Yeah," Cat said. "And throw in a veggie plate to-go, the one with the roasted squash and mac. That one’s for later."

She nodded toward Jeremy. "And whatever this one wants. He’s half-starved."

Jeremy gave a sheepish smile. "I’ll have the chicken fried steak. And -uh- sweet tea, please."

The waitress winked. "Coming right up."

Once she was gone, Cat leaned her elbows on the table and looked at him with an easy smile. "So what’s a guy like you doing way out here anyway?"

Jeremy shrugged, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. "Honestly? Just passing through. Driving until the road runs out or something catches. I didn’t really have a plan." He gave her a wry smile. "Guess I was lucky to find you."

Cat lifted her iced tea, the condensation dripping down her fingers. "Well, if you’re gonna get stranded, you may as well do it somewhere with decent food and people."

She took a sip, then added, more casually, "I’ve lived here most of my life. Work at the family shop. Me and my brothers run it now, though I do most of the real work." She grinned. "Got a girlfriend at home who’s a writer."

She watched Jeremy carefully for his reaction, but he just blinked, pleasantly surprised.

"A writer? That’s awesome," he said, perking up. "What kind of stuff does she write?"

Cat’s shoulders relaxed just slightly. "Journalism, mostly. But she’s got this little magazine column about local weirdos and ghost stories. Cryptids, stuff like that. She’s kind of obsessed."

Jeremy laughed, already intrigued. "That sounds amazing. I’ve got to hear more about that."

Their food arrived quickly, and Jeremy was immediately besotted by the smell. Fat, greasy, comforting, it was exactly what his starving body wanted, so tempting that he was almost drooling. The chicken fried steak was something he’d never had before, golden-brown, crispy perfection smothered generously in thick, peppery gravy. Beside it, the fries were dusted in a seasoning that had his stomach growling all over again.

He wasted no time tucking into his meal, his eyes half-closed as he savored the burst of flavors, barely pausing to breathe. Cat watched him with open amusement, a wide grin spreading across her face.

"Slow down there," she teased. "It’s not going anywhere."

Jeremy came up for air, cheeks full, eyes bright. "Sorry- it's just so good."

Cat laughed warmly, clearly pleased. "Glad it meets your high standards."

Jeremy nodded enthusiastically, already reaching for another bite. The food was comforting in a way he hadn’t expected, a warm, filling balm after days spent alone on the road, subsisting on whatever he could scrounge from convenience stores and roadside stands. Each mouthful felt like something close to home, warm, nourishing, and deeply satisfying.

They ate quietly, the silence easy and companionable, punctuated occasionally by small talk about Cat’s family, the auto shop, and snippets of local life. Jeremy listened intently, soaking up the casual details of her life here, charmed by how effortlessly she wove each tale.

As the last crumbs disappeared from their plates, Jeremy leaned back, one hand resting on his full belly, a contented sigh slipping past his lips. His gaze drifted briefly toward a passing waiter carrying a towering sundae dripping with fudge and caramel, but he shook his head gently. He couldn’t possibly fit another bite in.

Cat noticed his wistful look and grinned mischievously. "Maybe next time."

Jeremy laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, next time."

Their waitress returned with Cat’s to-go order carefully bundled in a paper bag, and Jeremy reached quickly for his wallet.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Cat protested immediately, shaking her head. “This one’s on me.”

Jeremy held up his hand, already pulling out a few crumpled bills. “No chance. You literally saved my day. Least I can do is cover dinner.”

They locked eyes briefly in a playful challenge until Jeremy decisively placed the bills on the table, victorious. Cat rolled her eyes but couldn’t help her amused smile.

"Fine, you win," she conceded graciously. "But I’m buying dessert next time."

Jeremy chuckled, realizing he liked the sound of "next time."

Cat and Jeremy stepped out of the diner into the softening twilight. The sky had melted into shades of pink and orange, and the air, finally cool enough to breathe deeply, carried a faint scent of blooming flowers. Cat kicked at the loose gravel underfoot, seeming to chew on her words before finally glancing over at Jeremy.

"Hey," she began, voice unusually hesitant, "it’s pretty late, and finding a motel around here this hour -and on foot- wouldn't exactly be easy. Laila and I have a spare room at our place, nothing fancy, but…" She shrugged lightly, offering a small smile. "If you want, you could crash with us this weekend."

Jeremy felt his eyes widen, surprise quickly giving way to a wave of relief and gratitude. "Really? Are you sure Laila’s okay with it? I mean, I don't want to impose."

Cat smiled warmly, visibly relaxing at his enthusiastic response. "She’s good with it. Trust me."

Jeremy exhaled deeply, a grin breaking across his face. "Then, yeah. Absolutely. Thank you."

"Good," Cat said, looking relieved herself. "Come on, the shop’s just around the corner."

They walked back slowly, the town quieting around them, lights flickering on in the homes and shops they passed. By the time they reached the garage, everything was closed up for the night, the familiar scents of oil and rubber replaced with the gentle aroma of cooling asphalt and evening dew.

Cat headed straight for a sleek, black motorbike parked to the side, its polished metal glinting in the fading sunlight. Jeremy felt excitement stir in his chest as he watched her reach into the bike’s saddlebag, pulling out an extra helmet. She handed it to him, her eyes bright and teasing. "Ever ridden before?"

"Not really," Jeremy admitted, adjusting the helmet uncertainly. Cat stepped closer, deftly securing the strap beneath his chin with practiced ease.

"Hold on tight," she instructed, straddling the bike with effortless grace. Jeremy swung onto the back, heart racing as he settled in, tentatively wrapping his arms around her waist.

The engine roared to life beneath them, vibrating through Jeremy's bones, thrilling and nerve-wracking all at once. Cat kicked off the stand and guided the bike smoothly onto the wide, open streets. Jeremy tightened his grip, the wind rushing past him, cool and exhilarating, sweeping away the last remnants of exhaustion.

He let out a laugh, quietly into the helmet, unable to keep the smile off his face. Maybe being stranded here wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Cat pulled the motorbike gently up to the curb outside a charming, pale blue two-story home with a welcoming white porch. Warm yellow light spilled from the windows, making everything look soft and inviting in the deepening twilight. Jeremy slid off the back of the bike, heart still humming pleasantly from the ride.

Cat grinned at him, jerking her head toward the door. "Come on in," she said, kicking off her boots by the door and calling out as she stepped inside. "We're home!"

Jeremy quickly followed her lead, toeing out of his worn sneakers and placing them neatly beside her boots. From the living room, a curious face peeked around the corner. Laila, glasses perched on her nose and hair pulled loosely back, smiled warmly.

"Who’s this? You brought home another stray?" she teased affectionately, stepping fully into the entryway.

Cat laughed, shaking her head. "Laila, this is Jeremy. His car broke down. Jeremy, meet Laila."

Jeremy smiled shyly, offering a small wave. "Nice to meet you."

Laila beamed. "Likewise." She made exaggerated grabby hands toward the bag Cat was holding. "Food? Please?"

Cat rolled her eyes fondly, passing over the carefully bundled take-out. "You're lucky I love you."

"Very lucky," Laila agreed with a playful smile, already peeking inside the bag. She started plating her dinner as she spoke, casually asking Jeremy questions about his travels, making him feel comfortably welcomed.

As they talked, a sleek, beautiful brown cat emerged from around the corner, weaving gracefully around Laila's legs with a delicate purr.

"That's Hazel," Cat offered, smiling as Laila bent to gently scratch behind the cat’s ears.

Jeremy crouched down, offering his hand. Hazel sniffed delicately, then rubbed her face against his fingers, prompting him to scratch gently along her chin.

Once the introductions and stories were exchanged, Cat stretched her arms over her head, sighing contentedly. "I’m heading for a shower. You two good?"

Laila nodded, holding a forkful of food mid-air. "We're all set."

As Cat disappeared down the hallway, Laila poured Jeremy a tall glass of sweet tea, handing it to him with a warm smile. He thanked her, sipping quietly while his eyes wandered around the room, soaking in the whimsical decor, colourful art, vibrant flowers, and candid photographs filling every available space.

When Laila finished eating, she stood, brushing crumbs from her fingers. "You must have had a long day. Let me show you your room and get you settled."

She guided Jeremy up the stairs to a cozy guest room, small but bright, with sheer white curtains filtering the glow of the setting sun. The bed was simple, draped with soft cotton sheets, and piles of notebooks, photographs, and loose papers were scattered across every available surface.

"Sorry about the mess," Laila apologized sheepishly. "I usually use this room as my office."

Jeremy shook his head quickly. "No, please, don’t apologize. I’m grateful for the place to stay."

Together they quickly tidied the room, stacking notebooks neatly, clearing enough space for Jeremy to comfortably navigate. Laila found him a soft pink towel, placing it on the foot of the freshly made bed.

"Bathroom’s just across the hall," she said kindly. "Cat sometimes stays up late, so if you need anything, just holler."

"Thank you," Jeremy said again, genuinely grateful for their kindness.

"You’re welcome," Laila smiled warmly. "Make yourself at home."

Jeremy stepped into the bathroom as soon as he heard Cat finish up. The lingering steam was already dissipating, replaced by a cool, calm quiet. He took a brisk shower, the cool water soothing his sunburnt skin, washing away the grime and stress of the long, challenging day. It felt like shedding a heavy, uncomfortable skin, allowing him to finally breathe deeply again.

Stepping out, he dried his hair roughly with the soft pink towel Laila had provided, hanging it neatly beside two brightly colored towels already on the rack. He brushed his teeth, savoring the freshness before slipping into his pajamas. a worn-out t-shirt and comfortable shorts.

Jeremy padded softly back to his temporary room, where he plugged his phone into its charger and carefully set an alarm for the morning. He cracked open the window, letting in the gentle evening breeze that carried the faint scent of blooming flowers and dew-covered grass.

Climbing into the small bed, Jeremy pulled the cotton sheets up to his chin, sinking back into the softness. But no matter how exhausted his body was, sleep eluded him. He tossed and turned restlessly, the sheets tangling around his legs. He tried breathing exercises, counting sheep, even revisiting comforting memories, but nothing worked. Each time he began drifting off, something inside jolted him awake again.

Eventually, he watched through heavy eyes as the sky outside shifted from ink-black to slate grey. Accepting defeat, Jeremy sat up and stretched stiffly. With sleep out of reach, he stood, shaking off the restless energy and wandering over to the stacks of papers Laila had left behind.

Curiosity overtook him, and he found himself flipping through the notes and articles scattered across the desk. He was puzzled but impressed by the sheer amount of information she had amassed, blurred photographs of shadowy figures, carefully handwritten notes on local myths and urban legends, fully formed articles detailing sightings and eyewitness accounts.

Immersed in the fascinating materials, he didn’t notice dawn breaking until the soft turning of the doorknob startled him upright. Laila peeked around the door, blinking in surprise to see him awake.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked gently, noticing the notes in his hands.

Jeremy blushed, hastily trying to hide the pages. "Sorry, I was just-"

She waved him off with an easy smile, stepping inside, Hazel trailing behind her. "Relax, it's fine. I left one of my notebooks here anyway. Sorry to intrude."

Jeremy hesitated, then gestured to the scattered papers. "These are incredible. What exactly are you investigating? Do you believe these stories?"

Laila’s eyes brightened instantly, and she sat cross-legged on the floor, Hazel curling comfortably into her lap. "Honestly? There's always something true hidden in myths. My job is figuring out what that truth is."

They dove into conversation, Jeremy fascinated as Laila excitedly shared stories, notes, and her methods for finding clues and corroborating evidence. Time slipped by unnoticed as they talked, the early morning sunlight growing brighter.

Eventually, Laila sighed softly. "It's been tough keeping up with the workload lately."

Jeremy straightened, interest piqued. "What kind of help would you need?"

Laila looked surprised, then cautiously hopeful. "You don't think it's silly?"

"Not at all," Jeremy assured earnestly. "Honestly, I'd love to help."

Laila smiled widely, relief and excitement clear on her face. "Then how about this- we can trial it over the weekend while your car's out of service, see how you like it? Payment in food and board?"

Jeremy felt a genuine, joyful excitement bubble inside him. "I'd love to. Absolutely."

Chapter Text

The morning light swept through the spare room as it steadily climbed higher in the sky. Dust caught in the beams like tiny fairies, swirling gently whenever one of them moved. Jeremy sat cross-legged on the floor beside Laila, both of them hunched over a pile of papers spread between them like an offering. The window was cracked open, letting in a breeze that was warm but welcome, carrying with it the chirping of birds and the distant hum of the town waking up.

Hazel had claimed the windowsill for herself, paws tucked neatly beneath her as she watched the world pass by outside with regal disinterest. Her tail flicked lazily every so often, ears twitching at the occasional sound.

Jeremy tugged at the collar of his shirt again, fanning the fabric against his chest. The warmth of the room clung to him like a second skin, and he was regretting not choosing something lighter to wear. Across from him, Laila looked effortlessly comfortable. Her long curls were pinned up loosely with a pencil, a few strands escaping to curl at her temples. She wore faded jean shorts and a soft camisole top, shoulders bare, a sheen of warmth on her skin that only made her look more relaxed.

She flipped through a stack of photos, holding one up to the light. "This one was taken near the old quarry," she murmured, passing it to Jeremy. "People say they’ve seen lights hovering over the water at nightc -like fireflies, but bigger. And slower."

Jeremy leaned closer, squinting at the blurry image of pale orbs against dark stone and water. "You think it’s real?"

Laila glanced at him, a slow smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I think something’s out there. Whether it’s what people say it is… well, that’s what I’m trying to figure out."

They fell into a quiet rhythm -passing notes, trading stories, piecing together details. Jeremy asked questions, genuinely curious, and Laila lit up with each one. For the first time in a long time, Jeremy felt like his presence meant something. Like he was helping build something, even if it was just a story.

The hours stretched, golden and slow, as they continued working side by side.

Laila began to open up more, sorting through a battered accordion folder packed with years of her research. "This one’s from Oregon," she said, pulling out a photo of a moss-covered bridge half lost to fog. "There were reports of a figure that walked across it only during thunderstorms, never left footprints, never said a word. I stayed in that town for over a week and didn’t hear a single clap of thunder."

Jeremy smiled, taking the photo carefully. "That’s wild. You’ve been all over."

"I have," Laila nodded, a little proud, a little nostalgic. She set a few more photos in front of him: grainy silhouettes in the trees, faint orbs glowing in high grass, half-legible handwritten testimonies. "I chased a lot of stories. Some were worth it. Some weren’t. But I always got a meal and a tale out of it."

He laughed softly. "So why settle here?"

She tilted her head toward the window, smiling faintly. "The food’s good. People are kind. And... I met Cat here. That kind of sealed the deal."

Jeremy nodded, understanding something unspoken in her tone. There was a warmth in it -not just about Cat, but about choosing a life that felt right even if it didn’t follow a straight line.

"This town’s got more weirdness than you’d think, too," she added, gesturing at the piles between them. "It just wears it quietly. Like it doesn’t want to be found, not unless you’re really looking."

Jeremy ran a finger along one of the photo edges. "Lucky I ended up here then, huh?"

Laila grinned. "Yeah. Lucky."

She stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her hands, glancing toward the sunlit window. "Texas has a long history with the supernatural, you know. People don’t always talk about it like they do in other states, but it’s here -buried in the bones of the land. I’ve written more about this state than anywhere else. San Antonio, El Paso, the Panhandle... you name it."

Jeremy looked at her with fresh curiosity. "Really? You've covered all of that?"

"Most of it," she said, digging through a folder and pulling out more photos. "There are cryptids all over the country, but Texas has some of the strangest stories. I’ve been dying to get photographic evidence of a few of them -chupacabras especially. I keep hearing about them in the farmland just outside town, and then there’s the stuff people claim to see in the woods at night."

She passed Jeremy a photo that looked like a motion blur of something slinking through tall grass. "That one’s probably just a coyote, but it doesn’t stop people from telling me it had red eyes and a spiked back."

Jeremy grinned. "And you still go looking for it?"

Laila gave him a satisfied shrug. "Wouldn’t be much of a cryptid hunter if I didn’t."

At that point, Cat nosed her way into the room, barefoot and damp-haired from her shower, wearing a loose tank and sweats that hung low on her hips. Without a word, she flopped down beside them, scattering a few papers and photographs in the process.

"Hope I’m not interrupting your top-secret cryptid briefing," she said, stretching her legs out like a cat taking up as much space as possible. She peered at one of the blurry photos Jeremy had just been handed. "This the famous coyote-with-a-mohawk picture?"

Laila rolled her eyes but smiled. "Something like that."

Hazel stirred at the sound of Cat’s voice and padded down from the windowsill to curl up beside her, as if to reclaim her spot. Jeremy laughed and offered her the photo. "You ever see anything weird around here?"

Cat shrugged, smirking. "Define weird. It’s a weird little town. You’ll see soon enough."

She leaned back on her elbows, scanning the room full of notes and clippings. "I support all this, you know," she added, gesturing loosely at the chaos of research. "Laila’s work, her chasing stories.I love how whimsical and obsessive she gets about it. But I wish I could go with her more. Some of those trips she’s taken, I’ve had to sit back and wait, worrying she’d get eaten by some shadow thing or fall down a ravine chasing a will-o'-the-wisp."

Laila reached out and gave her ankle a reassuring squeeze, and Cat smiled, softening. Her eyes flicked toward Jeremy, giving him a once-over. "But hey, now that she’s got you poking through all this with her -and you’ve got arms like that - maybe I can breathe a little easier."

Jeremy blinked in surprise, half laughing. "I guess I’m good for more than carrying boxes then."

Cat grinned. "Exactly. You’re hired muscle and cryptid bait. Welcome to the team."

Jeremy laughed good-naturedly, the sound light and easy between them. Laila rolled her eyes fondly, already beginning to gather the scattered papers into a few neat piles.

"Alright, that’s enough chaos for one morning," she said, brushing a curl from her face as she started cleaning up their mess.

Jeremy moved quickly to help, collecting stray notes and capping pens that had rolled under the desk. Hazel flicked her tail and leapt gracefully down from the window to investigate the shifting stacks.

"By the way," Cat said, standing with a stretch, "I made breakfast. Figured you’d both be hungry after your little folklore lesson.”

The kitchen smelled like heaven. Jeremy sat at the small round table, a mismatched mug of coffee cradled in his hands and a still-warm plate of breakfast in front of him. Cat had made eggs, fluffy and light, the kind you could only get from someone who actually knew what they were doing and sautéed vegetables that were caramelized just right, sweet and savory at the same time. Jeremy had never been so full so early in the morning, and honestly, he’d do just about anything to eat like this every day.

He took another bite and groaned softly. "Cat, this is seriously good. Like, unfairly good."

Across the table, Cat raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased. "Don’t hype me up too much. I might start charging."

Laila laughed as she carried her empty plate to the sink. Jeremy followed suit, rinsing his cutlery and stacking the dishes carefully beside hers.

That’s when Laila’s phone rang -sharp and sudden in the soft quiet of the kitchen.

Jeremy didn’t try to listen in, but her tone immediately shifted to one of focus. He only caught bits and pieces, "Yes, near the creek," and "When did you notice it acting strange?" before she flipped the phone closed with a decisive snap.

She turned to them with a bright spark in her eyes, the same look she’d had when she first started pulling out cryptid files the nightbefore.

"We have a new mystery, guys," she said, grinning.

Cat groaned with mock dread and stretched her arms behind her head. "Of course we do. Can’t even finish breakfast in peace."

Jeremy, already intrigued, leaned forward. "What kind of mystery?"

Laila just smiled wider. "Grab your shoes. I’ll explain on the way."

What followed was chaos. Jeremy watched, equal parts impressed and overwhelmed, as Cat and Laila moved through the house like a well-rehearsed storm. Bags were flung open and filled, notebooks grabbed off shelves, a camera tucked safely into its padded case. Laila rattled off a list of things to bring while Cat darted between rooms, collecting odds and ends that Jeremy couldn’t even name.

He stood in the hallway like the calm center of a very strange, very specific tornado. Hazel wove between his ankles with a chirp, then hopped up onto a windowsill to resume her post.

Within minutes, they were heading out the front door, arms full. Jeremy followed them onto the porch, wondering how they'd pile onto Cat's motorbike again. But instead, his eyes caught on a sleek, small car tucked beneath the wide shade of a big tree on the side of the house. It was a deep green, almost black, and shimmered faintly under the sunlight filtering through the leaves.

Laila clicked her key fob and the lights blinked. "She doesn’t get as much love as the bike, but she’s got better air conditioning."

Jeremy couldn’t argue with that. He helped load their bags into the trunk while Cat claimed shotgun, already fiddling with the radio. Laila slid into the driver’s seat with practiced ease, and Jeremy took the back, still marveling a little at how quickly things had shifted from pancakes to paranormal in under fifteen minutes.

Once they were settled in and Laila pulled out of the driveway, the hum of the tires on the road filled the comfortable silence. Trees blurred past the windows in streaks of green and gold.

"So," Laila began, eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel, "that was a local rancher who called. Said a couple of his goats were found dead this morning. Bloodless. Completely drained. And no signs of predators nearby. Said it gave him the creeps."

Jeremy furrowed his brow, turning the details over in his head. "The chupacabra?"

Cat twisted in her seat to look back at him, grinning. "Yup! Literally 'goat suckers.' It’s a classic."

Jeremy blinked. "Wait- that’s an actual thing people see around here?"

Laila chuckled. "Well, it’s not always goats, but yeah. Enough stories crop up around here that I keep a file open just in case. We get calls like this every so often. Most of the time it’s nothing, sick animals, old fences, some rowdy kids playing pranks, but we always check them out just in case. So don’t worry too much."

Laila gave a thoughtful pause before adding, "Honestly, I would’ve preferred to ease you into all this. Let you meet a few locals, sit in on some interviews, get a feel for how things run before throwing you into the deep end. But these things never really happen on a schedule."

She glanced at him in the rearview mirror and offered a reassuring smile. "We’ll head to the farm, talk to the guy who called, check out the area where the goats were found. If there’s anything strange, we’ll stake the place out tonight and see what shows up."

"It's pretty standard for us," Cat added, still fiddling with the radio until she found a station playing something twangy and upbeat. "Talk, walk, watch, snack. Try not to get eaten. You know, the usual."

They drove for another thirty minutes before the scenery shifted. The paved road gave way to gravel, then to a narrow dirt path that cut through tall grass and orchards of peach trees. A weathered mailbox marked the entrance to the farm, its paint faded and lettering barely legible. Laila turned in without hesitation.

The farmhouse came into view first, white and square, with a wraparound porch and a sagging swing. A few rusted tools leaned against the side of the house, and a line of laundry hung still and sun-dried in the late morning heat. Beyond it stretched the grazing fields, dotted with fence posts and patches of scrubby wildflowers.

Jeremy spotted a man waiting near the edge of the property, standing beside a pickup truck and a dusty old tractor. He raised a hand in greeting as they pulled up, wiping sweat from his brow with a faded red bandana.

"That’s our guy," Laila murmured as she parked. She and Cat stepped out first, and Jeremy followed, shielding his eyes from the sun.

The man introduced himself as Roy. He looked like someone who had spent a lifetime outdoors, tanned skin, lined face, and calloused hands. He seemed tired, but not unkind.

"Thanks for coming," Roy said, shaking Laila’s hand. "Didn’t know who else to call. Just didn’t feel right, the way it happened."

"Of course," Laila replied smoothly. "We’ll take a look."

Roy led them around the side of a low barn, gesturing to a patch of earth where two goats lay under a tarp. The smell hit Jeremy first -pungent and sour- but it was the eerie stillness of the scene that unsettled him more.

Cat knelt and lifted the tarp with gloved hands. Jeremy stood a few paces back, watching as she examined the carcasses with practiced eyes.

"No blood at all," she muttered. "Not even around the mouth."

Laila crouched beside her, notebook already in hand, jotting down observations. Jeremy scanned the treeline beyond the field, half-expecting to see glowing red eyes staring back.

Something about the silence around them felt wrong. Like the animals weren’t the only ones being observed.

Jeremy steeled his stomach. The breakfast Cat had made had been way too good to lose near some goat bodies. Still, the smell was something else, sharp and metallic under the sun, lingering in the back of his throat.

Laila must have noticed his unease, because without a word, she pressed a camera into his hands. Jeremy gripped it tightly, grateful for the distraction, grateful for something to do.

Looking at the scene through the lens made it easier. There was a safety in the glass, in the screen between him and reality. Through the camera, the scene became shapes and light, not flesh and consequence. He swallowed down the nausea and started snapping quiet, focused shots while Cat and Laila murmured their observations over the bodies.

Once he’d gotten enough shots of the scene, Jeremy stepped back and let his feet carry him a little further off to the side. He kept the camera raised, snapping a few candid photos of Laila crouched with her notebook and Cat leaning over the tarp, her brows knit in concentration. He turned slightly, capturing the farmhouse in the distance, the swing, the gentle slope of the barn roof catching the light.

Then, just beyond the edge of the field, his lens passed over the eastern perimeter -where the woods pressed in close, dense and shadowed even in daylight. He took a photo absentmindedly, not really thinking, just framing the treeline through instinct.

Behind him, Cat and Laila were wrapping up their conversation with Roy. Laila’s voice rose slightly as she called out, "Jeremy! You good? Come on back."

He turned and jogged back over, camera swinging at his side. Laila gave him a quick once-over, her expression softening.

"We're heading back for now," she said gently. "We’ll come back later tonight and do a proper stakeout."

Cat nodded in agreement, brushing her hands on her jeans. "We’ve seen all we need for now."

Jeremy nodded, though he still felt a little unsteady.

Laila caught the pallor in his face and gave him a kind smile. "You did good, okay? First scenes like this are never easy."

Cat stepped closer and patted him on the back, warm and solid. "Yeah. You didn’t puke on the goats, which is more than we can say for some of our past helpers."

Jeremy managed a laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing as the three of them headed back toward the car.

The drive home was quieter, the mood a little more subdued but not uncomfortable. Cat leaned her head against the window while Laila kept one hand on the wheel, the other absently tapping the dashboard in rhythm with a mellow tune on the radio. Jeremy sat in the back, watching the fields roll by, the tension in his chest slowly unspooling with every mile.

When they got back to the house, the afternoon sun was high and hazy. Cat kicked off her boots by the door and stretched like a cat, groaning as her back popped.

"I vote we decompress before we do anything else," she said. "That was... a lot."

Laila nodded and headed into the kitchen to make iced tea while Jeremy flopped onto the couch, Hazel immediately hopping up and curling beside him like a living, purring cushion.

Cat walked by a moment later, spotted them, and gave a soft click of her tongue. Without a word, she scooped Hazel up gently and plopped the cat directly onto Jeremy’s lap. "Therapeutic cat delivery," she said with a wink.

Hazel, to her credit, seemed entirely unbothered by the sudden relocation. She circled once, then settled heavily on Jeremy’s thighs with a satisfied sigh, her purring resuming like nothing had happened.

Jeremy smiled, surprised by how much better he felt just having her there.

They didn’t talk much for a while. Cat put on some music, low and crackling from the old speaker in the corner, while Laila returned with three tall glasses clinking with ice, condensation dripping down the sides. They sat together, the weight of the morning slowly giving way to the softness of home.

Jeremy let himself sink into it, letting the cool tea soothe his throat and the background chatter of Cat and Laila settle him. Whatever waited out in those woods could wait a little longer. For now, this, sunlight, quiet, and company was more than enough.

As dusk fell, the mood in the house shifted with the light. The easy comfort of the afternoon gave way to a quiet focus. Cat and Laila moved through their familiar routine -packing flashlights, thermoses, spare batteries, and snacks- while Jeremy pulled on his hoodie and checked the charge on the camera Laila had lent him.

By the time they loaded back into the car, the sky had dipped into violet, and the fields rolled past like ghosts beneath the rising moon. No one said much. The quiet felt necessary, reverent, like they were preparing for something they couldn’t quite name.

When they arrived back at the farm, Roy’s truck was gone, and the property was cloaked in a deeper hush than before.

"Alright," she said, voice soft in the dark. "Let’s see if our friend decides to show itself tonight."

Jeremy sat stiffly in the backseat, his hoodie bunched awkwardly around his arms, hands clenched around the straps of his borrowed backpack. This was his first real outing, and he had no idea how to act, what to do, or even what he should be watching for. The silence in the car wasn't helping. Every little bump in the road felt like a jolt to his nerves.

When they pulled up to the farmhouse, the fields were awash in silver moonlight, the barn casting long shadows across the yard. Jeremy didn’t move right away when Laila killed the engine. He stayed in the backseat, nerves curling tight in his stomach.

Laila popped out of the car and made her way toward the porch light, where Roy must have left something for them. Jeremy watched as she disappeared into the glow, then returned a few minutes later with a paper plate of sandwiches wrapped in saran wrap and three thermoses balanced expertly in her arms.

She opened the back door and handed one of the thermoses to Jeremy, along with a wrapped sandwich. "Brought provisions," she said with a soft smile. He cracked open the thermos and the rich scent of coffee drifted up.

Jeremy didn’t need the energy. His anxiety was already buzzing like electricity under his skin. But he accepted the cup, the warmth of it grounding in his hands. Maybe if he focused on keeping the coffee steady, his hands wouldn’t shake so badly.

They pulled the car closer to the edge of the field where the goats had been found earlier that morning. The moon cast a cool glow over the grass, and the distant trees stood like dark sentinels beyond the fence.

Cat and Laila moved easily, settling into their spots with a practiced calm. They unpacked a blanket and flashlights, their movements deliberate but unhurried. Jeremy tried to mimic their composure, setting down his thermos and adjusting the camera in his lap, but every rustle in the grass, every soft bleat from a distant goat, set his heart hammering.

He watched them from the corner of his eye, how Cat leaned back against the car door, arms crossed and completely at ease, while Laila scribbled notes in the light of a small lantern without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

Jeremy inhaled slowly, trying to match their rhythm, trying to remind himself that they’d done this before. That if they weren’t panicking, he didn’t need to either. But it was hard. The night was thick with tension, the kind that crawled under your skin and refused to leave.

Then, just past the treeline- something cracked. A sharp, unmistakable snap, like a thick branch giving way under weight.

Jeremy jolted, his whole body stiffening. The sound echoed just long enough to make him question whether he’d imagined it.

Cat’s head tilted toward the woods, and Laila paused mid-scribble, her pen hovering above her notebook.

No one said anything for a moment. The bleating from the animals had gone quiet. Even the crickets had quietened their chirping. 

Jeremy’s fingers tightened around the camera, the warmth of the coffee in his thermos forgotten beside him.

The woods remained still. But the silence now had a shape to it, watchful, waiting.

The sound didn’t come again.

After a few minutes, Laila rose quietly to her feet. She glanced at Cat, then motioned for Jeremy to follow her. He scrambled up quickly, trying not to trip over the blanket or his own feet, heart thudding in his chest.

They moved toward the edge of the field together, the beams of their flashlights cutting narrow paths through the tall grass.

They stepped into the woods, careful not to disturb too much underfoot. The canopy above them thickened, dimming the moonlight until only their flashlights provided any clarity. Their beams swung in long, sweeping motions over tree roots and tangled shrubs, illuminating little more than bark and shadow.

Jeremy kept close to Laila, every rustle and snap in the brush making his pulse spike. He swallowed hard and focused on the light in front of him, telling himself over and over that it was probably just a raccoon. Or the wind. Or nothing at all.

They moved toward the edge of the field together, the beams of their flashlights cutting narrow paths through the tall grass.

They stepped into the woods, flashlights sweeping wide over knotted roots and underbrush. The trees pressed close, their limbs reaching out like arms in the dark, and every now and then, Jeremy’s light caught the glint of animal eyes watching from a distance—only to vanish when he blinked.

They walked slowly, deliberately. Nothing moved except the occasional breeze that rustled the leaves overhead. They circled the area near the treeline for a while, then fanned out a bit more.

"Over here," Cat called quietly. Her light was fixed on the ground beneath a patch of tall grass.

Jeremy and Laila joined her, and Laila crouched to take a better look. Pressed into the earth was a paw print, large, clean, and deeply indented, as if whatever had made it had been heavy. But there were no other prints nearby. No leading trail. Just the single print, like it had been placed there on purpose.

Laila took a few quick photos. "That’s... weird."

"That’s one word for it," Cat muttered. She glanced at Jeremy, offering a reassuring smile. "Probably just a big dog. With very good balance."

They didn’t find anything else.

Eventually, after another half hour of searching with no further signs, Laila sighed and glanced up at the moon. "Alright. Let’s head back. We’ll log it and follow up tomorrow."

Jeremy nodded, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been watching them from deeper in the trees.

Back at the house, the warmth of the porch light was a welcome comfort. They left their gear by the door, spoke in low voices, and parted ways for the night.

Jeremy’s room was quiet. Too quiet. Hazel, who had followed him earlier, paused at the threshold this time, ears twitching. She sniffed the air, gave a low, displeased growl -unusual for her- and then turned around and trotted back down the hall.

"Okay," Jeremy whispered to himself. "Weird cat. It’s fine."

He shut the door and tried to settle into bed, but sleep didn’t come easy. His body was heavy and his eyes stung front he lack of sleep, but every creak of the house made him tense. Outside, the wind picked up, rustling the leaves, scraping a branch against the side of the house.

Somewhere in the dark, he thought he heard the soft, deliberate tap of claws on pavement.

He sat up, heart pounding, and crossed the room to his camera. He flipped through the photos from earlier -goats, field, barn, Cat and Laila working in the dirt. Then a shot of the trees. Another.

And there, in the edge of the frame, just behind the dense brush: a smudge. A blur that looked almost like a hunched figure crouched in the undergrowth.

He zoomed in, but the image was too grainy to tell.

Jeremy sat back, suddenly very awake. He put the camera down slowly, ears straining in the dark. The shadows outside his window didn’t feel as still as they had before.

A gust of wind rattled the glass. A branch scraped faintly against the side of the house. But underneath those ordinary sounds, Jeremy thought he heard something else -soft, dragging footsteps across the gravel outside. Not constant. Just a few. Then silence.

He stood up, padded barefoot across the room, and edged the curtain aside just enough to peer out into the night. The yard beyond was empty. The trees still. Nothing moved.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was just out of view. Just past the reach of the porch light. Watching.

A sudden creak from the hallway made him flinch. Hazel, maybe. Or Cat heading to the kitchen. Normal things. Probably.

Still, Jeremy didn’t turn off the bedside lamp when he crawled back under the covers. He lay stiff on his side, eyes fixed on the closed curtains, waiting for a sound he couldn’t name. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, telling himself over and over that it was probably just a raccoon. Or the wind. Or nothing at all.

Chapter Text

Jeremy didn’t remember falling asleep. One minute he was curled under the covers, staring at the closed curtains, the bedside lamp still on; the next, the world twisted sideways.

He dreamed in pieces. Fog rolling across an empty field. The sound of something pacing just beyond the edges of light. A low hum that grew louder the closer he got to the trees. In the dream, Hazel sat in the grass, watching him, her eyes gold and glassy. She opened her mouth to speak, but he never heard what she said.

When he woke, he felt like he hadn’t slept at all.

The light through the window was soft, but Jeremy was groggy, his limbs heavy and slow to respond. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and stayed like that for a while, trying to force the fog from his brain.

Second night in a row with no real rest. His bones ached with it.

When he finally sat up, Hazel was curled at the foot of the bed, breathing softly. Like she’d never hissed or growled at the window. Like none of it had happened.

But Jeremy remembered. Not the dream, that was already slipping, but the feeling. The kind that didn’t shake off in the morning light. The kind that stayed.

Outside, the sky had turned a deep slate grey, clouds layered and heavy like a ceiling waiting to press down. The house felt dim despite the hour, shadows stretching long and thin even through the drawn curtains. The change in weather was sudden, unexpected and Jeremy didn’t like it.

Something about the air felt thick. Charged.

He padded to the window, rubbing at his face, and squinted out into the yard. The trees were still. The grass barely moved. But the quiet was too full, and the clouds above churned without thunder.

He shivered, suddenly chilled, and pulled on a hoodie.

The house was silent. No footsteps. No clatter from the kitchen. Not even Hazel’s soft patters on the floor.

Jeremy’s eyes drifted to the camera, still resting on the corner of the bed where he’d left it. It sat there like it had something to say. He looked at it for a long moment, then turned away and padded toward the bathroom to wash his face.

When he wandered into the kitchen a few minutes later, his hair damp and the skin around his eyes still tight with sleep, he found two plates of breakfast sitting on the counter, carefully wrapped in foil to keep warm. But no Cat in sight.

The silence wasn’t oppressive, exactly, but it sat wrong in his chest. Yesterday morning had been warm and full of noise, mugs clinking, Cat humming at the stove, Laila laughing at something someone said. Now it was just the quiet hum of the fridge and the muted thrum of the outside world beyond the walls.

Jeremy unwrapped one of the plates and sat down, eating slowly, the food still good but dulled by the silence. He cleaned up after himself out of habit, rinsing the plate and wiping the counter, the routine grounding even as his thoughts drifted.

Something about today felt thinner. Like something had been peeled back.

Laila appeared a while later, still sleep-ruffled, her curls pulled back in a lazy twist and Hazel cradled in her arms like a queen. She shuffled in barefoot, blinked once at the light, and made a low humming noise before heading for the counter.

Jeremy was nursing his second cup of coffee by then, hands wrapped around the mug like it was the only warm thing left in the room. He offered her a small smile.

"Morning," Laila said, her voice low and still laced with sleep. She deposited Hazel gently on the chair beside her and began unwrapping one of the breakfast plates.

She looked over her shoulder as she grabbed a fork. "You holding up okay? After last night?"

Jeremy hesitated, then shrugged, gaze dropping to the coffee. "Tired. Just tired."

Laila gave a soft laugh, not unkind. "Try not to let it get to you. Probably just a fox in the woods. We’ve had plenty sneak onto properties before."

She didn’t sound dismissive, more like someone trying to offer something solid in the absence of certainty.

Jeremy nodded, even if the words didn’t settle quite right.

He sipped his coffee, let the steam rise to his face, but the warmth didn’t cut through the feeling curling deep in his chest. Something about the way the woods had gone quiet. The way Hazel had growled at his door. The way the shadows had felt too still.

He didn’t know what exactly he was holding onto- but it hadn’t let go of him, either.

There was more to the matter at hand. He was sure of it.

Laila sat down across from him with her plate, blowing gently on a bite of egg before looking up. "Cat headed to the garage early," she said casually. "She’s got a full day with her dad, won’t be back until later this evening."

Jeremy nodded slowly, trying not to look too disappointed. 

"Which means," Laila continued, grinning around her fork, "you’re stuck running errands with me today. Hope you like wandering around town and carrying groceries."

Jeremy gave her a crooked smile. "I’ve had worse jobs."

"Good," she said, popping a bite into her mouth. "We’ll grab some groceries, stop by the paper so I can hand off a few pieces to my editor, and maybe swing by the bookshop. Jean’ll be there. He’s... not the friendliest guy, but the store’s good."

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "Jean?"

Laila shrugged. "Bit of a recluse. But knows everything about weird folklore and obscure local history. You’ll see. Just don’t expect him to be chatty."

They didn’t rush. Jeremy lingered in the warmth of the kitchen a little longer, then followed Laila back down the hall to get dressed. The house felt a little more awake now, Hazel meandering between rooms, light filtering through the windows like it was trying to lift the mood.

As Laila pulled on a soft button-up over her tank top, she nodded toward the camera sitting on the nightstand. "Bring that with us? I want to drop it off at the shop to get the photos printed. I stayed up writing a small column for Roy’s story, I’ll hand that and the prints off to my editor while we’re there."

Jeremy nodded, slipping the strap over his shoulder. The camera felt heavier today.

They headed out not long after. Laila’s car was already warm from the sun, and the engine purred to life with a comforting hum. The town rolled out around them like a lazy painting, weathered buildings, colorful signs, streets wide and sun-soaked.

People waved when they passed. Some called out Laila’s name. A few leaned out of storefronts just to say hi.

At one stop, an older woman from a café patio waved so enthusiastically she nearly knocked over her iced tea. "Laila, darling! Who’s the new face?"

Jeremy found himself smiling awkwardly as Laila pulled him closer. "This is Jeremy," she said, proud. "He’s helping me out for a little while."

More smiles. More waves. A couple people even told him he was lucky to have landed in town.

Jeremy wasn’t sure if he believed that yet.

But the welcome was warm, and it helped. Even if the sky was still too grey.

Their first stop was the office of Laila’s editor, a small brick building tucked between a hair salon and a thrift shop. Inside, the air smelled like paper and old coffee, and the walls were lined with shelves full of archives and worn-out file folders.

Laila breezed in like she owned the place, greeting a couple staff members on the way to a small corner office. Her editor, sharp-eyed, half-laughing welcomed her with a hug and raised an eyebrow at Jeremy.

"New recruit?"

"Something like that," Laila said, setting her column and a thumb drive down on the desk. "Jeremy helped me shoot the scene out at Roy’s farm."

Jeremy shook hands with the editor, who asked a few easy questions about how he was liking town so far. The conversation stayed light, warm. They handed off the camera to the print staff to process the photos, and within fifteen minutes, Laila was stuffing the fresh prints into her satchel.

From there, they walked to the main square, the heart of the town. It was quiet but charming, brick-paved, with benches and old lamp posts strung with soft lights even in daylight. A large corkboard stood at one corner, covered in pinned-up ads, flyers, coupons, and bright scrawled signs.

Jeremy took it all in, scanning dog-walking offers and BBQ specials, local bands and missing pet notices.

Laila, on the other hand, went straight to scanning for anything strange, cryptic doodles, strange handwriting, flyers that mentioned sightings or rumors. Her eyes were sharp, focused.

She found a bare spot near the middle, took a fresh flyer from her satchel, and carefully pressed it into place dead center: “Seen Something Strange? Call or Write - We Believe You.”

She smoothed the corners, then stepped back, satisfied. Jeremy glanced at her, then back at the board.

Something about all the layers of paper made the space feel alive, buzzing quietly with stories waiting to be told.

Their next stop was the bookstore.

It was tucked into a quiet corner of the square, its painted sign faded but charming. The bell above the door jingled softly as they stepped inside, and the smell hit Jeremy instantly, paper, dust, and something faintly herbal.

The lighting was dim, the shelves tall and crammed with books stacked two or three deep. A small fan whirred in one corner, stirring the air just enough to rustle a few loose pages.

Behind the counter sat a tall, angular man in a plush, dark cardigan. His hair curled in waves around his temple and the nape of his neck, and his eyes were sharp as flint.

He looked at Laila first, then shifted his gaze to Jeremy.

"Did you find this stray in the sewers too?"

Jeremy blinked. "Uh-"

Laila burst out laughing, waving a hand in the air. "He’s referencing Hazel. We pulled her out of a flooded sewer a couple autumns ago. Jean’s idea of an inside joke."

Jean didn’t smile, but his mouth twitched slightly as he turned back to the thick book on the counter.

Jeremy wasn’t sure if he was more offended or intrigued.

Laila stepped forward, still smiling. "Got anything new in, Jean?"

Jean didn’t look up from his ledger. He just raised one hand and pointed vaguely toward a shelf halfway down the left-hand wall. "Have at it."

His tone was dry as the dust that settled in the store.

Laila led the way, weaving between the narrow shelves, and Jeremy followed, hyper-aware of Jean’s gaze lingering on his back as they passed.

The 'new in' section wasn’t marked, but Laila seemed to know where to go. She crouched beside a low shelf and started flipping through spines with quiet little hums and mutters of approval or disinterest.

Jeremy trailed his fingers along the edges of the books, pretending to browse. He’d never been much of a reader, too restless, too distracted but the rows of worn covers and faded gold titles were a good excuse not to make awkward conversation with a bookseller who looked like he might disapprove of the way Jeremy breathed.

He kept one eye on Laila and the other on the spines, letting the hush of the bookstore settle over him like dust.

The air smelled faintly of old pages and wood polish, and the dim lighting cast long shadows between the stacks. The space was cramped but full of life, boxes of books lined the walls, some half-opened, others still sealed. Piles sat like miniature towers in corners, waiting to be sorted, shelved, discovered.

Jeremy let his gaze drift again, past the shelves, past Laila’s crouched figure, toward the front of the shop.

Jean sat behind the counter, mostly obscured by a stack of ledgers and a heavy-looking book propped open in his lap. He hadn’t said another word, but Jeremy could feel the man’s presence like a pressure in the room.

From the corner of his eye, Jeremy studied him. The way he sat, shoulders slightly hunched, brow furrowed, eyes skimming the page like the words owed him something. There was something strangely cinematic about him. Brooding in a shadowy bookstore, all sharp angles and unreadable silences.

Jeremy looked away quickly, but not before the thought crossed his mind: he made a good picture.

He moved further down the aisle, letting his fingers skim the spines until he found a section on folktales labeled in fading ink. Curious, he pulled a slim volume free and began flipping through it.

The pages were yellowed, filled with sketches and hand-typed notes about old sightings and urban legends. Jeremy scanned through a few pages, glowing eyes in cornfields, strange figures on rooftops, rumors of spirits tied to oil fields and sunken mines. None of them looked like what he’d seen in the photo. None felt quite right.

Laila hadn’t seen the photos yet. He hadn’t brought it up. Part of him didn’t want to, not yet.

A sudden shiver crawled down his spine. It was like someone had pulled the sun out of the sky.

He turned and nearly jumped.

Jean was standing behind him, silent and unreadable.

"You’re another one of those crazed fanatics," Jean said, his voice low and dry. "Where does Laila keep finding you people?"

Jeremy shut the book with a soft snap. He hadn’t even heard Jean approach.

Jean was taller up close. Prettier, too. His expression remained impassive, but he smelled faintly of cedarwood and something colder, like the soil after a downpour.

Jean tilted his head slightly. "Although I wouldn’t recommend poking your nose into things that do not concern you. You’re but a visitor to this town."

Jeremy opened his mouth to respond, but Laila appeared at his side like summoned smoke.

"Jean," she said with an exasperated sigh, "must you always be so dramatic? Don’t scare him off, I actually like this one."

Jean said nothing, simply returned to the counter without a word.

Jeremy blinked after him, trying to decide if he’d been warned, insulted, or something else entirely.

Laila let out a sigh and brushed her hands on her jeans. "Alright. I’m done here."

She plucked a folded copy of the town newspaper from a low wooden tray near the register, tucked it under her arm, and made her way to the counter. Jean rang her up without another word, movements quiet and practiced, his eyes never straying back to Jeremy.

Jeremy lingered a little behind, unsure of what to say, if there was anything to say at all.

As they stepped out of the shop, the bell above the door chiming softly, Jeremy turned back for one last glance.

But Jean was gone. The counter was empty. The book he’d been reading was closed.

Jeremy stood in the doorway for a heartbeat longer, brow furrowed.

Then Laila tugged his sleeve gently, and they moved on into the square.

But the unease stayed with him.

Jeremy didn’t say anything as they walked, but the memory looped in his head, Jean’s voice low and sharp behind him, the unexpected nearness, the way his words felt like both a warning and something more. He could still feel the weight of Jean’s gaze, like it had settled into his shoulders and wouldn’t quite let go.

Laila didn’t seem to notice his distraction. She led him to the grocers and handed him a basket, chatting about dinner plans and asking what kind of food he liked. Jeremy blinked and tried to focus.

"Um, whatever’s easy," he muttered. "I’m not picky."

She gave him a look. "You’re allowed to have favorites, Jeremy. We’re not running a military operation."

He managed a small smile, letting the rhythm of the shopping calm him. They moved through the narrow aisles, Laila grabbing herbs and rice and canned tomatoes while Jeremy trailed behind with the basket.

Once they’d loaded up the essentials, they paid and stepped back out into the muted light. The bags were full but manageable. Laila split the weight evenly, handing Jeremy two before hoisting the rest over her shoulder.

Together, they made their way back to the car, the bags rustling softly between them.

They headed home without incident, the drive quiet but not uncomfortable. The sky stayed heavy and grey, but the rain never came.

Once inside, they slipped into the familiar rhythm of putting away groceries. Laila moved easily through the kitchen while Jeremy hovered, unsure where anything went.

He held up a tin of beans. "Pantry?"

"Bottom shelf, left side," Laila said without looking.

He grabbed a jar next. "Fridge?"

"Middle shelf, door."

She wasn’t annoyed, just steady, her answers coming with practiced ease. Jeremy fell into step beside her, item by item, finding his way through the quiet domesticity like someone learning a new language. There was something grounding in the simplicity of it, even if the weight of the day still tugged at the back of his thoughts.

Hazel padded into the kitchen just as they were finishing up, winding herself around Jeremy’s legs like she’d been waiting for the right moment. He smiled and bent to scoop her up, cradling her in his arms as she settled with a soft, satisfied purr.

Laila rinsed the last of the vegetables and dried her hands on a towel. "Want to go through the photos? I didn’t get a chance to really look yet."

Jeremy nodded, and they moved to the living room. Hazel remained in his arms, her head nestled against his chest like a purring loaf.

Laila set up her laptop and clicked through the folder of processed shots. Most were what she expected, clear shots of the field, Roy’s goats, Cat crouched beside them, Jeremy’s quieter candid shots of the farmhouse and tree line.

Then she paused.

Her fingers stilled on the trackpad.

On the screen was a photo of the treeline. Slightly blurred. But unmistakable. A shape, low, dark, hunched. Half-shrouded in the brush.

She leaned in.

"Jeremy," she said slowly, "did you see this when you took it?"

Jeremy leaned forward, Hazel still nestled in his arms. "No. I- I was just snapping shots. I didn’t even realize there was something there."

Laila didn’t answer right away. She clicked back to the photo, zoomed in, sharpened the contrast slightly. The blur didn’t become any clearer, but it definitely wasn’t just a shadow. It had shape. Form. Intent.

Her eyes lit up.

"This... this could actually be something," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "It’s not just a smudge, it’s- it’s crouched. And look at the distance from the edge of the woods, it would’ve had to move silently. That’s not easy with dry grass."

She clicked through more of the photos, flipping between shots before and after the one in question.

"Nothing else in frame, nothing in motion blur. Whatever this was, it was there, and only there."

She turned back to Jeremy, practically vibrating with excitement. "This could be worth following up. Seriously. The Roy farm case might actually turn into something. We should go back. Maybe even stake it out again. Get a trail camera out there."

Hazel shifted in his lap, sensing the energy in the room. Jeremy said nothing for a moment, watching Laila’s eyes shine.

"You think it’s... real?" he asked.

Laila smiled, not entirely playful. "I think we’ve got just enough to ask more questions. And that’s the best place to start."

She clicked out of the photos and grabbed a notebook from the edge of the table, flipping to a fresh page. Her pen moved quickly as she jotted down a few bullet points.

"We should go out this afternoon," she said, half-thinking aloud. "Check the woods again before the sun sets. No stakeout this time, just a look around. Maybe we’ll find something we missed, tracks, broken branches, claw marks, anything."

Jeremy watched her scribble, her excitement contagious even as unease flickered under his skin. Hazel had gone still in his lap again, eyes half-lidded but alert.

"We won’t go too deep," Laila added, sensing his hesitation. "Just to the edge. We’ll take flashlights, just in case."

Jeremy nodded slowly. "Yeah. Okay."

Laila looked up, eyes warm but sharp. "If there’s something to this, we’ll find it."

Laila pulled out her phone and stepped into the next room to call Roy, letting him know they’d be stopping by again that afternoon. Jeremy could hear her friendly voice drifting through the hallway, calm and confident as ever.

When she returned, they got to work packing up. With Cat at the garage, Jeremy felt the full weight of being the assistant this time around, lugging bags to the car, making sure the gear was zipped, checking batteries and backups.

"You're doing great," Laila called, grinning over the hood of the car as she shoved a backpack into the trunk. "Very assistant-coded."

Jeremy snorted, but didn’t argue.

Once they were finally loaded up and buckled in, Laila tossed something across the seat. Jeremy caught it awkwardly against his chest.

It was a flimsy, folded brochure printed on pastel paper. The cover read: A Beginner’s Guide to the Paranormal: Chupacabra Edition by Laila Dermott.

He blinked. "You wrote this?"

"Damn right I did," she said, revving the engine. "It’s a hit at local fairs. Check out page three, it has the goat part diagrammed."

Jeremy flipped it open. His legs bounced in his seat, nerves humming, but something about reading her work, her strange, enthusiastic, totally unapologetic voice on paper, soothed him. It gave shape to the unknown.

Laila talked the whole way there. Not just about chupacabras, but about old sightings and conspiracy theories, about the time she and Cat accidentally staked out the wrong farm all night and ended up frightening the farmer and his wife in the morning, about her high school journalism teacher who told her this was a waste of time.

Jeremy found himself smiling without realising. She was so full of life, of belief, of energy that didn’t burn you, just warmed you up.

And he was, very suddenly, very fond of her.

As the road stretched out ahead of them, the fields swaying gently in the breeze, Jeremy’s mind drifted. He thought about the last two days, how quickly things had shifted since his car gave out under the heat and he stumbled, sunburned and aimless, into this strange little town.

Laila, with her sharp mind and her steady hands, chasing shadows like they mattered. There was a kind of power in how firmly she planted her feet in the unknown. No apology, no hesitation. Just belief, and the tools to follow it.

And Cat. Cat who could’ve laughed him off or shut him out. But instead, she’d picked him up off the side of the road, tossed him an extra helmet, and brought him home. She’d trusted him with Laila. Trusted Laila to look after herself, too.

They’d slotted him into their lives like he’d always been meant to be there.

It was strange, how natural it felt. Easy in a way things rarely were. He hadn’t had that back home. Not in school, where he was too quiet. Not in college, where he drifted between people like a ghost. Not even at home-home, where the walls had always felt a little too tight.

But here- he fit.

Chapter Text

They arrived at Roy’s ranch in the late afternoon, when the sun was still warm on their backs but already beginning its slow descent toward the horizon. The air smelled of hay and dust and something a little more sour, the lingering memory of death still settled into the soil.

Roy was waiting by the fence when they pulled up, arms crossed but face relaxed. "You sure about this?" he asked as Laila stepped out

"Just a quick look," she said with a reassuring smile. "Won’t go very far."

Jeremy followed her out of the car, squinting against the light. Everything looked normal, but the silence between the animals was louder than he remembered. A stillness pressed in from the woods like it was watching them approach.

Roy gave a nod and gestured toward the field. "Sun starts dropping fast around here. Keep to the edge, alright?"

He hesitated a moment, then added, "Other ranchers’ve been talking too. Not just me. Wild animal attacks, more than usual. They’ve started bringing the animals in, sheltering them overnight. Even then... some mornings they find the doors busted open."

Jeremy frowned. "You think it’s the same thing?"

Roy’s mouth pressed into a thin line. "Don’t know. But it’s smart. Real smart. Like it knows how locks work. Knows how to avoid being seen too. Whatever it is... it’s not just hungry. It’s hunting."

Roy and Jeremy exchanged a glance, unease flickering between them like a static charge.

Jeremy felt it settle into his chest like a weight. The idea of something lurking in the woods was one thing, an animal, maybe even a cryptid but something intelligent? That chilled him in a way he hadn’t been prepared for.

But beside him, Laila’s eyes sparked.

She turned toward the tree line, shoulders square, voice bright with interest. "That’s incredible," she murmured. "If it’s real, if this thing’s thinking the way people do, that changes everything."

Jeremy watched her, caught between awe and dread. She was vibrating with excitement, her notebook already halfway out of her bag, pen tucked behind her ear. For her, this was gold. For him, it was starting to feel like the ground was shifting beneath his feet.

He glanced once more toward the woods, then followed her in.

They stuck to the trail at first, careful to step where the earth had already been packed down. Laila took the lead, moving with purpose, and every few dozen paces, she tied a bright ribbon to a tree branch, a marker, a way back. Jeremy didn’t realize how tightly he was gripping the flashlight until his knuckles began to ache.

He was grateful, more than he could say, that Laila knew what she was doing. That she wasn’t just chasing stories but had experience, had instinct. The woods weren’t friendly today. They were dense and tall and hungrier than they should’ve been.

The deeper they went, the more the light seemed to vanish. What had been late afternoon sunlight at the field’s edge dimmed into an eerie, unnatural gloom. Jeremy glanced up but could barely see the sky through the canopy.

And then there was the cold.

Not wind, just a slow, creeping drop in temperature that raised the hairs on Jeremy’s arms. It wasn’t right for the season, wasn’t right for the hour.

He shivered and stepped closer to Laila, who barely seemed to notice.

"Just a little farther," she said, voice hushed with wonder. "Something’s out here. I can feel it."

It didn’t take long before they found the first sign.

A gouge in a tree, deep and deliberate, four parallel slashes that tore through bark and into raw wood. Laila crouched beside it, brushing her fingers lightly along the edge.

Jeremy looked ahead, and froze.

There were more marks. Not just one tree, but a line of them, like a trail. And scattered between the trunks were bones. Stripped clean, yellowed and cracked. Some fresh, some old. A sickening progression.

Then came the smell, metallic and sharp. Blood.

Jeremy’s stomach turned. He swallowed hard as Laila moved ahead, crouching again where something dark and sticky glistened in the underbrush.

"God," she whispered, covering her mouth. "That’s... fresh."

There was a carcass tucked against the roots of a tree, barely recognizable, ribcage exposed, limbs twisted. And beyond it, another. And another.

Jeremy backed up a step. "Is this… normal?"

Laila didn’t answer right away.

She stood slowly, shaking her head. Her voice was tight. "No. This… this isn’t an animal eating normally. This is a mess. It’s eating for fun. This is disgusting ."

Even she sounded unnerved. And that was worse than anything else.

Jeremy gripped the flashlight tighter. The shadows were deeper here. And they weren’t alone. The forest went silent around them. 

The sound came like thunder cracking through trees.

A crash, low to the ground, but heavy. Then another. The snap of branches under something massive.

Jeremy spun around, flashlight swinging wildly, and caught the edge of a shape. Too big, too fast. Covered in shadow.

Laila screamed. "Run!"

They bolted.

The forest erupted around them, birds shrieked into the air, leaves whipped like paper, and something snarled behind them, guttural and close.

Jeremy didn’t look back. He couldn’t. Every inch of his body screamed to move.

Branches clawed at their clothes. Roots threatened to trip them with every desperate step. Laila was ahead, yelling his name, but the sound was drowned by another crash, another growl, right behind him.

The creature didn’t charge like an animal. Jerking between trees, slow enough to drive panic sharp into their spines, fast enough to stay just behind them, herding them deeper into the woods. It was playing with them. 

Jeremy saw a flash of yellow eyes through the trees. Too high for a wolf. Too fluid for a bear.

He didn’t know what it was. But it was real. And it wanted them dead.

Jeremy’s breath was ragged, every inhale a rasp. He followed the sound of Laila’s footsteps, kept his eyes forward, until the ground vanished under him.

His foot snagged on a root. His body twisted midair. The flashlight flew from his hand and skidded across the forest floor, snapping off. His phone slammed into a rock, screen cracking, the battery flinging free into the dark.

He hit the ground hard, air ripped from his lungs.

"Jeremy!" Laila’s voice was far, too far.

He scrambled to his knees, hands shaking, eyes wide in the black. The woods pressed in from all sides. He looked for Laila’s trail markers, neon ribbons tied to tree branches but everything looked the same. Just dark. Just trees.

"I’m here!" he croaked, voice catching.

The air dropped. Cold as breath on glass.

Jeremy stilled.

It was close.

He clutched the broken pieces of his phone to his chest, heart hammering, and the silence grew thick and dense. He could hear it circling. A low growl, a smile in the sound.

And then, footsteps. Not the creature’s. Light and running.

Laila burst through the trees, hair wild, eyes wide. She dropped to her knees beside him. "I’ve got you," she whispered, grabbing his arm. "We’ve got to move-"

But Jeremy was frozen.

He could feel it just beyond them. Watching.

And for a breath, he believed this was the end.

But nothing happened.

No teeth. No claws. No scream.

Only silence.

Jeremy’s breath hitched. His body trembled, caught in the moment that never came. The growl was gone. The cold still lingered but something else had shifted.

Laila’s grip on his arm went slack.

He turned his head slightly, expecting to see her fear or panic but her eyes were wide in a different way. Her mouth slightly open.

She was staring at something behind him.

Jeremy’s limbs were like water, slow and shaking, but he forced himself to turn.

And there it was.

Not the creature that had hunted them but something else. Between them and the shadows stood a figure low to the ground, broad-shouldered and still.

A dog?

No.

A wolf was the closest descriptor. And in the back of Jeremy’s mind he recalled a teacher in highschool telling the class there were no wild wolves roaming in Texas, and that the re-introduction of Mexican wolves had failed. But that was the most accurate word for the beast standing in front of them. 

Massive and silent, its coat darker than the night around them, eyes catching what little light filtered through the trees.

It stood between them and the beast. Protecting. Unmoving.

And for the first time since the chase began, the woods were quiet again.

Only for a moment.

The creature lunged.

A blur of shadow and muscle hurtled toward the wolf but the wolf didn’t move, didn’t flinch. It met the charge head-on, snarling with a sound so low and guttural it rattled Jeremy’s ribs.

Teeth clashed. The two beasts collided in a violent blur, but the wolf didn’t give ground. It struck fast, sure-footed, a thing carved from instinct and fury. The creature reeled, surprised, stumbling back.

Jeremy and Laila didn’t move. Couldn’t.

They watched as the fight tipped, the dark mass that had stalked them backing off, its growls turning from rage to something almost uncertain.

Then it fled.

Not defeated, not hurt, but unwilling. As if it hadn’t expected a fight.

The wolf stood still for a long second. Then it turned its head toward them.

Its eyes were sharp. Ancient. Too knowing.

And then -Jeremy swore- it scoffed.

A sharp exhale through the nose, like it was disappointed. Like it couldn’t believe they were still standing there like idiots.

Jeremy blinked.

Laila whispered, "Did that wolf just-"

"Yeah," Jeremy said, voice hoarse. "I think it did."

They didn’t wait for another sign.

Laila tugged his sleeve, and Jeremy stumbled after her. They didn’t run but moved with purpose, the forest still pressing in on all sides.

The wolf didn’t move. Didn’t follow.

It stood there like a sentinel, as if letting them go. As if this time, it would allow them to leave.

They broke through the treeline just as the sun dipped low, casting a golden haze over the fields and farmhouse. The moment Jeremy stepped into the open, the chill that had sunk into his bones seemed to lift. The warmth touched his skin, thawing him from the inside out.

He gasped like he hadn’t breathed in hours.

Beside him, Laila staggered to a stop, hands on her knees, catching her breath.

"We’re okay," she murmured. "We’re okay."

Jeremy nodded, but something inside him still trembled.

He turned once, back toward the woods.

There was no sign of movement. No flash of fur or gleam of eyes.

But he felt it.

That gaze.

Heavy. Watchful.

Somewhere in the shadows, the wolf still stood. Watching. Waiting.

They didn’t speak as they walked back toward the car, the crunch of grass beneath their shoes the only sound between them. Laila still clutched her notebook to her chest like a lifeline, and Jeremy dragged one foot a little behind the other, the weight of everything sinking slowly into his limbs.

By the time they reached the car, the horizon had slipped behind a bank of clouds. The golden light had dimmed to soft gray, the kind that blurred edges and left the world looking just a little unreal. Laila unlocked the doors with a shaky hand.

Neither of them turned the engine on right away.

Jeremy sat stiff in the passenger seat, hands braced against his knees. He still felt that gaze on him, the phantom pressure of it like a second skin. The forest was far behind them now, but it didn’t feel gone. It felt like it had followed.

Laila let out a long breath, scrubbing her hands over her face before finally saying, “That wasn’t any cryptid I’ve ever read about.”

Jeremy gave a small, humorless laugh. “You think?”

She glanced over at him, tired and alive and flushed with leftover adrenaline. “I mean it. I’ve been researching things in these woods for years. Nothing has ever come that close to killing me.”

Jeremy didn’t respond. He didn’t have the right words for the creature that had stalked them, or the wolf that had saved them. None of it made sense. None of it felt real. And yet, every muscle in his body still ached with the truth of it.

“Was it protecting us?” he asked, finally.

Laila was quiet. Then, “I think so.”

Jeremy nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the dark line of the woods in the rearview mirror. The shadows didn’t move. But still, they watched.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

And this time, Laila didn’t argue.

The drive back was quiet.

Laila kept both hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead, while Jeremy sat beside her, his body curled inwards, like if he folded small enough the fear would spill out and leave him clean. The trees thinned. The town lights bloomed soft in the distance. The car’s tires hummed a steady rhythm against the road, something grounding to anchor the pulse still hammering in his throat.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, dusk had folded in fully. The porch light was on.

Cat was already outside.

She stood on the steps, arms crossed, dressed in loose joggers and an oversized T-shirt, hair damp like she’d just gotten out of the shower. Her face was unreadable, but the second the car door creaked open, she was moving.

Laila barely stepped out before Cat met her halfway, cupping her face, brushing trembling thumbs under her eyes. “What the hell happened?” she asked, voice low, urgent.

Laila shook her head. “Later. Just, hug me first.”

Cat pulled her in tight, like she meant to shield her from everything in the world. Jeremy stood a few feet away, unsure where to look, but grateful just the same.

Cat turned to him next, eyes flicking over his hunched form, the dirt on his shirt, the busted scrape along his elbow. She didn’t ask for permission, just stepped in and wrapped her arms around him too.

“You look like shit,” she muttered against his shoulder.

Jeremy huffed a breath that almost became a laugh. “Feel worse.”

“C’mon. Inside.”

She herded them both in like they were lost kids returning from the woods and maybe, in a way, they were.

The house was warm. Lit softly from a single lamp in the living room. Hazel yawned on the back of the couch, tail twitching like she knew something strange had happened but couldn’t quite place it.

Laila collapsed into the nearest chair. Jeremy lowered himself onto the edge of the couch, arms slack in his lap. Cat moved into the kitchen without asking and returned with sweet tea, setting glasses down in front of each of them. She handed Jeremy a damp cloth for his elbow, which he took with shaking fingers.

Laila met Cat’s eyes.

“We saw it,” she said.

Cat stilled.

Jeremy whispered, “And something saw us.”

The house creaked softly in the evening heat, the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead. Jeremy pressed the cold glass of tea against his forehead, trying to will the shaking from his limbs. It didn’t work.

Cat sat cross-legged on the arm of Laila’s chair, one hand resting lightly on Laila’s shoulder, anchoring her. “Start from the beginning,” she said quietly.

Laila nodded, fingers tapping nervously on her glass. “We found the trails,” she said. “The scratches on the trees. Blood. Bones. It was worse than anything I’ve ever seen.”

Cat’s brow furrowed. “Worse how?”

“It wasn’t just hunting. It wasn’t eating to survive,” Laila said, her voice dropping low. “It was... messy. Cruel. It was killing because it could.”

Jeremy shivered. The images wouldn’t leave him, the mangled carcasses, the metallic stench.

“And then it came after us,” Laila continued. She squeezed her hands together to stop them from shaking. “Fast. Smart. It herded us like prey.”

Jeremy swallowed hard. “It was playing with us.”

Cat’s gaze sharpened, flicking between the two of them. “And the wolf?”

Laila hesitated, glancing at Jeremy like she wasn’t sure how to explain it. “It was... there. When we couldn’t run anymore. Standing between us and that thing. Like it was waiting for it.”

Jeremy set the water down with a soft clink. “It fought it off. Like it was protecting us.”

Cat raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “A wolf just... showed up? In Texas county?”

Jeremy nodded, slow. “It didn’t feel normal. It didn’t feel like… like anything natural.”

Laila ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the messy braid. “It was big, Cat. Bigger than any wolf should be. And it looked at us like-” she stopped, searching for the right word, “-like it knew us.”

Cat was silent for a long moment, absorbing it all. The fan above them whirred, a soft hush against the heavy air.

Finally, Laila broke the silence, “We need to figure out what that thing was. Both of them.”

Jeremy leaned back into the couch, his body aching. “And if it comes back?”

Her eyes were steady. “Then we’ll be ready.”

Hazel hopped down from the couch back and curled up between them, her tail wrapping neatly around Jeremy’s knee. It was the only part of the world that still felt normal.

They sat there, the three of them, bruised and shaken and stubbornly alive, while the shadows outside the windows grew longer.

Somewhere deep in the woods, something still watched.

And something else, something ancient, kept it at bay.

They migrated to the kitchen after a while, dragging notebooks and battered old library books out from the shelves, piling them high around the table. Laila brewed a fresh pot of coffee, the rich scent curling through the house, but Jeremy barely touched his cup.

He sat slumped over the table, blinking blearily at the pages in front of him. Hazel twined around his legs before settling by his chair, her body a soft, steady warmth against him.

Cat rifled through a stack of old folklore books with the kind of determination Jeremy had only seen from mechanics mid-repair. She stabbed her finger at one worn page. "I’m telling you, werewolves."

Laila laughed softly, setting another open book between them. "Real werewolves don’t look like that. Most of the legends have them closer to wolves than giant monsters."

Cat leaned her elbow on the table and grinned. "Who says it can’t be both?"

Jeremy tried to focus, tried to read the spidery handwritten notes Laila had compiled on Texan legends, but the words blurred and doubled. His eyes stung and burned, each blink longer than the last. His body was heavy with exhaustion, but the low murmur of Cat and Laila’s voices wrapped around him like a quilt.

"We have the messy kills," Laila said, tapping her pen thoughtfully against her lip. "The ability to break into shelters, maybe even open locks."

"And," Cat chimed in, "creepy yellow eyes."

Jeremy hummed faintly under his breath, not sure if he was agreeing or simply acknowledging the sound of their voices. The chair creaked as he shifted, trying to stay upright.

Outside, the sun had vanished completely, leaving only the pale wash of twilight and the occasional flicker of a bird darting past the open kitchen window. The air smelled like nightfall and something sweet, maybe the neighbors’ jasmine vines opening in the cool.

Hazel pressed closer to his leg, purring low.

The last thing Jeremy heard was Laila laughing quietly at something Cat said, her voice light and sure, and then everything blurred away into the soft, safe darkness of sleep.