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The forest was unusually quiet that night.
A soft wind moved through the tall pine trees, carrying the cool scent of sap and damp soil across the Vexler cabin. The moon hung high above the woods, glowing pale silver through the branches. Inside the cabin, the fireplace had long since burned low, leaving only a faint orange glow and the occasional crackle of a dying ember.
It was around 11 p.m.
Most nights, the Vexler brothers were still awake around this time. Cole would usually be talking—about hunting, about trees that needed cutting, about the wolves he was training, about absolutely anything that came to mind. Larry would sit nearby, quiet as always, sometimes pretending to listen and sometimes clearly not.
But tonight the cabin was silent.
Cole slept in his bed near the window, his fluffy white tail draped over the edge of the mattress. The faint moonlight lit the room just enough to show the outlines of his horns and the messy strands of his light brown hair. His axe leaned against the wall beside his bed, where he always kept it.
At first, his sleep was calm.
Then the dream began.
In the dream, Cole stood in the forest. The sky above was gray and foggy, and the air felt wrong—too still, too heavy. The trees around him stretched tall and crooked, their branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers.
“Larry?” Cole called.
His voice echoed strangely through the fog.
No answer.
He walked forward, boots crunching softly on fallen needles. The deeper he went into the woods, the darker everything became. Even the moonlight seemed to fade away.
“Larry!” he called again, louder.
Still nothing.
Then he heard something.
A faint buzzing sound.
At first it was distant. Then it grew louder.
The unmistakable sound of a chainsaw.
Cole’s ears perked and he turned quickly toward the noise. “Larry! There you are!”
He pushed through the fog, heart racing with relief. But the deeper he ran, the stranger everything looked. The trees leaned at unnatural angles. The ground sloped downward into shadows that didn’t belong there.
The chainsaw suddenly stopped.
The silence that followed felt suffocating.
Cole slowed his pace.
“Larry…?”
He stepped into a small clearing.
And froze.
Someone was lying on the ground.
A familiar blue-black plaid shirt.
Black hair.
A fluffyblack tail resting motionless against the dirt.
Larry.
Cole’s stomach dropped.
“L-Larry…?”
He ran forward, dropping to his knees beside his brother. The chainsaw lay nearby, silent in the grass.
Larry didn’t move.
“Hey… hey, get up,” Cole said quickly, his voice shaking. “Quit messin’ around.”
No response.
Cole reached out with trembling hands.
The moment he touched Larry’s shoulder—
BANG.
The sound exploded through the clearing like thunder. Cole flinched violently.
The world around him shattered like glass.
And suddenly—
Cole woke up.
He sat straight up in bed, gasping.
His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe. Sweat clung to his forehead, and his hands shook uncontrollably. For a moment he didn’t move.
The cabin was quiet.
Too quiet.
Cole pressed his palms against his face, trying to steady himself.
“It was just a dream,” he muttered quickly. His voice came out shaky. “Yeah… yeah, just a stupid dream.”
His tail twitched nervously as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Larry was fine.
Of course he was fine.
Larry was probably in his room sleeping like a rock like he always did.
Cole stood up too fast and nearly stumbled. “Just a bad dream,” he said again, as if repeating it would make it true. He rushed out of his room.
The hallway felt colder than usual. The wooden floor creaked under his boots as he hurried toward the door at the end of the hall.
Larry’s room.
Cole didn’t even knock.
He shoved the door open.
“Larry, you won’t believe the dumb dream I just—”
He stopped.
The room was dark.
Empty.
Larry’s bed was untouched.
The blanket was folded the same way it had been for about 2 weeks.
The chainsaw that Larry usually kept leaning against the wall was gone.
Cole stood in the doorway, frozen.
For a moment, his mind refused to understand what he was seeing.
“…Larry?”
His voice was quiet now.
He stepped into the room slowly.
“Quit messin’ around.”
Nothing.
The silence pressed against his ears. Cole looked around the room desperately, as if Larry might suddenly appear from behind the door or from under the bed.
But the room stayed empty.
And that was when the memory hit him.
Not the dream.
The real memory.
The sound of the gunshot earlier that day.
The shouting.
The confusion.
Bluey’s horrified voice saying it was an accident.
Larry collapsing.
The forest suddenly felt colder than it ever had before.
Cole’s breathing became uneven.
“No…” he whispered.
His legs gave out and he sank down onto Larry’s bed. “No, no, no…”
His hands gripped the blanket tightly.
For a moment he just stared at the empty space where his brother should have been.
Then the shaking started.
It spread through his arms, his shoulders, his entire body. Cole hunched forward, pressing his hands against his face.
“I… I forgot…”
His voice cracked.
Hot tears slipped through his fingers.
“I forgot…”
The nightmare hadn’t been a dream.
It had been his memory trying to remind him of something his mind didn’t want to accept. Larry wasn’t coming back. The realization hit him all over again like a falling tree.
Cole let out a broken sob.
He tried to hold it in—tried to stay strong like he always did—but it was impossible.
His shoulders shook as he cried.
“Larry…”
The name came out barely louder than a whisper.
For years, it had always been the two of them.
Two brothers cutting trees.
Two hunters moving through the forest together.
Cole talking endlessly while Larry walked beside him, pretending not to listen.
Even when Larry ignored half of what Cole said, Cole had always known his brother was there.
Now the silence felt unbearable.
Cole wiped his eyes roughly, but more tears followed.
“You’re supposed to be here,” he choked.
His voice echoed weakly in the empty room.“You’re supposed to tell me to shut up when I talk too much…”
He gave a shaky laugh that quickly turned back into quiet sobbing.
The bed creaked softly as he leaned forward, gripping the edge of the mattress.
His fluffy tail curled tightly around his leg as if trying to comfort him.
“I didn’t even say goodbye,” Cole whispered.
Outside, the wind rustled the trees again. The forest kept moving. The world kept going.But inside the cabin, time felt frozen.
Cole stayed there for a long time, sitting in his brother’s empty room.
Crying.
Shaking.
Hoping—just for a moment—that Larry would walk through the door and tell him it was all just some stupid misunderstanding.
But the door never opened.
And deep down, Cole knew something that made the ache in his chest even worse.
Larry wasn’t in his room.
He wasn’t in the forest.
He wasn’t anywhere in the cabin.
Larry was gone.
And no matter how badly Cole wished it had only been a nightmare…
…he knew that his brother would never come back.