Beneath The Trees

The Smell of Blood

Mason woke to the sharp, metallic scent of blood. It was immediate, filling his senses before he was even fully conscious. He blinked, disoriented, his mind struggling to understand what he was smelling. He turned his head, the early morning light filtering through the tent's fabric, casting everything in a dull, grayish hue.

Tyler was still asleep beside him, his face peaceful. Mason pushed himself up onto his elbows, his nose wrinkling at the acrid smell. It was stronger now, more distinct, the coppery tang unmistakable. He frowned, unzipping the tent slowly and poking his head out.

The clearing was empty, the fire nothing more than a pile of ash. The air was cold, the sky above a pale blue, the sun just beginning to rise. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head, but the smell of blood lingered, thick and nauseating.

Mason stepped out of the tent, the grass crunching under his feet as he moved toward the center of the clearing. His eyes scanned the ground, looking for anything that could explain the smell. The unease from the night before returned full force, settling like a weight in his chest. He felt exposed, vulnerable, the clearing suddenly too wide, too open.

He turned toward the other tent, where Robert and Elaine were sleeping. He hesitated, then moved closer, his heart pounding harder with each step. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the flap, when he heard it—a soft rustling from the edge of the clearing.

He froze, his head snapping up, his eyes locking onto the treeline. The shadows there seemed deeper, darker, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. He took a step back, his pulse echoing in his ears. The smell of blood was overwhelming now, each breath feeling thick and cloying.

"Robert?" he called, his voice barely louder than a whisper. There was no response, just the rustle of the wind and the distant creak of branches.

Panic began to build in his chest, his mind racing. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He turned back to Tyler, still asleep in the tent, oblivious to the growing sense of dread that was consuming Mason.

"Tyler," Mason said, his voice trembling. He crouched down, shaking Tyler's shoulder. "Tyler, wake up."

Tyler groaned, his eyes fluttering open, his expression groggy. "What... what is it?"

"Something's not right," Mason whispered, his eyes darting to the treeline. "I think... I think we need to leave."

Tyler blinked, confusion clouding his features. "What are you talking about? It's barely morning."

Mason opened his mouth to respond, but then he heard it—a low, guttural sound coming from the woods. A sound that sent ice through his veins. He turned his head slowly, his eyes widening as he stared into the dark forest.

Something was out there.

Something that didn't belong.

The growl echoed again, more distinct this time, rising from the shadows with an animalistic edge. Mason's heart pounded harder, adrenaline surging through his veins. He pulled Tyler's arm, trying to get him out of the tent. "Tyler, get up. We need to go. Now."

Tyler sat up, rubbing his eyes, still half in a daze. "Mason, calm down, it's probably just a deer or something."

"No." Mason shook his head, eyes fixed on the darkness at the edge of the clearing. "It's not... It's not a deer, Tyler."

A shape moved—a flicker between the trees, too large, too deliberate. Mason's breath caught in his throat, the hair on his arms standing on end. The forest seemed to exhale, a rush of cold air that made him shiver uncontrollably. The smell of blood was even stronger now, thick and choking, and there was a part of Mason that knew it wasn't just some animal.

Tyler finally registered the urgency in Mason's voice, the fear in his eyes. He nodded, moving to grab his shoes. Mason was already pulling on his boots, his eyes never leaving the treeline. He couldn't shake the feeling that if he looked away, whatever was out there would take that as a sign—a signal to move closer.

A sudden scream cut through the air—sharp, shrill, and horrifying. It came from the other tent. Elaine.

Mason's heart lurched, and he bolted out of the tent, stumbling toward the larger family tent. "Elaine! Robert!" he shouted, his voice cracking with panic. He reached the tent, his hands fumbling with the zipper, the material cold under his fingers. He yanked it open, the flap flying back.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Robert was sprawled on the ground, his face twisted in pain, eyes wide open and unseeing. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the dirt. Elaine was huddled in the corner, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror, her hands trembling as she held them to her mouth.

Mason's knees nearly buckled. He turned to Elaine, his voice barely a whisper. "Elaine..."

She looked at him, tears streaming down her face. "It came out of nowhere," she choked out, her voice cracking. "I... I didn't see it. It was so fast."

Mason glanced around, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. He could hear Tyler approaching behind him, his fiancé's voice calling his name. But all Mason could think of was that they needed to leave. Now. Whatever had done this—whatever had taken Robert—was still out there.

He turned to Tyler, his face pale, his eyes wide. "We have to go," he said, his voice trembling. "We have to go now."

Tyler stared at his father's body, his face a mask of shock. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"Tyler!" Mason shouted, snapping him out of his daze. "We have to go!"

Tyler nodded slowly, his eyes flicking to his mother. Mason grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the tent. Elaine followed, her legs shaky, her breaths coming in short, panicked gasps.

They ran, their footsteps pounding against the ground, the cold morning air biting at their faces. The clearing fell away behind them, the trees swallowing them whole. The forest loomed around them, dark and oppressive, and Mason felt the weight of it pressing down on them, as if the woods themselves were alive, watching, waiting.

The guttural growl sounded again, closer now, reverberating through the trees. Mason didn't look back. He couldn't. He just kept running, his hand clamped around Tyler's, the only thought in his mind: escape.

The forest was a maze, the trees a blur as they stumbled through the underbrush. Branches snagged at their clothes, the ground uneven beneath their feet. The smell of blood lingered, the memory of Robert's lifeless eyes burning in Mason's mind.

Something was out there, chasing them, something ancient and hungry.

And Mason knew, deep in his bones, that it wouldn't stop until it had them all.