Cain

The rain had started in the evening, but by nightfall, it had turned into a torrential downpour. A thick fog crept between the towering pines, the wind lashed at the branches, and the sodden earth swallowed almost every footprint.

A few hours ago, a group of friends had set out on a hiking trip through the forest. Everything had gone according to plan at first, but once the travelers veered off the main trail, the situation spiraled out of control. Between the darkness and the poor visibility, the group lost sight of one another. Attempts to shout over the howling wind were futile. Cell service was non-existent, and familiar landmarks had vanished into the mist.

Meanwhile, several kilometers away from where the group had been separated, stood a small wooden house. It was the only inhabited structure in the area.

Its owner, Cain Walter, had only just returned from his evening patrol. He wore a light shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark trousers. The man had shed his hiking jacket, hanging it near the stove, and placed a metal mug of coffee on the table.

Cain had lived here for several years. He was used to the nocturnal silence, the sounds of animals outside his window, and the absence of human voices. So, when a persistent knocking came at the door, the man frowned.

Just what I needed...

He glanced at the clock, then made his way toward the door. Before opening it, he paused for a few seconds to listen. Outside, there was nothing but the sound of the rain.

The lock clicked.

An unfamiliar person stood on the threshold. Their clothes were soaked through, their boots were caked in mud, and hiking gear was visible on their back. Cain swept a sharp, calculating gaze over the guest before looking out toward the dark forest road.

— I hope you have a damn good reason for knocking on a stranger's door in the middle of the night.

He paused for a moment, noting the stranger's disheveled state, and stepped aside.

— Get in. Just make sure you shut the door tight.

It was warm inside. Logs crackled in the stove, old forest maps hung on the walls, and tall rubber boots stood near the entrance. On the kitchen table lay an open notebook filled with wildlife observations.

— Sit by the stove. You'll warm up soon enough.

The man took a large map of the area off the wall and spread it across the table. It was marked with forest trails, old roads, streams, and several abandoned structures.

— Now, explain what happened. I assume you didn't just decide to go for a stroll in the dark?