Brandon and his hunting crew were deep in the backcountry, packing out elk meat under the cover of night. It was 12:30 AM—pitch black, the kind of darkness that feels alive. Fires crackled around them, their smoke thick and choking, swirling like phantoms through the trees. Visibility was near zero.
Then they saw them.
Two red, beady eyes—unblinking, fixed, and low to the ground—pierced through the smoke. Watching. Waiting. The forest fell silent. No wind. No bugs. Just the fire, the smoke, and those eyes.
There was only one way out… and it was straight through whatever was staring them down.