The Voice in the Clearing

My legs burned as I followed Daniel and Louise up the steep path. Nearly six miles into the walk, I was regretting my winter-long absence from the gym. I adjusted my rucksack straps, digging them deeper into my shoulders to balance the weight.

Elliot stopped beside me. He was breathing far more easily than I was.

"Still with us?"

"Barely," I admitted, wiping sweat from my forehead. "Your brother picked one hell of a spot."

Elliot looked up the rocky path. Daniel and Louise were about twenty metres ahead of us. Daniel had one hand against Louise's back as he helped her over a fallen tree. For a second, Elliot's expression changed. Whatever passed across his face seemed out of place on an old friends' camping weekend.

"Yeah," he said at last. "He always does."

The cool late-September sun filtered through the canopy, scattering pale patches of light across the path. A woodpecker hammered somewhere to our right, the sound carrying sharply between the trunks.

I had known Daniel Harper since a first-year halls allocation at a Scottish university had put us in the same room eight years earlier. After graduating, he had moved to Edinburgh for a marketing job while I settled in Manchester. We had kept in touch through regular calls and the occasional weekend visit, despite the distance between us.

Four months earlier, he had begun talking about this trip: a technology-free weekend wild camping in the Cairngorms, in remote woodland west of Rothiemurchus.

"Just us, like old times," he had said at first.

Then it became us plus his new girlfriend. After that, his brother joined the plan.

I did not mind. I had met Elliot several times when he visited Daniel at university. He was three years younger and quieter than his brother, but he possessed the same easy Harper charm when he chose to use it.

Louise Vane was the unknown quantity. Daniel had been seeing her for six months, but this was the first time I had met her.

Elliot and I trudged onwards, closing the distance to the others.

"So, what do you make of her?" I asked quietly.

"Of Louise?"

Elliot adjusted his rucksack without looking away from the path.

"I haven't decided yet."

Daniel's laugh carried back to us, loud and unguarded. He had always had the sort of laugh that made strangers turn and smile. Yet there was something fractionally wrong with it now, as if the timing had been copied rather than felt. Louise's reply was too soft to hear.

We reached the exposed rise where they were waiting. Daniel stood beaming at us, although his fair hair remained strangely dry despite the climb.

"There you are, you two. Look at this."

He swept one arm towards the view.

The path had opened on to a break in the trees. Beyond it, wooded slopes rolled away beneath the lowering sun, dark green fading to blue-grey in the distance.

"Worth the walk, isn't it?" Daniel asked. His eyes were bright with enthusiasm.

"Ask me when I can feel my shoulders again."

I smiled despite myself. The scale of the place was overwhelming: mile after mile of woodland and mountain, without a building or road in sight. There was not even a suggestion of civilisation.

Louise sat on a rock at the edge of the opening, retying one of her walking boots.

"How much farther?" she asked without looking up.

Even after the climb, she was not sweating.

"Half a mile at most," Daniel promised. "The spot is just beyond the burn."

"Thank God."

Louise stood and brushed dirt from her trousers.

"The midges are eating me alive."

Daniel took a small bottle from his pocket.

"Here. Use my repellent."

"I've already used mine."

She took his anyway and applied it to her bare forearms with quick, precise movements. Nothing wasted, nothing excessive.

We continued downhill towards the sound of running water. The path narrowed until we had to walk in single file. Daniel led, followed by Louise, then me, with Elliot bringing up the rear. Trees crowded us on both sides, their branches catching at our rucksacks. The smell of damp earth and rotting leaves filled the air.

After twenty minutes, we heard Allt Druidh. The sound strengthened until we pushed through a stand of birch and found the burn crossing our path. It was clear and shallow, perhaps five metres wide, with smooth stones visible beneath the rushing water.

Daniel did not hesitate. He stepped from rock to rock, then turned and beckoned us after him.

"Come on. Home sweet home is just up this bank."

Louise crossed next, her movements careful and steady. She never once wobbled on the wet stones. I followed, watching every footfall. Where the gaps were too wide, icy water splashed over my boots and ankles.

Elliot came across behind me as if he had done it a hundred times.

We climbed the short, steep bank on the other side. At the top, the trees opened around a patch of level ground carpeted with pine needles. It was sheltered by dense Scots pine and birch and large enough for our tents. A crude fire ring lined with stones showed that others had found it before us, although we had the place to ourselves.

"I told you it was perfect," Daniel said, dropping his rucksack and stretching his arms above his head. "Private, secluded and not a mobile signal in sight."

"I still don't understand why that's a selling point," Louise muttered.

She removed her rucksack and surveyed the clearing.

Daniel clapped his hands.

"Right, let's get everything set up before we lose the light. Elliot and Tom, can you collect firewood? Louise and I will do the tents."

Elliot nodded, and I followed him to the edge of the clearing. As soon as we were out of earshot, he spoke.

"Daniel met her through therapy."

I stared at him, trying to process that.

"What sort of therapy?"

"He won't say exactly. He told me they met through some kind of breakup support group and attended sessions together for a while."

Elliot picked up a thick fallen branch and tested it for damp before tucking it beneath his arm.

"They started seeing each other soon afterwards."

I gathered several smaller pieces and added them to his collection.

"Is that what's bothering you?"

His expression remained neutral, but his shoulders tightened.

"Who says anything is bothering me?"

"You've been watching them as if you're waiting for something to happen."

He sighed and shifted the wood in his arms.

"He's different with her. You must see it. The Daniel I know wouldn't plan a trip with no mobiles and no proper means of contact. He's always been cautious. Prepared. This off-grid business isn't him."

I considered that as we searched for more dry wood. Daniel had always been the responsible one at university: the designated driver, the man who made sure we had a sober route home. On the journey north that morning, however, he had forgotten the name of the pub where we had celebrated our graduation, although he had once described that night as the best of his life. When I reminded him, he had smiled a moment too late and repeated the name as though committing it to memory.

"People change," I said. "Maybe he's trying something new. Or perhaps she enjoys the outdoors."

Elliot gave a humourless laugh.

"Yes. You can tell she's having a marvellous time."

We returned with armfuls of kindling and larger branches. Daniel had erected half of two four-person tents, positioned opposite each other across the fire ring. Louise knelt beside a flat rock, unpacking food from a waterproof bag.

I placed the wood beside the stones, then helped Daniel with the tents, pushing pegs into the soft ground with the heel of my boot.

"Elliot tells me you met Louise in therapy."

I kept my voice casual as I drove in another peg.

Daniel stopped feeding a pole through its sleeve. He looked towards Louise, then back at me.

"He shouldn't have told you that."

"Is it a secret?"

"No. Just private." His voice softened. "But yes, we met through a group. We were both dealing with difficult breakups. She helped me through a rough patch."

The words sounded rehearsed. He looked towards Louise again, as if checking that he had delivered them correctly.

I nodded and did not press him. The tent took shape between us.

The light was fading by the time we finished. Daniel built the fire while Louise arranged the dinner supplies. Elliot found a place beside the burn where he could filter water into our bottles.

I watched the three people with whom I would spend the next three days in the middle of nowhere. Daniel was one of my oldest friends, yet something about him seemed altered here. Elliot was quiet and guarded. Louise was efficient, capable and perpetually dissatisfied.

"Nearly there," Daniel announced as the fire caught. Flames licked through the carefully arranged kindling. "It only needs a chance to build."

I crouched beside him, grateful for the warmth as the temperature fell.

"Good work. That old Scout training paid off."

He grinned.

"Some skills never leave you."

Once the fire was established, Daniel stood and wiped his hands on his trousers.

"Right. One final matter before we commit ourselves to the digital detox."

He opened his rucksack and produced a waterproof pouch.

"Mobiles, everyone. They stay in here until Monday morning."

Louise looked up from the pepper she was slicing on a small board.

"Seriously?"

"That was the agreement."

"What if there's an emergency?"

"That's what the personal locator beacon is for."

Daniel touched the small device clipped to his belt.

"One press alerts the emergency services. For anything short of a genuine emergency, we manage for ourselves."

Louise's knife stopped halfway through the pepper.

"What if somebody needs to contact us?"

"Everyone who needs to know has been told we're out of reach until Monday. Come on, it's only three days."

Her jaw tightened. She looked as if this were the first she had heard of it, not something agreed in advance. At last she put down the kitchen knife, pulled a slim mobile from her pocket and tossed it towards Daniel with more force than necessary.

"Fine."

I handed mine over. Daniel sealed it inside the pouch. Elliot surrendered his without comment.

"That's it," Daniel announced with satisfaction, burying the pouch deep in his rucksack. "We are officially disconnected. Welcome to 1990."

It was dark by the time we sat around the fire to eat. Louise had cooked pasta with jarred tomato sauce and peppers carried in reusable containers. The flames illuminated our faces, helped by a head torch that Daniel had set on a rock inside its diffuser pouch.

Nobody spoke much while we ate. Food always tasted better after a full day of walking, although Daniel barely touched his. Whenever Louise glanced at him, he lifted a forkful to his mouth, chewed without apparent interest and put the fork down again.

Around us, water murmured over the stones of the burn. An owl called somewhere far away, and small animals stirred in the undergrowth.

Daniel seemed happy. He kept looking at Louise with a smile that appeared whenever she turned towards him and vanished when she looked away. Elliot sat quietly, his gaze moving between his brother and the dark woodland. Louise had stopped complaining, but she remained rigid, watching the spaces between the trees as if she expected something to emerge.

The temperature dropped sharply, driving us closer to the fire. I pulled my jacket tight around myself. My body ached from the walk, but it was the satisfying ache of a day spent outdoors.

There were no emails to answer, no calls to return and no screens to check. Only fire, food and a sky crowded with more stars than I ever saw in Manchester.

"This was a good idea," I said to no one in particular. My breath showed in the cold air.

Daniel nodded and prodded the fire, sending sparks swirling upwards.

"I told you."

Louise sat with half her face in darkness and the other touched by firelight. She said nothing. Her fingers worried at a loose thread on her sleeve, slowly teasing it apart.

Daniel fed another branch to the fire. The bark popped and hissed as the flames took hold.

Night had closed completely around our little pool of light. We had finished the last of the pasta and fallen into a companionable silence, or something close to it. My muscles throbbed, and even the hard ground beneath me had begun to feel comfortable.

Daniel rubbed his hands together. The expression on his face was one I remembered from our room in halls.

"Who's ready for a story?"

Elliot groaned, though with a trace of affection.

"Seriously? We're not fifteen."

"Tradition is tradition. You can't have a proper camping trip without a ghost story."

Louise drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"Let me guess. You were the sort of child who made everyone use a makeshift spirit board at school sleepovers."

"Guilty," Daniel said with a grin.

He shifted forwards so that the flames illuminated his face from below, turning it into a mask of orange light and deep shadow.

"This is an old Highland legend. People around here swear it happened."

I settled against my rucksack. Daniel had always been an excellent storyteller. At university, he could hold a room with anything from embarrassing student-society disasters to urban legends he insisted had happened to his cousin's flatmate's brother.

"Back in the 1930s," he began, lowering his voice, "an old stalker named Silas Crowther lived with his wife in a forestry cottage not far from here. Silas spent weeks alone on the hill, tracking deer through the glens. His wife grew lonely while he was away. Some versions call her Edith. Others say her name was Mabel."

Elliot shifted beside me. His posture had stiffened. I wondered whether he had heard the story before or whether something else was troubling him.

"Silas returned from a fortnight on the hill and found his wife in bed with another man," Daniel continued. "A local ghillie who had been keeping her company while Silas was away. Silas said nothing. He watched through the window as the man dressed and left, then waited until his wife had fallen asleep before entering the cottage."

The fire crackled, throwing sparks into the darkness.

Louise had begun picking at the thread again. Her face remained blank, but her attention was fixed entirely on Daniel.

"Silas packed a bag with rope and a small spade. He bound his sleeping wife and carried her deep into the forest, to a clearing much like this one."

Daniel gestured towards the black trees surrounding us.

"She woke when he began to dig. She begged him to spare her. Swore she had never been unfaithful. But Silas kept digging."

Elliot stared at his brother's face with an intensity far too serious for a fireside tale.

"When the hole was deep enough, Silas put his wife inside it. She was still pleading when he began covering her with earth. One spadeful after another, until her cries became muffled and then stopped altogether."

Louise's fingers went still. Her knuckles whitened where she clutched her arms around her knees.

"Silas returned to the cottage and told everyone his wife had run away with another man. Most people believed him. They had heard the rumours about her loneliness. He lived alone for nearly a year. Then, one night, something scratched at his door."

Wind moved through the canopy. A branch broke somewhere beyond the firelight, and I flinched before I could stop myself.

"Silas opened the door and found nothing outside except the forest. It happened for three nights. Scratching at the door, but nobody there when he looked. On the fourth night, the sound came from his bedroom window instead."

Daniel reached slowly into his rucksack.

"When Silas pulled back the curtain, he saw his wife's face. Filthy. Rotting. But unmistakably hers. Her fingers had been worn to bone from clawing through the soil. In one hand, she held the knife Silas had left beside her grave."

Daniel drew out an old knife. Firelight revealed a blade pitted with rust.

"The same knife he had used to cut the rope before he buried her."

Louise jerked backwards.

"Jesus, Daniel."

"Where did you get that?" Elliot demanded.

His voice was sharp enough to wipe the smile from my face.

Daniel turned the knife between his fingers, plainly pleased by the reaction.

"I found it while we were setting up. It was half buried near that large pine at the edge of the clearing."

I leant closer. The knife was clearly old. Its wooden handle was cracked and weathered, and years of exposure had dulled the blade. It might have dated from the inter-war period, though I was no expert.

"You shouldn't pick up old knives you find in the woods," Elliot said.

"Relax. Someone lost a hunting knife. It lends the story a bit of authenticity, don't you think?"

Daniel held the blade near the fire, shadows sliding over its corroded surface.

"Anyway, Silas's wife drove the knife into his heart and dragged his body into the forest. They say she buried him in the grave he had dug for her. Neither body was ever found."

He glanced around the circle, measuring our reactions.

"But walkers still report seeing a dirt-covered woman moving between the trees at night. And on quiet evenings, if you listen carefully, you can hear scratching. Fingernails on wood, or bone against earth."

Daniel put the knife beside him, looking far too satisfied.

"Some say it happened in this very woodland. That's why this place is always empty, even at the height of the season. Local people know better than to stay here."

"Then how did you find it?" I asked.

Daniel shrugged.

"Someone at the visitor centre mentioned the area when I asked about quiet places. He said most visitors preferred the managed campsites."

"I wonder why," Louise muttered.

She had released her legs, but now sat with her arms folded tightly across her chest.

"It's only a story," Daniel said, reaching over to touch her knee. "No different from the ones we used to tell in the group."

Something passed between them, a look I could not interpret. Louise met Daniel's eyes, then glanced at Elliot and me before returning her attention to the fire.

"I need a piss," I announced, suddenly feeling as though I had intruded on something private.

I stood, my knees cracking after so long on the hard ground.

"Don't begin another story without me."

"Take the torch," Daniel said, tossing me his head torch. "And watch out for vengeful spirits."

I rolled my eyes, switched it on and walked beyond the fire's glow. Darkness swallowed me after only a few steps, the beam illuminating a narrow tunnel between the trees.

I found a place far enough away for privacy but close enough that I would not lose the camp, and relieved myself. The woodland sounds seemed to press in from every side: insects chirring, leaves stirring and the distant rush of the burn.

When I turned back, I angled the beam towards the ground so I would not trip over a root. The light passed between two tall pines and caught something.

A figure.

It was standing perfectly still, watching me.

I froze. The beam touched only part of what appeared to be a person between the trees, about thirty metres away. I could see no features, merely a human outline darker than the forest surrounding it.

"Hello?"

My voice cracked.

There was no reply. I moved the light back and forth, trying to see more, but the figure remained at the edge of the beam. It did not move. It did not speak.

A branch snapped beneath my boot when I stepped backwards. The sound broke whatever had held me there. I turned and ran, branches striking my arms and face as I crashed towards the fire.

I burst into the clearing, breathing hard.

"There's someone out there."

Daniel stood at once.

"What do you mean?"

"Between two large pines. Just standing there, watching. I couldn't see their face."

Elliot rose too, one hand moving to the small knife on his belt.

"How far away?"

"About thirty metres. Just beyond where I stopped."

My breathing began to settle, but my pulse still hammered in my ears.

"They didn't move when I called out."

Daniel reached for a heavy-duty torch that was solid enough to serve as a weapon.

"Elliot and I will have a look. Louise, stay here with Tom."

"Like hell," Louise said, standing. "I'm not waiting here alone."

Daniel hesitated.

"Then we all go."

We moved together towards the place I had indicated, four torch beams cutting through the darkness. The woodland felt denser at night, the spaces between the trunks cramped and airless. Our lights did little to drive back the shadows.

"Here," I said when we reached the two pines. "It was standing between these."

Our beams swept over the trees and ground. There was nothing: no footprints, no displaced needles and no broken undergrowth. No sign that anyone had stood there.

"Are you certain this is the place?" Daniel asked, passing his powerful beam over the ground.

"Positive."

I stepped closer. The carpet of pine needles should have recorded some disturbance, but it looked untouched.

"It could have been a deer," Elliot suggested, although he did not sound convinced. "They sometimes freeze in a light."

"It wasn't a deer. It was shaped like a person. It was standing upright."

Daniel put a hand on my shoulder.

"Perhaps the story got to you and the shadows did the rest."

I wanted to argue, but doubt had already begun to undermine the certainty of what I had seen. Had it truly been a person, or only trunks and darkness rearranged by a frightened imagination?

"Let's go back," Daniel said. "It's cold, and whatever you saw has gone."

Elliot lingered, staring beyond the reach of our lights.

"You said it didn't move when you spoke?"

I nodded.

"It just stood there."

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing else as we returned to the fire.

"Probably a stalker," Daniel said once we were seated. "Though he shouldn't be out there at this hour."

"In late September?" Elliot replied. "And in the dark?"

"Then perhaps it was a lost walker who saw the fire and came to investigate."

"Why disappear?" I asked.

Daniel shrugged.

"Who knows? People behave strangely."

Louise had said nothing during the search or the discussion afterwards. Now she stood and brushed pine needles from her trousers.

"I'm going to bed. I'm tired, I'm cold, and I've had enough of talking about people in the forest."

"I'll join you shortly," Daniel told her.

Elliot and I exchanged a glance as she unzipped their tent and disappeared inside. The mood had altered. A tension that had not existed during dinner now hung over the clearing.

"I think I'll turn in too," Elliot said after several awkward minutes. "It'll be a long day tomorrow if we're walking towards the Cairngorm Club Footbridge and the Lairig Ghru."

"Good idea," I said, suddenly eager to escape the oppressive dark. "Coming, Daniel?"

"In a minute. I want to make sure the fire is properly out."

He prodded the embers without looking at us. Elliot hesitated as though he wanted to speak to his brother, but finally nodded and walked towards our tent.

I followed him inside. The sleeping bags and rucksacks took up most of the floor. At least the close quarters would help once the temperature fell further.

"Did you really see something?" Elliot asked as we settled into our sleeping bags.

"I think so. Now I'm not certain."

He was silent for a moment.

"Daniel told that same story the last time we camped together. Two years ago, in a different part of Scotland. There was no knife then."

I turned towards him, although I could see only his outline in the darkness.

"Why is that significant?"

"It may not be. It's simply interesting that he told it again. And then there's the knife..."

"Do you think he planted it for the story?"

"Perhaps. It sounds like the sort of thing he might do."

There was something in Elliot's voice I could not identify. It was not quite concern and not quite suspicion, but occupied the murky ground between them.

"Get some sleep," he said. "We should stay together tomorrow."

I nodded, though he could not see me, and tried to settle on the thin sleeping mat.

Outside, water hissed over the remaining embers as Daniel extinguished the fire. I heard him moving around the clearing, followed by the sound of his tent zip.

I was almost asleep when the voices began. At first they were low, then increasingly heated. Daniel and Louise were arguing. The words were mostly indistinct through the nylon, but their tones were unmistakable.

"That isn't what you promised," I heard Louise say. Her voice was tighter than I had heard it before.

Daniel's reply was too quiet to understand, but it had the measured cadence of somebody attempting to calm her.

"I don't care about your stupid tradition," Louise snapped. A moment later I caught, "You should have said something before."

Their voices dropped again. I strained to hear, curiosity overpowering the knowledge that I was eavesdropping. Beside me, Elliot's breathing changed. He was awake and listening too.

"It isn't going to work if you keep..." Daniel's voice rose briefly, then stopped.

Silence followed. It was so abrupt and complete that it felt deliberate. I imagined Daniel realising how far their voices carried and warning Louise to be quiet. Perhaps they had moved to whispers too soft for us to hear. Whatever the truth, the argument appeared to be over.

I rolled on to my side, searching for a position that did not press a root or stone into my back.

Sleep came in fragments. Each time I began to drift, another sound pulled me awake: a branch cracking, an owl calling softly, leaves moving in the wind.

Once, I could have sworn that footsteps circled our tent, pine needles crunching beneath a slow and careful tread. I remained motionless and listened, but the sound did not come again. Eventually I persuaded myself that it had been a nocturnal animal searching for food.

The third or fourth time I woke, I heard a tent zip being opened. It was a slow, cautious sound, made by somebody trying not to wake the rest of us.

I raised my head. Footsteps moved away from the camp and faded into the forest.

Elliot slept beside me. I considered waking him, but decided it was probably Daniel or Louise going out to relieve themselves.

I pulled the sleeping bag closer around my shoulders against the pre-dawn cold. The footsteps never returned, or else I was too deeply asleep to hear them.

I woke suddenly to thin morning light filtering through the tent. My neck ached from the position in which I had slept, and my back protested when I moved. The air was cold and hushed, with that peculiar emptiness between night and full daylight.

Elliot lay beside me, bundled into his sleeping bag and breathing steadily.

My memories of the night were uncertain. Daniel and Louise arguing. Footsteps circling our tent. The careful pull of a zip. I could no longer tell whether I had dreamt some of it.

I climbed out of my sleeping bag. The cold raised gooseflesh on my arms. After pulling on my boots without tying them, I grabbed my jacket and quietly unzipped the tent.

The clearing was washed in grey early light that made everything look subtly wrong. The fire ring held only ash and blackened wood. Dew silvered the grass and pine needles around the tents.

"Daniel?" I called softly, reluctant to wake the others if he had merely stepped away.

No answer came. The campsite remained still.

I made a wider circuit of the immediate area. There was no sign of him. The tent he shared with Louise stood closed on the opposite side of the clearing.

My breath clouded as I approached it.

"Daniel?"

I spoke more loudly this time. When there was still no response, I opened the zip far enough to look inside.

Louise lay curled in her sleeping bag with her back towards the entrance. Daniel's sleeping bag was empty and neatly arranged. It looked less as though he had risen early than as though nobody had slept in it at all.

I closed the tent and stood there, wondering where he could have gone. Perhaps he had woken early to gather firewood or explore the area.

Yet something felt wrong. Daniel was not the sort of man to wander away from camp alone, particularly after what I had seen the previous night.

I tied my boots and walked towards the burn. The forest was alive with morning sounds: birdsong, moving branches and rushing water. The threatening forms of the previous night had become ordinary trees and rocks again.

About twenty metres from camp, something glinted among the fallen leaves.

I went closer. The rusty knife from Daniel's story had been driven point-first into the soil. Someone had deliberately placed it there.

I pulled it free. The wooden handle felt smoother than it had looked in the firelight. The blade was heavily corroded but still solid. Dark marks stained one edge, although I could not tell whether they were old blood or simply more rust.

Daniel was probably extending his ghost story into a morning prank.

"Very funny, Daniel," I called. "You can come out now."

My voice fell flat among the trees. There was no laughter, no movement and no friend emerging from behind a trunk with a grin.

Sunlight was beginning to penetrate the canopy. It was still early, but dawn had passed. I returned to camp with the knife, deciding that it was time to wake the others.

Elliot was already outside. He crouched beside the fire ring, arranging kindling and thin sticks with care.

"Morning," he said without looking up. His voice was rough with sleep. "Is Daniel with you?"

The question confirmed my growing unease.

"No. I thought he might have gone for water."

Elliot's hands stopped.

"His rucksack is here. So is his jacket. Louise is still asleep."

I held up the knife.

"I found this stuck in the ground beside the burn."

His eyes narrowed in recognition.

"The one from last night."

"I think he's playing some sort of game. Taking the story to the next level."

"That would be like him," Elliot admitted, though doubt ran beneath the words. "But leaving without his jacket wouldn't. It was bitterly cold last night."

A zip opened behind us. Louise emerged from her tent and squinted in the morning light.

"Where's Daniel?" she asked at once, looking between us.

"We hoped you knew," I said. "When did you last see him?"

She shook her head and pushed a hand through her tangled hair.

"He was asleep when I drifted off. What time is it?"

Elliot checked his watch.

"Almost eight."

"And he's simply gone?"

Tension entered her voice.

I raised the knife.

"I found this near the burn. It might be his idea of a prank."

Her eyes fixed on the blade, and her expression hardened.

"That isn't funny. Not after his stupid story."

"Let's eat something and then search," Elliot said. His voice was deliberately calm, despite the strain visible in his shoulders. "He can't have gone far without his equipment."

We ate a hurried breakfast of cereal bars and water while standing around the dead fire, discussing where he might have gone.

By mid-morning, with no sign of Daniel, concern had hardened into fear.

"He wouldn't simply leave," Louise insisted as she paced the edge of the clearing. Dry needles crackled beneath her boots. "Especially not after..."

She left the sentence unfinished. Neither Elliot nor I pressed her.

"We should separate," Elliot said at last. "We'll cover more ground."

I thought of the figure between the pines.

"Is that safe?"

"We stay within shouting distance. Thirty minutes, then everyone comes back whether we've found him or not. If there's still no sign, we walk out and raise the alarm."

We agreed on our directions. Elliot would follow the burn west. Louise would search north, towards the route by which we had arrived. I would head east, following the water downstream.

We synchronised our watches and agreed to call Daniel's name at regular intervals so we could judge one another's positions.

"Keep your eyes open," Elliot said as we prepared to leave. "For Daniel and for anything unusual."

His choice of words told me he was taking my sighting more seriously now.

I set off east along Allt Druidh with the antique knife tucked into my belt. I was not sure why I had brought it. It might serve as evidence if Daniel's disappearance proved to be an elaborate prank. It might also serve as a weapon if I met whatever I had seen during the night.

The burn murmured beside me, clear enough for every stone on its bed to be visible and cold enough to numb my fingertips when I tested the water.

"Daniel!" I called every few minutes, pausing to listen between the water and birdsong. "Daniel, can you hear me?"

After roughly ten minutes, the burn curved south beside a shallow pool. The trees thinned around a patch of sunlit ground, with broken light falling across leaves and moss-covered stones.

I drew breath to call Daniel's name again.

Then I saw him.

It was not Daniel, but a man standing between two large pines at the far edge of the opening.

He was painfully thin and wore faded walking clothes several sizes too large for him. His skin had the unhealthy pallor of someone long confined indoors. He stared at me without moving.

I froze.

Was this the figure I had glimpsed the night before?

"Hello," I called, surprised by the steadiness of my voice. "I'm looking for a friend. Have you seen anyone else out here?"

The man neither spoke nor moved. His eyes looked unnaturally dark against his bloodless face.

I took a cautious step towards him.

"My friend is missing from our camp. Daniel Harper. Tall, fair hair. Have you seen him?"

Still he said nothing.

Then, very slowly, he lifted one arm and pointed deeper into the forest, away from the burn.

"He went that way?" I asked, moving closer as dead leaves broke beneath my boots. "Is he hurt?"

The man remained silent, his arm extended towards something beyond the trees. The sleeve of his faded jacket slipped back, exposing a wrist so thin that every bone showed beneath the skin.

I approached carefully.

The clearing grew unnaturally quiet. The birds stopped singing. Even the rush of the burn seemed to recede until all I could hear was my own breathing.

When I was about ten metres from him, I looked down to avoid a fallen branch.

When I looked up again, the man was gone.

I stopped and searched the trees. "Hello? Where did you go?"

Nothing answered except the soft stirring of leaves. There were no retreating footsteps, no movement among the trunks. He had simply disappeared.

I turned slowly, looking for any sign of him, but found nothing. There were not even footprints in the soft earth where he had been standing.

I checked my watch. I had been away from camp for fifteen minutes. I ought to head back.

But the man had pointed this way. If Daniel had come in this direction for some reason, he might be close. I hesitated, then decided to carry on for another five minutes. No longer than that.

The ground grew rougher as I moved away from Allt Druidh. The pines gave way to mixed woodland and dense undergrowth that caught at my clothes and scratched my hands. The slope rose beneath me, forcing me to pick my way over exposed roots and loose stones.

"Daniel?" I called, pushing through a tangle of saplings.

My voice sounded flat, as though the air itself had swallowed it. The woodland looked wrong here: older, darker, crowded with larger trees whose trunks twisted around one another. Thick roots broke through the earth, and moss covered almost every surface. The canopy shut out much of the daylight, leaving everything beneath it dim and green.

I could no longer hear Elliot or Louise calling.

Then every other sound faded as well. No birds. No insects. Not even the wind. All I could hear was my own breathing, quickening as unease tightened in my chest.

I checked my watch again and felt a stab of panic.

Thirty-five minutes had passed. I was already late returning to camp.

I turned back, but nothing looked familiar. The route I had taken had vanished into an indistinguishable mass of trees and bushes.

Fear rose in my throat. I pulled out my compass. If I headed west, I ought to reach the burn, and from there I could follow the water back to camp.

The needle wandered around the face before settling towards my right. I took a breath and started forwards, pushing branches aside.

I had taken only three steps when a scream ripped through the silence.

It was high, terrified and unmistakably Louise's. It came from behind me, back towards camp.

I ran, crashing through bushes, ducking beneath branches and jumping fallen trunks. My lungs burned. A second scream, closer than the first, drove me faster.

My foot caught beneath a root. I pitched forwards with my arms outstretched, then rolled down a short, steep bank I had not seen. I struck the ground hard enough to empty my lungs. Leaves and soil filled my mouth, and a rock buried beneath the earth drove into my right side.

For several seconds I could only lie there, stunned and unable to breathe.

When my lungs finally worked again, I pushed myself upright and spat out the dirt. My right ankle throbbed where it had twisted beneath the root, but it took my weight. Sprained, perhaps, but not broken.

I stood still and listened for another scream.

The silence that followed was worse.

"Louise!" I shouted.

"Elliot!"

I started moving again, limping at first, then gathering speed as the stiffness eased. The trees began to thin, and I recognised landmarks from our walk in. I was heading the right way.

I burst through the final screen of branches and stumbled into our clearing, braced for whatever horror had made Louise scream.

There was nothing.

The tents stood undisturbed. The fire pit was cold and grey. There was no sign of Elliot or Louise, no evidence of a struggle or violence. Only our peaceful, abandoned camp beneath the late-morning sun.

I stood panting in the middle of the clearing and turned in a slow circle. The rusty antique knife felt heavy at my belt. Sweat cooled against my skin, making me shiver.

"Elliot? Louise?" My voice echoed among the trees. "Where are you?"

The camp offered no answer. The rucksacks we had left behind were still propped against the logs where we had sat the previous night. Daniel's jacket hung from a branch where he had supposedly left it, although the sight of it gave me an odd jolt. It was the right colour, but the fabric looked older and more worn than I remembered.

Everything was exactly as we had left it except for the people who should have been there.

I forced myself to think past the panic. I had heard Louise scream twice, clearly and in genuine terror. I could not have imagined it. The sound had dragged me back through the woodland despite my injured ankle, which now hurt with every step.

Something had happened during our search. Something bad enough to make her scream like that. Now both she and Elliot were gone.

I called their names again, louder, until my voice became raw. Birds burst from nearby branches, their wings beating in alarm. I listened for any human sound among the rustling leaves and the distant rush of the burn.

Nothing.

My fingers brushed the antique knife. It felt wrong and out of place, as if it belonged to the forest rather than to me. I considered throwing it away, but left it where it was. If I encountered whatever had frightened Louise, I might need a weapon.

I circled the camp, searching for some sign of where they had gone. The ground was confused with footprints from our morning activities, but I found fresher tracks leading north, the direction Louise had taken when we separated. There were two sets, side by side in places. Elliot and Louise together. One set seemed to drag slightly.

I followed as quickly as my ankle allowed. Pine needles and dead leaves muffled my steps. The woodland thickened around me, its canopy blocking all but scattered patches of sunlight. The air smelled of damp earth and pine resin, with something else beneath it - something metallic and wrong.

The tracks disappeared where the ground became stony. I stopped, listening and turning slowly.

A soft, rhythmic noise disturbed the silence. At first I thought it was an animal. Then I recognised the ragged breaths between each sound.

Someone was crying.

I moved towards it carefully, pushing through low branches that scratched my face and caught in my hair. The sobbing grew louder. It came from behind a granite boulder protruding from the forest floor.

The rock reached my chest and was mottled with pale lichen and moss. I approached from the side, placing each foot quietly, then peered around its edge.

Louise sat behind it with her knees drawn to her chest and her face buried in her arms. Her shoulders shook with every sob. She had not noticed me.

Mud darkened one sleeve and shoulder of her green jacket. Her hair had come free of its usual ponytail and hung loose and tangled around her face.

"Louise?"

I kept my voice low, trying not to startle her.

She jerked upright. Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed, her face streaked with tears and dirt. Fear flashed across it before she recognised me. Then she scrambled to her feet, nearly falling.

"Tom!"

She threw herself against me. Her fingers dug into my jacket like claws, and her whole body trembled. Her breath came in shuddering gasps. I steadied her, uncertain how to respond to the sudden contact.

"What happened? Where's Elliot?"

She pulled back just far enough to look at me. "I saw it happen," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"Saw what?"

"Someone killed Daniel."

The words did not register at first. My mind simply refused to accept them.

"What do you mean, killed? Who? Where?"

Her grip tightened on my arms. "A man. I couldn't see his face. He had a knife."

Her gaze shifted past me and went vacant. "Daniel was standing there, looking at something on the ground. The man came up behind him. I tried to shout a warning, but nothing came out."

She broke down again, her explanation dissolving into sobs.

I stood there, unable to reconcile her words with the friend who had walked into the Cairngorm woodland beside me. Daniel had been oddly quiet during the walk. He had worn clothes I did not remember seeing before and eaten almost nothing, claiming the jarred sauce tasted wrong. At times his answers had arrived a beat too late, as if he had been listening for someone else's cue. Yet he had been there. I had spoken to him. Elliot had walked beside his own brother.

Daniel could not be dead.

"Where did it happen?" I asked. "Where's..."

I could barely force out the rest. "Where's his body?"

"Over there." Louise gestured vaguely east. "I ran. I just ran. I couldn't help him. I hid here."

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Elliot was looking for me. He found me perhaps twenty minutes ago, then went to find you."

I glanced towards camp. "He's not there. The clearing was empty when I got back."

Her frightened expression sharpened. "Then where is he? Do you think that man found him too?"

The possibility tightened my stomach.

"We need to return to camp. Elliot may go back there looking for us."

Louise leaned heavily against me as we walked. She cried intermittently and stumbled often, as though dizzy or exhausted. I supported her as best I could, though pain lanced through my ankle at every step.

The forest seemed unnaturally dense. Branches caught our clothes, and hidden roots tried to trip us. Twice I checked the compass to ensure we were still heading in the right direction. Each time the needle quivered before settling. Everything looked different from only a few hours earlier, as if we were crossing another stretch of woodland entirely.

At last the trees thinned and the campsite appeared ahead.

Relief flooded through me when I saw Elliot pacing the clearing, shoulders rigid, head turning as he searched the surrounding forest.

"Elliot!" I called.

He spun towards us. Anxiety changed to relief, then anger when he saw Louise. He hurried forwards and reached for her.

"Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere."

He stopped when he saw her condition. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Louise shook her head. Fresh tears spilled down her face.

"Daniel," was all she managed.

I told Elliot what she had said about witnessing Daniel's murder. The colour drained from his face as I spoke. His jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists.

"Where?" he demanded when I had finished. "Where did this happen?"

"East of here. She said -"

"It was him," Louise interrupted.

Her voice had become hard and brittle. She was staring at my waist.

I followed her gaze to the rusty knife tucked through my belt. In the shock of her story, I had forgotten it was there.

"That's the knife." Louise recoiled from me, her tears abruptly gone. A wild, accusing stare replaced them. "He killed Daniel with it. That exact knife."

Elliot looked from the blade to my face. Confusion gave way to dawning horror.

"No." I raised my hands. "I found this stuck in the ground before we began searching. You remember, Elliot. I showed it to you."

He said nothing, but I saw recognition flicker in his eyes.

"He's lying," Louise hissed. Her body had transformed. The broken woman I had found behind the boulder was gone. She stood straight, her movements precise as she retreated towards Elliot. "That's the knife I saw. The man stabbed Daniel with it again and again."

"You couldn't have seen Tom use it," Elliot said hoarsely. "He showed it to me before we split up."

"Then he wanted you to see it. He planned this." Louise moved closer to him. "He wanted an excuse ready."

Elliot's expression hardened, suspicion wrestling with what he knew.

"Where were you this morning, Tom? Really?"

I stared at him. "I told you. I found the knife near the burn and went looking for Daniel. I saw a strange man in the trees. He pointed me deeper into the woodland, then vanished. When I heard Louise screaming, I ran back here."

Even to me, the account sounded absurd. A pale man who disappeared without footprints. A planted knife. Screams that led to an empty camp.

Elliot's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth. Why would I hurt Daniel? He's been my friend since university."

"He's trying to confuse us," Louise told Elliot, although she never took her eyes from me. "He's trying to make you doubt what I saw."

I reached for the knife, intending to remove it from my belt and throw it aside.

"Look, I'll get rid of it -"

"Don't move."

Elliot's command cracked through the clearing. Fear and fury burned together in his eyes. He stepped between Louise and me.

"Put your hands where I can see them."

I raised them slowly. "Elliot, this is insane. You know me. You know I wouldn't -"

"Shut up."

He went to his rucksack and pulled out a coil of nylon cord.

"Turn around."

"You can't be serious."

"He'll kill us too if you don't stop him," Louise said. Her voice rose, high and trembling. "He'll do to us what he did to Daniel."

Something in her tone made me study her more closely. There was fear there, but there was something else beneath it, something sly and watchful. For a fraction of a second, her eyes met mine and I thought I saw satisfaction.

Elliot advanced with the cord. "Turn around, Tom. Now."

I considered running. I considered fighting him. But if he truly believed I had killed his brother, he would not hold back. Resisting would only convince him further.

Slowly, I turned and placed my wrists together behind my back.

The cord bit into my skin as Elliot bound them. He did not tie it tightly enough to stop the blood flowing, but the knots were secure.

"Elliot," I said, trying once more, "this is a mistake. We need to find Daniel."

"Daniel's dead." His voice thickened. "Louise saw it happen."

Louise stepped closer and helped him secure the final knot. As she leaned in, her sleeve brushed my arm and I noticed a stain on her cuff, partly obscured by mud.

It was too dark to be dirt.

Blood.

"There's blood on your sleeve."

Louise jerked away as if I had burnt her. Her gaze flicked to the cuff, then back to Elliot. She tugged her sleeve down over the stain.

"It's from when I fell. I scraped my hand on some rocks while I was running."

I looked at her hands. They were dirty, but I could see no wound large enough to account for that much blood.

She and Elliot exchanged a glance I could not interpret. The silent understanding in it turned my stomach.

"We need to reach the visitor centre or find a signal," Elliot said. His voice was firm despite the tremor beneath it. "They'll send a search team for Daniel. And the police will know what to do with you."

He emptied the essentials from our rucksacks into his own: water bottles, cereal bars, the first-aid kit, map and compass. He took my pocket knife and put it in his pocket. The tents and sleeping bags stayed behind.

Louise helped him, working with a speed and composure that did not fit the traumatised woman I had found behind the boulder. Once, when Elliot turned away, I caught her watching me with an expression that chilled me. She looked as if she were assessing something, almost curious.

The moment she realised I had seen her, grief returned to her face so quickly that I nearly doubted what I had witnessed.

Elliot shouldered his full rucksack, then picked up Daniel's untouched one. He seemed determined to carry his brother's belongings out, even if he could not bring Daniel himself.

"Let's go." He shoved me forwards. "Keep quiet until we find help. I don't want to hear any more lies."

I stumbled over a root, unbalanced by my bound hands. Pain shot from my twisted ankle to my knee, and I gasped.

"Walk," Elliot ordered without sympathy. "It's roughly six miles back to the walkers' car park. If we keep moving, we may reach Loch an Eilein before dark."

He led the way, with Louise close behind. I had no choice but to follow.

Daniel dead. Murdered. The idea still seemed impossible. Louise's terror had appeared genuine, until it had not.

"Keep moving," Elliot said, his voice flat with grief and anger.

The route narrowed through dense woodland. Wet leaves and pine needles muffled our steps and released their damp, earthy smell beneath our boots. Birds sang overhead with obscene cheerfulness while we walked in silence.

My foot caught another root. With my hands tied behind me, I could not save myself. I struck the ground shoulder first, driving the breath from my lungs. Soil filled my mouth, and pain spread across my chest.

"Get up," Elliot said, making no move to help.

I struggled onto my knees, then forced myself upright. The bindings made every movement slow and awkward. My trousers had torn at the knee, and blood seeped through the fabric.

"I can't walk properly with my hands tied," I said, spitting out grit.

Elliot's face hardened. "You'll manage."

Louise stood a little behind him, looking between us and the trees. She was no longer as composed. Her fingers picked constantly at the hem of her jacket, and she flinched at every breaking twig or stirring branch. She had smeared more dirt over the blood on her sleeve, but I could still see the stain whenever she moved her arm.

We continued in silence as the woodland thickened. Branches struck my face and tangled in my hair, and I could not raise my hands to protect myself. The ground became steeper. I fell twice more, receiving nothing from Elliot but cold looks and orders to carry on.

Morning passed into afternoon. My throat burned with thirst, and hunger cramped my stomach, but I asked for nothing. Grief had opened something dangerous inside Elliot, and I feared what might happen if I pressed him.

After what felt like hours, he stopped and stared at the trees ahead. He pulled out the compass and turned slowly, watching the needle.

"We should have crossed one of the forest tracks towards Loch an Eilein by now," he muttered.

I leant against a tree, grateful for the rest. My ankle was swollen and throbbing, and my shirt clung damply to my back despite the cool air.

Louise paced nearby, growing more agitated with every turn. Elliot unfolded the map and checked it against the compass.

"This doesn't make sense. We've been heading south for nearly three hours."

"Perhaps the compass is faulty," I said.

He gave me a contemptuous look. "It isn't faulty."

"We're going in circles," Louise said.

She stopped pacing and stood rigid, staring into the distance. "I've seen that tree before."

She pointed to a large Scots pine with a forked trunk and a long pale scar down one side.

Elliot shook his head. "That's impossible. We've been walking in a straight line."

The tree did look familiar. In woodland like this, however, any number of trunks could resemble one another. Still, unease shifted in my stomach. Something had felt wrong since we arrived, and the sensation was growing stronger.

"Let me see the compass," I said.

Elliot hesitated before approaching. He held it where I could inspect it without touching it.

The needle revolved in slow, lazy circles. It never settled.

"That's not right," he admitted, tapping the casing. The needle continued its aimless rotation. "It worked earlier."

"There may be magnetic rock nearby. Iron deposits can interfere with a compass."

It sounded plausible enough, although I had no idea whether the local geology supported it.

Elliot put the useless compass away. "We'll use the sun. There's enough daylight left to judge the direction."

He peered through a gap in the canopy and pointed to our left, away from the route we had been following.

We changed course and carried on. Clouds soon spread across the sky, concealing the sun. The trees seemed to press more closely around us, and the air became heavy and still.

Louise breathed faster and began walking cautiously. She glanced over her shoulder again and again, reacting to sounds none of us seemed able to hear.

We came across a dark patch staining the leaves and earth. It was broad, irregular and dried to a brown crust.

Blood. Far too much of it to have come from a scraped hand.

Elliot stopped beside it. His face turned grey.

"Daniel," he whispered.

Louise watched him rather than the stain.

Another hour of fruitless walking passed before Elliot finally stopped.

"We need to rest and work this out."

He removed his rucksack and took a long drink from one of the water bottles. After a moment's reluctance, he offered it to me. Because my hands remained bound, he had to hold it to my lips.

The water was wonderfully cool against my dry throat.

Louise refused when he offered it to her. She shook her head sharply.

"We need to keep moving. It'll be dark soon."

"We're lost," Elliot said. "I don't understand how, but we're lost. We need to think before we make matters worse."

I worked my wrists against the cord, searching for any weakness. Elliot's knots were secure, but hours of sweat and movement had introduced the slightest amount of give.

"If you untie me, I can help," I said. "Three pairs of eyes are better than two."

"Shut up," Louise snapped. Her hands shook as she wrapped her arms around herself. "Just shut up."

Elliot ignored us and spread the map across a fallen trunk. He traced possible routes with one finger, muttering under his breath. Without a reliable compass or a clear landmark, the contours and forestry tracks meant very little.

"This is your fault," Louise said suddenly.

She rounded on me, her eyes wide and wild.

"You're doing this somehow. You're making us lost."

Elliot looked up.

"Don't you see?" She advanced, stabbing a finger towards me. "He wants us lost. He wants us to die out here like Daniel."

"Nobody is dying," Elliot said, rising quickly. "We need to stay calm."

Louise did not appear to hear him. Her breaths were rapid and shallow, and sweat shone on her forehead despite the cold.

"He killed Daniel, and now he's killing us. He's making us walk in circles until we're too exhausted to fight back."

Her voice rose until she was nearly shouting.

Elliot stepped in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Louise, look at me. We're going to be all right. We'll work it out."

She shook her head violently. "No. You don't understand. He's doing this. He's making the compass spin. He's moving the trees."

Her hands closed around Elliot's arms.

"We have to stop him before he kills us too."

I tensed. Her mood had changed too quickly. Elliot continued trying to soothe her, but she stared past him at me with a hatred that seemed to consume her.

"Elliot," I said quietly, "something is wrong with her."

He gave me a warning look. "She's frightened. We all are."

"This isn't ordinary fear. Look at her."

Louise's face went suddenly blank. Her eyes focused on nothing, and her body swayed as if she were listening to a voice the rest of us could not hear.

Then her hand darted beneath her jacket.

She drew a large modern hunting knife with a serrated edge.

It was not the rusty antique blade still tucked into my belt. I had not seen this weapon before.

"Louise, no!" Elliot reached for her wrist, but she twisted away with startling agility.

She lunged at me, driving the knife towards my chest.

"You won't kill anyone else!"

I staggered backwards, hampered by my bound wrists and damaged ankle. Elliot threw himself between us and seized her forearm. The serrated blade passed within inches of me.

"Stop!" he shouted as he struggled to control her without hurting her. "This isn't helping!"

They fought for possession of the knife. Louise's movements were wild and unpredictable, fuelled by a strength that seemed impossible in her slight frame.

I backed against a tree and worked desperately at the bindings. The cord had loosened during the long walk. With one final twist that tore the skin from my wrist, I dragged one hand free. The other followed, and the cord dropped to the ground.

I shook feeling back into my bleeding hands.

Elliot and Louise were still struggling. Neither had noticed that I was free.

I considered running. It might be my only chance to escape, but I could not abandon Elliot to her. Not while she had that knife.

I searched for a branch, a stone, anything I could use to disarm her.

Then I heard my name.

"Tom."

It came from deeper in the woodland in a familiar voice.

Daniel's voice.

I froze, certain I had imagined it.

"Tom, help me."

"Did you hear that?" My heart hammered against my ribs.

Elliot stopped struggling for an instant. Louise became still as well.

In the sudden quiet, the voice called again.

"Tom. This way."

Elliot's face went white.

"That's Daniel!" Hope surged through me despite everything. "He's alive. That's his voice."

"Impossible," Louise hissed.

But her expression held more than disbelief. For the first time, I saw immediate, genuine fear.

"Tom. Hurry."

I did not think. I pushed away from the tree and ran towards the voice, ignoring the pain in my ankle and the stiffness in my shoulders.

Behind me, Elliot shouted for me to stop.

"Tom, don't! It's not what you think!"

I crashed through the undergrowth. Branches struck my face, and roots threatened to trip me at every step. Daniel's voice grew louder, drawing me towards a small clearing visible through the trees.

"Tom. I'm here. Tom."

The repetition finally registered.

The same words. The same rhythm. Again and again.

The voice did not change as I approached. It did not answer Elliot's shouts. It simply repeated my name and those short phrases with mechanical precision.

I slowed, and the hope inside me curdled.

"Tom. I'm here. Tom."

Now I heard the flatness I had missed before, the absence of the tiny variations that made speech human.

It was not Daniel calling me.

It was a recording of Daniel calling my name.

I stopped at the edge of the clearing. Elliot's footsteps crashed through the bushes behind me, drawing closer. Louise followed him, her breathing high and ragged.

The voice came from beyond a final screen of branches.

"Tom. Help me."

My hands trembled as I parted them.

The clearing beyond was roughly ten metres across. Weak afternoon light filtered through the canopy, illuminating a massive old pine at its centre. Its trunk was broader than I could have encircled with both arms, and its roots rose from the earth like knotted limbs.

Daniel sat propped against it.

I stepped into the clearing and stopped.

My mind refused to understand what I was seeing.

Daniel's back rested against the trunk. His legs stretched in front of him, and his arms hung loosely at his sides.

His head was missing.

A ragged stump rose from the collar of his shirt. His severed head had been placed in his lap, tilted upwards. His eyes were open and glazed. His mouth had been forced around a small black object.

"Tom?"

The voice emerged flat and mechanical, although Daniel's lips did not move.

A battered pocket digital voice recorder had been wedged between his teeth.

My stomach convulsed. I bent over and vomited onto the ground. I retched until nothing remained but bile. Tears streamed down my face, and my raw hands could barely steady me.

When the spasms finally stopped, I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and forced myself to look again.

As the first shock receded, details emerged.

Daniel was wearing faded trousers and a heavy checked shirt I had never seen before. They were not the clothes he had worn during our walk or at camp. His skin was grey and waxen. The blood around his neck had dried black. Flies crawled across the wound, and when the air shifted, the smell of decay struck me with such force that I nearly vomited again.

He had not been killed that morning.

He had been dead for days. Perhaps since before Elliot and I had watched him arrive for the trip. Before we had walked with him from the Loch an Eilein car park. Before we had heard him tell the story of Silas Crowther and the murdered woman who rose from her grave.

Louise's account of witnessing his murder that morning was a lie.

Yet someone wearing Daniel's face had made the six-mile walk into the forest with us. Someone Elliot and I had both accepted as Daniel, despite the unfamiliar clothes, the strange pauses in his speech and the way he avoided eating. I remembered trying to speak to him alone while we collected wood, only for him to drift away without answering. I remembered how he had never once removed his jacket, even when the walking warmed us.

Across the clearing, Elliot stood staring at his brother's body. Horror had emptied his face.

He took one unsteady step, then another, before collapsing to his knees beside Daniel.

"No," he moaned. The sound was raw and animal. "No. No, no, no."

Louise appeared at the opposite edge of the clearing.

She moved slowly now, as if she had all the time in the world.

Her attention was not on Daniel's decaying body.

It was fixed on Elliot's unprotected back as he knelt beside his dead brother.

There was no shock in Louise's expression. No horror, no grief. Instead, she smiled. It was a cold, satisfied curl of the lips that prickled the skin along my arms, as though she were proud of what she had done.

Our eyes met across the clearing, and in that moment I knew who had killed Daniel. I knew who had led us through this sick game in the forest, who had planted the antique knife for me to find and screamed to draw me back to camp.

Elliot must have seen the truth in her face, because he turned towards her, looking up through tear-filled eyes. Her smile did not falter. If anything, it widened as she watched him understand.

"What did you do?" he whispered.

The words were barely audible across the clearing.

Louise reached inside her jacket and drew out a knife. It was not the rusty antique blade I had found and shown to Elliot. This was a larger, modern hunting knife with a serrated edge. A shaft of sunlight caught the steel.

"He deserved it," she said. Her voice was calm and conversational, as though she were discussing the weather. "Both of them did."

"Both?"

My thoughts raced. Daniel and someone else. Another victim from before, perhaps, someone else who had trusted her or crossed her path.

Elliot's grief turned to rage in an instant. He launched himself at Louise with a shout, reaching for her. She moved with frightening speed, stepping aside as he charged and slashing the knife across him in one smooth motion.

The blade opened his stomach. Blood spread through his shirt almost at once.

Elliot staggered, clamping both hands over the wound. He managed one more step before dropping to his knees. Louise stood over him with the knife hanging loosely at her side, that appalling smile still on her face.

Then she turned towards me.

Her eyes were wild, stripped of anything I could recognise as human. I could not move. Beside Daniel's severed head, the battered pocket voice recorder continued to play.

"Tom. Tom."

I had to move. I had to do something.

My hands were still bound behind my back, the cord biting into my wrists. I edged away as Louise approached. My heel struck something solid: a thick fallen branch.

I dropped to one knee and groped behind me until my fingers closed around rough bark. Louise came nearer, the hunting knife held low beside her thigh. Elliot's blood dripped from its point and darkened the earth.

"Don't run, Tom," she said softly. "It only makes it better for me."

I worked the branch between my bound hands and forced myself upright. I would have one chance, one movement before she put that knife into me.

When she stepped within reach, I swung with all the strength I had.

The branch struck her temple with a sickening crack. Her head snapped sideways and she collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. The knife flew from her hand and landed in the dirt several metres away.

I stood frozen, still gripping the branch behind my back, my breath tearing in and out of me. I had never hit anyone like that. Pain ran through my shoulders, and the cord seemed to cut deeper into my wrists.

Elliot moaned.

He was hunched over, pressing both hands to his abdomen. Blood welled between his fingers, soaking his shirt. His face had gone grey, and every breath was thin and laboured.

Despite the wound, he began dragging himself towards Louise's fallen knife.

"Go," he rasped as his fingers closed around the handle. "Run."

I stumbled towards him, shaking my head.

"Not without you."

Elliot forced himself back onto his knees. Barely able to hold the knife, he gestured for me to turn round. I did, and he sawed through the cord around my wrists.

Pain flared as the blood returned to my hands, but I was grateful to feel anything at all. I seized his arm and pulled it over my shoulder.

"Come on."

He tried to stand, then almost folded. He was so heavy against me that I nearly went down with him. Blood continued to pour from the gash across his stomach, but I braced myself and took as much of his weight as I could.

A sound came from behind us.

It was not a cry of pain. It was laughter.

It began quietly, then grew until it seemed to fill the clearing. I looked back.

Louise was sitting up. Blood matted the hair at her temple where the branch had struck her. Her mouth hung open in a hideous smile, and the laughter came out of her as though it belonged to something else.

"Don't stop now," she called in a playful, sing-song voice. "This is the fun part."

Elliot tensed against me.

"Go," he whispered again. There was naked fear in his eyes. "Now."

This time I did not argue.

Supporting as much of his weight as I could, I half carried and half dragged him towards the trees on the far side of the clearing. We went away from the path by which we had arrived, away from Louise's laughter and away from Daniel's mutilated body beneath the old pine, his severed head resting in his lap.

We crashed through the undergrowth. Branches whipped our faces and roots caught at our boots. Every step threatened to bring us down. My twisted ankle sent bolts of pain up my leg, but adrenaline smothered most of it.

Elliot grew heavier. His breathing became harsher, and each step cost him more than the last. Louise's laughter followed us, seeming to come from every direction at once. It bounced among the trunks and doubled back until I could not tell whether she was behind us, beside us or waiting somewhere ahead.

I pushed on blindly. I had no direction and no plan beyond putting distance between her and us.

After what felt like hours, though it could only have been a few minutes, the sound of running water cut through the noise of the woodland.

A burn appeared between the trees, sunlight flashing on its surface. I adjusted my hold on Elliot and struggled towards it. The bank sloped down to clear, shallow water about three metres across, flowing quickly over smooth stones.

Without hesitating, I guided him into it. The cold made him gasp and clutch my shoulder more tightly.

"Water runs downhill," I panted. "If we follow it, we might reach a forestry track. Or walkers. Anyone."

Elliot nodded, too weak to speak. Blood trailed from his wound in thin red threads that twisted away in the current.

We waded downstream. The icy water numbed my injured ankle and soaked my boots and trousers to the knees. The bed of the burn was easier to cross than the tangled forest floor, and I hoped the current would obscure our trail if Louise followed.

For nearly ten minutes we moved without speaking, concentrating on one step, then the next, then the next breath. At last Elliot broke the silence. His voice was scarcely audible above the water.

"I tried to warn Daniel," he said. "About her. He wouldn't listen."

I tightened my grip as more of his weight sagged against me.

"Save your strength."

"No." He gave a weak shake of his head. "You need to know, in case I don't..."

"You'll make it," I said, although the pallor of his face and the blood he had lost told me something else.

"Louise was in secure psychiatric care," he continued, each word dragged out through pain. "Ashcombe Secure Hospital, near Glasgow. She nearly killed her last boyfriend. Stabbed him seventeen times."

I stared at him.

Daniel had told us that he had met Louise through therapy, but he had made it sound ordinary - some sort of support network after a bad breakup. He had never said anything about secure treatment or attempted murder.

"How do you know?"

Elliot's breath caught before he answered.

"Never trusted her. Something in her eyes. The way she watched Daniel when she thought no one was looking. Like he was prey."

He paused to summon enough strength to continue.

"I did some digging. Found old reports about her case. Daniel hadn't met her in an ordinary support group. He'd volunteered with a charity that ran carefully supervised correspondence and recovery sessions linked to Ashcombe. She contacted him again later, after she said she'd been discharged. I warned him. He said she was better. Said I was paranoid."

The burn curved ahead of us and the woodland opened slightly. On our left, the bank broadened into a strip of gravel and moss that looked easier than the rocky water.

I helped Elliot out, keeping close to the edge. He collapsed against a fallen trunk, his face almost colourless.

"Let me see."

I eased his hand away from the wound. The cut was deep and still bleeding freely, although the cold water appeared to have slowed it a little. I pulled off my overshirt, wadded it tightly and pressed it against his abdomen.

Elliot hissed through his teeth but did not push me away.

"We have to keep moving," I said, although I had no idea how much farther he could go. "Can you stand?"

He nodded. When I hauled him upright, his legs buckled immediately. I caught him before he hit the ground.

"Just need a minute," he gasped.

We did not have a minute. Louise was somewhere behind us, injured but conscious, and she still had the advantage of knowing what she had planned.

I searched our surroundings for anything useful: a path, a marker post, the pale strip of a forestry track. There was nothing but trees and the burn.

The late-September sun was already sinking. Soon the temperature would fall sharply, and darkness would swallow the woodland.

"What about Daniel?" I asked, desperate to keep Elliot awake. "What happened to him?"

His eyelids fluttered.

"Don't know. He rang last week. Said he needed to tell me something important. Sounded frightened. Then nothing until the messages about this trip."

Cold settled through me that had nothing to do with my wet clothes.

Had Daniel discovered something about Louise? Had she realised he knew? The timing was impossible. If the corpse in the clearing was Daniel's, it had been dead for several days. The smell and decomposition made Louise's claim that she had watched me stab him that morning an obvious lie.

Yet Elliot and I had seen Daniel the previous day. We had walked beside him. We had listened to him tell the story of Silas Crowther and Edith by the fire.

Unless...

Elliot almost slipped from my grasp as the thought struck me.

That could not have been Daniel. Not the Daniel whose body lay in the clearing. He had been dead long before our arrival, perhaps since the day he had telephoned Elliot.

But if Daniel had already been dead, who had sent the messages arranging the weekend? Who had walked the six miles into the Cairngorm woodland with us?

I thought back over everything that had felt wrong. Daniel's insistence on this particular remote place west of Rothiemurchus. His demand that we surrender our mobile phones. The odd pauses in his speech and the way he repeated familiar stories without the details he should have remembered. The clothes that looked like his but did not sit quite properly. His failure to eat more than a mouthful at dinner. The way every attempt at a private conversation had been interrupted or diverted.

Louise had clearly gained access to his messages and recordings. She had planned the trip and planted the recorder. But she could not simply have disguised herself as Daniel. Elliot was his brother, and I had known him since our first-year halls allocation at university. No ordinary disguise could have deceived us at arm's length for an entire day.

Then I remembered the pale man who had vanished among the trees that morning, and the silent watcher outside our camp during the night.

An accomplice.

It was the only explanation my mind could tolerate. Someone had helped Louise. Someone who had arranged the messages, led us into the forest and somehow made us believe we were walking beside Daniel Harper.

Even as I formed the theory, I knew how impossible it sounded.

Elliot groaned, wrenching me back to the present. His skin looked waxy now, and he was taking quick, shallow breaths. He needed medical help at once.

I opened my mouth to tell him we had to move, but a sound reached me through the trees.

Voices.

People were speaking somewhere in the distance. The wind carried the words too faintly for me to understand them, but they were unmistakably human.

"Hello!" I shouted. My voice echoed through the woodland. "Help! We need help!"

Elliot stirred and opened his eyes.

"What?"

"I can hear people. It might be a search team."

Hope surged through me so sharply it hurt.

"Hello! We're by the burn! We need medical help!"

I shouted until my throat burned, straining for an answer.

For several unbearable seconds, there was nothing. Then a distant voice called, "Tom Calder? Is that you?"

Relief nearly dropped me to my knees beside Elliot.

"Yes! Here! He's badly hurt!"

The voices drew closer. Branches snapped and undergrowth thrashed. Three people in bright outdoor rescue kit emerged between the trees and hurried towards us.

"Thank God," I breathed, waving frantically. "Over here. He's been stabbed."

They broke into a run. The team leader reached us first, took one look at Elliot's blood-soaked shirt and pale face, then dropped beside him.

"Owen, update control and request urgent ambulance support," he ordered.

One of the other volunteers was already speaking into his radio.

The leader looked up at me. "I'm Calum Fraser, Cairngorm Mountain Rescue. You're Tom Calder?"

I nodded, startled that he knew my name.

"The outdoor-hire shop in Aviemore reported that your equipment hadn't been returned. Your car was then found at the Loch an Eilein walkers' car park, and the trip details left with the shop placed your party in this area. Police Scotland asked us to join the missing-person search."

His gaze moved to Elliot's wound.

"Who did this?"

"Louise Vane. She killed Daniel Harper and attacked us. She's still out there."

Calum's expression hardened. He glanced into the trees, then used his radio to pass the information to Police Scotland. There was no weapon on his belt, only rescue equipment.

"Where did it happen?"

I pointed back the way we had come.

"In a clearing roughly ten metres across. An old pine near the centre. Daniel's body was there, or it was when we escaped."

The third volunteer, Gareth, stepped forward with an open first-aid kit.

"Let me get to him."

I moved aside. Gareth cut away Elliot's blood-soaked shirt, exposing the long, deep wound across his abdomen. He applied a trauma dressing and firm pressure, working with controlled speed.

"Pulse is weak but present," he said. "We need him out quickly."

Owen's radio crackled. He listened, answered, then turned to Calum.

"Scottish Ambulance Service can meet us on the forestry track to the north. Police are heading there as well."

Calum studied Elliot and the ground ahead.

"He won't walk it. We'll carry him. Gareth, get the stretcher frame and casualty bag out."

The volunteers unpacked a lightweight folding mountain-rescue stretcher and insulated Elliot against the cold. They secured the dressing, eased him onto the stretcher and fastened the straps with great care.

His eyes opened briefly as they lifted him.

"Daniel," he whispered.

"They'll find him," I said, although I did not know whether Elliot meant Daniel's body or the truth of what had happened to him.

We began the slow journey towards the forestry track. Owen and Gareth carried the stretcher while Calum walked beside me, continually checking Elliot, the ground and the trees around us.

"Tell me what happened," he said quietly. "Start at the beginning and include everything you can remember."

So I did.

I told him about reaching the wild-camping spot, Daniel's strange behaviour and the story beside the fire. I told him about the antique knife planted for me to find, the argument in the night, the sound of the tent zip and the silent figure watching from the trees. I described Daniel's disappearance, Louise's bloodstained cuff and her scream that drew us back. I told him how the compass had become unreliable, how Louise accused me of stabbing Daniel and helped Elliot bind my hands, and how Daniel's recorded voice had drawn us into the clearing.

Then I described the headless corpse beneath the pine, the recorder repeating my name, Louise's confession, her attack on Elliot and our escape through the woodland.

Calum listened without interrupting. When I finished, he asked, "You're certain the body had been decapitated?"

I nodded, nausea rising at the memory.

"His head was in his lap. She had put the voice recorder against his mouth. It kept saying my name."

Calum sent a brief coded update over the radio. I could not follow all of it, but I heard references to a potential crime scene, an armed suspect and a request that police officers secure the area before anyone approached the clearing.

The sun sank lower, stretching shadows between the trees. Every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig made me flinch. I kept expecting Louise's smiling face to emerge from the gathering dark.

After what felt like an hour, we reached a narrow forestry track. A Scottish Ambulance Service vehicle waited there with its lights flashing silently, alongside a Police Scotland van. Two ambulance clinicians stood ready with a trolley.

Elliot was transferred at once. They fitted an oxygen mask, established intravenous access and attached monitors while asking the rescuers for his observations.

One of them examined my ankle, which had swollen badly, and wrapped it in a compression bandage.

"You need that checked at hospital," she said. "You'll come with us."

I was too exhausted to object.

As I climbed into the ambulance beside Elliot's stretcher, Calum stopped me for a moment.

"Police officers are going in with our search members to locate the clearing," he said. "Someone from Police Scotland will take a full statement once the doctors have seen you."

The doors closed. We jolted along the forestry track before reaching a proper road, where the ride became smoother.

I sat beside Elliot and watched the clinicians work. His colour improved slightly with oxygen, fluids and warmth, although the monitor still showed how precarious his condition was.

Through the rear windows, I watched the woodland recede until the trees became black shapes against a red September sky.

Somewhere among them, Louise was still moving. Still watching. Perhaps still laughing.

The next twelve hours blurred into hospital corridors, medical examinations and interviews with Police Scotland. My ankle was not broken, only severely sprained. The cuts around my wrists were cleaned and dressed.

Elliot underwent emergency surgery to repair damage to his intestines and received several blood transfusions. The consultant later told me he was fortunate. The blade had missed the major arteries and most of his vital organs.

Fortunate. The word felt obscene after what we had survived.

I first gave an initial account to the local officers dealing with the missing-person response. Once the seriousness of the case became clear, detectives from Police Scotland's Major Investigation Team took over. They allowed me time to receive treatment, then recorded a formal interview with me as a witness. Each time I spoke, the facts remained the same: Daniel's decomposing, decapitated body beneath the pine, the recorder against his mouth, Louise's attack and our flight along the burn.

Each time, the officers exchanged guarded looks I could not interpret.

I was placed in a side room with a Police Scotland constable outside the door. They said it was for my protection. I lay awake through the night, starting at every footstep in the corridor and seeing Louise's smile whenever I closed my eyes.

Morning arrived as grey light through the blinds. I had not slept. My bandaged wrists throbbed, and pain pulsed through my ankle despite the tablets.

A knock at the door made me jerk upright.

A woman in plain clothes entered and showed me her warrant card.

"Mr Calder, I'm Detective Inspector Sarah Kersey, Major Investigation Team. How are you feeling?"

She had short grey hair and a tired, composed face. She took the chair beside my bed.

"As though I've been hit by a lorry," I said. "How's Elliot?"

"Stable. The surgery went well, and the doctors expect him to survive."

Some of the tension left my chest.

Kersey studied me for a moment before continuing.

"We found the clearing you described."

My heart began to race.

"And Daniel? Louise?"

Her expression remained neutral.

"The location matched your account. A clearing approximately ten metres across, with an old pine near the centre. There was a substantial quantity of blood on the ground and bark, as well as signs of a struggle."

"But Daniel wasn't there."

The emptiness inside me widened as I said it.

"No," she replied. "There was no body, and we found no trace of Louise Vane at the scene."

I had expected that, but hearing it confirmed still struck hard. Removing Daniel's body through that terrain would have required time, strength and planning, particularly after Louise had been injured. She could not have carried him far by herself. Either she had prepared some means of moving him, someone else had helped her, or something had happened in those woods that I could not explain.

"We did recover one item," Kersey said.

She showed me a photograph on a police tablet. In it, sealed inside a clear evidence bag, was the battered pocket voice recorder.

"It was found on the ground near the pine."

My mouth went dry.

"That's it. It was beside Daniel's head."

Kersey nodded.

"Digital examination indicates that the file you heard has been replaced. The current recording was created after you escaped. That suggests Vane returned to the clearing, or that someone acting with her accessed the recorder there."

"What does it say?"

"I can play it if you want to hear it."

I did not want to. Every part of me recoiled from the thought, but I nodded.

Kersey tapped the tablet. Louise's voice filled the room, clear and intimate, as though she were sitting beside my bed.

"Hello, Tom. I'm sorry we were interrupted. That was rude of Elliot, wasn't it? Don't worry. I'll find you again. We have unfinished business, you and I. See you soon."

The recording ended.

My hands had clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms.

After a moment, Kersey said, "Tell me everything you know about Louise Vane."

I repeated what Elliot had told me: Ashcombe Secure Hospital near Glasgow, the boyfriend she had stabbed seventeen times, and Daniel's belief that she had recovered.

Kersey showed no surprise.

"Louise Vane escaped from Ashcombe three months ago," she said. "She killed two members of staff during the escape, a nurse and a security officer. Both suffered multiple stab wounds. Both were decapitated after death."

The room seemed to tilt.

Three months. She had been free for three months, and in that time she had found Daniel again.

"Daniel told us he'd met her through therapy," I said.

"Not exactly. Mr Harper volunteered with a rehabilitation charity that had previously worked with carefully selected Ashcombe patients under supervision. He met Vane through that programme before it was suspended. After her escape, she contacted him directly and claimed she had been lawfully discharged. We believe she exploited their earlier contact and his sympathy for her."

"And the two staff members she killed? How did she get close enough to them?"

"The nurse had been closely involved in her treatment. The security officer had regular contact with her on the ward. Vane can be persuasive when she chooses. She studies people, establishes what they want to believe and presents herself accordingly."

Kersey leaned forward.

"Mr Calder, I cannot promise that you are in no danger. Vane is injured, but she has already shown herself capable of planning and extreme violence. Police Scotland has officers searching access routes, forestry tracks and nearby properties, supported by mountain rescue teams and specialist search resources. Until she is found, we intend to maintain protection for you and Mr Harper."

I nodded, but neither of us pretended that a constable outside the door made everything safe.

Louise had removed Daniel's body from a remote clearing without being seen. She had returned to the recorder and changed its message after Elliot and I escaped. She had either planned every stage with extraordinary care or she had not acted alone.

If she wanted to disappear, I believed she could. If she wanted to find me again, I believed that too.

"What about Daniel?" I asked. "Can his family hold a funeral?"

Kersey's expression softened.

"Not yet. Until his remains are recovered and formally identified, he remains a missing person, although the evidence supports your account. His family have been informed."

His family. His parents, waiting without a body to bury. Elliot, who would carry the scars of that weekend for the rest of his life.

"Try to rest, Mr Calder," Kersey said, standing. "The constable will remain outside while we arrange longer-term protection. I'll speak to you again later."

She left, and the door clicked shut behind her.

I stared at the ceiling, replaying the message in my mind. It was not merely the words that frightened me. It was Louise's tone: conversational, almost friendly, as though we shared a private joke.

At last exhaustion began to pull me under. I closed my eyes.

Just before sleep came, one final question rose into my thoughts. It stayed with me for days afterwards, growing worse each time I considered it.

Louise might have read Daniel's messages. She might have known that he intended to take us wild camping somewhere west of Rothiemurchus. But the precise site had never appeared in the group messages, and Daniel had claimed he would choose it only after we reached the woodland.

So how had Louise known exactly where Daniel intended us to camp?