"You're lucky," Beth said, holding the door for Penelope and her dad as they stepped into the cabin. "You're the first people to check-in to this one since we renovated."

Penelope didn't know if lucky was the right word to describe her, but she had to admit that the place was nice. The backside of the cabin was all windows, looking out on the forest. A retro fireplace was set into one corner, its long chimney rising through the open rafters, with a new leather couch laid out in front. Against the far wall, a set of black-metal stairs led up to the loft.

This was the kind of place she would've loved to stay in and take lots of pictures of for her Instagram before everything went to shit. Instead, she dropped their food on the polished-concrete counter and went to the wall of windows.

Her dad let out a low whistle. "It's beautiful," he said before turning back to face Beth. "Really, it's a lovely place. But, uh," he shot a quick glance at Penelope, "to be honest, I was hoping for something, I dunno, a bit more... Remote? Y'see, we're big hikers and—"

Beth's face fell. "Oh."

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," her dad countered, getting flustered again. He was easy to fluster.

"Unfortunately, since it's the start of the season, you'll be hard-pressed to find anything else," Beth explained. "Most everything is booked already. You got this place on a cancellation. Like I said, lucky."

"Oh, really?" her dad said, his shoulders sinking.

"I get it," Beth said, her demeanour easing with a wave of her hand. "My wife and I are big outdoors types, too. Y'know what? I'll ask around. And until you find something else, we're happy to have you. There are some good hikes around here, too. There's even a lovely li'l path around the lake." She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, through the wall of windows, towards the forest.

Penelope leaned closer to the windows, squinting her eyes as she looked for the path Beth mentioned. It took her a moment to spot it, but there it was—a gap between the thick, green trees with a small path beneath them. Beth had been right; it did look lovely.

"Actually dad," Penelope whispered to her dad while Beth was busy listing off the other amenities of the campground. "I think I'm gonna go for that walk."

"Oh, yeah?" he said, perking up. "Go for it! I'll get us set up here. Speaking of... Hey Beth, Do you have another set of keys for the place? I'd like to give Pen—Peaseblossom her own set."

"Not on me," Beth answered, already halfway up the stairs to the loft. "We re-keyed the place during renos. But I'll send my kid into town to get a new set cut for you—"

Penelope stepped away from the two of them, leaving them to their conversation. She hoped Beth wouldn't mind her leaving without a proper goodbye. She needed to get out of here.

As Penelope stepped outside, she could hear the squeals of children on the playground. She shuddered and headed for the forest, leaving their shrieks behind. She wanted nothing more than to spend some time alone—

"Wait!"

Penelope turned. Her dad was at the door of the cabin. He swung out, tossing something at her. "Catch!"

Penelope did and her catch crunched in her hand. She realized it was the plastic donut container, the donut still inside, its pink icing now smeared from bouncing around.

"What th—?" Penelope began.

"You haven't eaten anything," her dad said, trying his best to be serious-dad. "You'll need your energy for your walk." He gave her a cheesy wink and disappeared back inside before she could argue.

She sighed. He wasn't wrong. She hadn't eaten anything since... Well, since they had left the city. That was hours ago. Though her stomach wasn't complaining, she knew it would, soon enough. She should eat something. As she walked towards the path, she popped open the plastic container, tore off a piece of the donut, and popped it in her mouth. It was exactly how she liked donuts—dense, like cake—but her lack of appetite made it taste off.

She had to eat, though. She tore off another piece and shoved it in her mouth, forcing herself to chew.

Soon enough, she reached the path. It looked even prettier up close. It was no hike, to be sure; the path was as manicured as the rest of the grounds, and the trees lining the entrance had been carefully cut so that they formed an arch overhead. At the foot of one of them was a tidy little sign that read: DANGER - STAY ON THE PATH.

Penelope rolled her eyes as she picked up another piece of donut. Sure. These woods looked so idyllic and well kept that they hardly looked dangerous—

Something dark swooped over her head.

"Hey!" Penelope snapped, dropping the piece of donut.

The dark thing swooped again, this time, landing in front of her. It chased after the dropped donut chunk, flapping its wings with glee.

A bird, glossy and black. A crow, or a raven, though Penelope could never remember how to tell the difference. Whatever it was, it was big. The size of it reminded Penelope of something her mom used to say—she had called the big black birds that haunted campsite trash bins 'Yukon Turkeys' because they were certainly big enough to rival one.

"Damn bird," Penelope huffed, taking a fresh piece of donut to replace the one that was lost. "Get out of here."

The bird just squawked at her and hopped around on the grass in front of her, as if it were doing a little dance.

Penelope glared at it. Sometimes the wildlife around campgrounds would learn to butter up the tourists to get food. Crows and ravens, the cleverest of them all, were usually the first to learn. But she wasn't a rube. She took the rest of the donut and shoved it in her mouth.

"Thurr," she mumbled through her full mouth. "No murr."

Squawk! The bird sounded almost offended. It ruffled its wings and then flew away, back into the boughs of the trees.

Penelope tucked the plastic container in her pocket and followed the bird, heading beneath the leaves and onto the path. Here, it was peaceful and cool. The sunlight filtered through the canopy, pricks of sunlight dancing across the carefully groomed gravel. The path's edge was lined with small stones and garden lights. Even the trees seemed too straight, like they had been planted here just to line the path.

It was clear that someone had put a lot of effort into making this place nice. It was all very... safe. Despite this, the signs were here, too, placed every few feet alongside the garden lights. DANGER - STAY ON THE PATH.

Geez, Penelope thought. Had they got sued by some parents who lost their kids in the woods or something?

Just as she thought it, a screaming child ran past.

"Hunter, please!" said a woman in a jean jacket and maxi dress, chasing after him. "Can we please have a nice walk?"

But Hunter had a stick and was now smacking the trees, the lights, the signs, and anything else near him.

"C'mon, buddy," said a man in a sports jersey, following up behind them. He had a little girl on his shoulders who was squealing and reaching for the branches overhead. "We're on vacation!"

The family barely noticed her as they passed, but she watched them with wary eyes. So much for her peaceful walk. She pulled up her hood and hung back, hoping that she could put some distance between them before continuing.

But as she waited, her eye caught on something between the trees.

Beyond the manicured tree line and the warning signs was a thin line of dirt that wound between the undergrowth. Another path. It ran parallel to the path she was on before it twisted away and led off into the distance.

Curiosity twitched inside her. She'd like to see where it led...

Maybe somewhere quiet.

She shot a glance at the family ahead. The last thing she needed was for the precocious Hunter to follow after her. But the child and his parents were preoccupied with wrestling over the stick. No one was paying any notice to her.

Perfect.

She stepped over the rock-lined path edge and into the forest...

"Excuse me," came a voice from behind her.

Penelope span around.

A man was standing there, staring at her. He had a thick beard and long ponytail, and his hat was pulled down low over his eyes.

Who is he? Penelope wondered. Does he work here? As she took in his well-worn pair of overalls and the rake he held in one hand, she figured he must—perhaps he was some kind of groundskeeper.

"The signs say to stay on the path," said the man in a low voice.

"S-Sorry," Penelope said, scampering back from the edge. "I was just curious..."

"The signs are for your safety," the man said. "The woods can be very dangerous."

"I know," Penelope said. "I've done a lot of hiking, I'm perfectly—"

The man just shook his head, like he didn't believe her, or he didn't care. "Just stay out of the woods, okay? The path is safe."

"Sure, whatever you say."

They stared at each other. Penelope was waiting for him to leave, but it didn't look like he was going to, not until he could trust she wasn't going to wander back into the woods.

Penelope tore her gaze away. "Y'know, I'm just gonna... go, actually." She inched back towards the entrance.

The man eyed her, then nodded and finally turned away. He headed up the path, to where Hunter had done his damage. The family was long gone now, almost at the other end. The man busied himself with righting the knocked-over lights and smoothing out the gravel with his rake.

So, she had been right. He was the groundskeeper, the one who was responsible for this perfect path, and for the pristine campground. He took a lot of pride in his work, though Penelope wasn't sure why.

Or why he was so insistent that she stay out of the woods.

That path was there for a reason. It led somewhere.

Moving quietly as possible, Penelope kept her eye on the groundskeeper as she stepped back off the path. She scrambled through the brush until she found the dirt path again, then dashed down it, getting as far from the proper one as she could.

Once she was sure she was out of sight, she slowed.

Peace, at last.

Here, there was green on all sides except for the dark dirt under her feet. The only sounds were the gentle breeze rustling the leaves and the distant bird song from up in the treetops. The breeze pushed at Penelope's back as she walked like it was urging her forward. The path was narrow but clear, well-worn and easy to follow. Thankfully, it only led in one direction so it would be easy enough for Penelope to follow back.

Soon enough, the green in the distance began to thin. Something was glittering on the other side. Penelope knew she must be nearing the water and picked up her pace. As she neared, she could see the lake sprawling out between the trees.

Leaving the forest behind, she stepped out onto a small stone beach. The light breeze that stirred the leaves now sent gentle ripples across the lake's surface. There was evidence that people came here often. Driftwood had been dragged onto the beach to serve as seating, set around a small circular fire pit made from the largest of the beach stones with some charred wood inside.

No wonder the groundskeeper had wanted to keep her from the path. This must be the owner's private spot. But they weren't here now and she wouldn't stay long. For now, this was the perfect place to just hideout for a bit...

Penelope dropped herself down on the closest driftwood log, one that had been weathered smooth. It was peaceful here, even more so than the woods. The lapping lake at the beach's edge made a soft rhythm as it rushed over the smooth stones. Penelope twisted herself to lie down across the log, looking up into the sky. The day was proving to be perfect, the sky a cloudless blue, flawless and beautiful.

She was hit with the sudden urge to whip out her phone, to take a picture and post it to Instagram. She even found her hand in her pocket before she realized what she was doing. But the pocket was empty and, for the first time in a long time, her phone wasn't with her. It was in her bag, back at the cabin, keeping the Internet at a safe distance.

But even if the Internet couldn't reach her here, the thoughts could. Thinking of her phone, of just why she hadn't brought it, only stirred them up. She pulled her hood down until it was over her eyes, blocking out the perfect sky. She tried to force her mind to go blank before it went any further down those dark paths. But striving for blankness made her mind do the exact opposite. The dark things she hoped to escape out here, at least for a little while, began to creep up on her....

How could I be so stupid?

Why had I ever believed Daevon?

How had I not seen it?

Had anything Daevon told me been real?

"FOLLOW ME."

Penelope lurched up and slid off the smooth log, landing hard on the bumpy rocks. For a moment she struggled to find her footing on the uneven stones but eventually managed to claw her way back up the log before turning to the forest's edge. She expected to find the sour-faced groundskeeper, ready to tell her off, or maybe Beth—

But there was no one there.

Penelope blinked hard as she scoured the small beach. It couldn't have just been her mind. She had heard those words very clearly. Maybe someone was hiding in the trees, or the wind had carried sound across the lake. She turned, then, to the lake to see just how far the paths had diverged.

Quite a bit. In the distance, Penelope could make out a simple boardwalk that made its way alongside the lake's edge. It dipped out at places, becoming a sort of dock, or pulled back, weaving in and out of the trees. Penelope could barely make out the young family from earlier, almost at the other side of the small lake. Could sound travel that far?

"FOLLOW ME."

This time, Penelope was sure the voice was close, just behind her. She spun around—

A fat black bird sat on the edge of the firepit, staring at her.

"FOLLOW ME," it croaked in a strange, deep voice.

Penelope stared back, frozen where she stood. She couldn't be sure, but she thought it might be the same bird from before.

The bird opened its mouth, ready to speak. Penelope waited for the words to come, but then the bird made another noise, a weird dense sound that reminded her of...

A phone ping?

This sparked something in Penelope's memory, another thing her mother had told her about Yukon Turkeys. Birds of the corvid family—including magpies, ravens, and crows—were expert mimics. They could learn to imitate everything from other bird calls to common sounds, to even human speech.

The chills receded from her skin. Damn bird. "Who taught you that?"

The bird tilted its little head at her and hopped closer. It clicked its beak at her, its shiny black eyes fixed on her face. "FOLLOW," it rasped again, looking at her expectantly.

Penelope rolled her eyes. The clever little bird must've learned this trick from a visitor while begging for food.

"I have no food for you," Penelope said, showing the bird her empty hands.

The bird didn't seem to believe her. It squawked and made the ping noise again before hopping closer.

Penelope backed away. "I said, I don't have anything."

The bird hopped closer, insistent.

"Shoo!" she said, sweeping her hand out between the two of them, forcing the bird to hop back.

"I wouldn't do that." A real person's voice this time.

Penelope turned back to the path's entrance. This time, a person was standing there, a tall guy who looked like he might be the same age as her. He was wearing a grey hoodie and the undercut he sported had grown out so that his dark brown bangs hung in his eyes. Even so, his dark eyes stared out at Penelope, studying her, in a way that reminded her of the bird's.

"W-What?" Penelope sputtered.

"Ravens remember faces," the strange guy said. "If you're mean to them, they'll remember it. And they'll tell their friends. And then they'll be mean right back."

Penelope turned to look at the fat black bird. So, the bird was a raven. She felt a little dumb—she supposed, considering what town she was visiting, that should've been her first guess. "It was bothering me."

"They do that," the guy said, the rocks rattling under his feet as he stepped out onto the beach. "You know this is private property, right?"

Penelope turned back to the guy. "Yeah, I'm renting one of the cabins at the campground."

His dark eyes narrowed. "This isn't part of the campground. You're not supposed to be here."

Penelope felt very exposed. She was suddenly aware that she was alone with some stranger out in the depths of the woods. He was studying her face and she was glad her signature teal hair was tucked away, into her hood. He was her age, after all—he could easily recognize her, if not from her channel, then definitely from the commentary videos that were inevitably popping up now, detailing the drama of it all.

She pulled the hood down, closer to her face. "Sorry. I was—I was just leaving."

The guy didn't say anything as she brushed past him and disappeared back into the woods. Only the bird called after her with a loud squawk.