Wednesday, January 8: The Dry Well
The sun was a pale disk in the gray sky as Jas, Ivy Mae, and Roman trudged through the snow toward the old barn. The creek, their main source of water, was frozen nearly solid, leaving them no choice but to try the abandoned well.
Roman led the way, his eyes scanning the trees with a wariness that made Jas uneasy. He’d been quiet since they’d packed up to leave the cabin, gripping the handle of his hatchet tightly.
“Are you okay?” Jas asked as they paused to catch their breath halfway there.
Roman nodded but didn’t look at them. “I’m fine. Just... keep moving.”
Ivy shot Jas a glance, her expression curious but not questioning. They pressed on, the crunch of snow underfoot the only sound in the still air.
The barn loomed ahead, its weathered wood gray and splintered with age. The old well stood nearby, leaning slightly to one side as if burdened by decades of neglect.
Ivy wasted no time tying the rope she’d brought from the cabin to a rusted crank. Jas lowered the bucket carefully into the well, the rope hissing as it slipped through their gloved hands.
“It’s deep,” they muttered, the bucket finally hitting water with a faint splash.
Ivy leaned over to peer into the well. “Water’s water. Let’s haul it up and get back before it gets too dark.”
The bucket came up heavy with murky water, its surface dotted with bits of debris. Roman frowned but said nothing as Ivy added purification tablets.
“That should do it,” she said, tucking the bottle of tablets back into her pocket.
As they started the trek back to the cabin, the light began to fade, and the cold seemed to deepen. Roman stopped abruptly, his shoulders stiff.
“What is it?” Ivy whispered.
He didn’t answer, his head tilting slightly as if listening for something.
Jas felt the hair on their arms stand up. “Roman, what’s wrong?”
“Keep walking,” Roman said, his voice low and tense.
A soft sound reached their ears, barely audible over the crunch of snow. It wasn’t a howl or a growl—more like a low, rumbling hum that made Jas’s chest tighten.
Ivy looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide. “That’s not... that’s not an animal, is it?”
Roman didn’t answer, his grip tightening on the hatchet. “Just keep moving.”
They quickened their pace, the sound growing fainter as they neared the cabin. But when they finally reached the porch and set the bucket down, Roman didn’t relax.
He lingered at the window, staring out at the dark forest. Jas joined him hesitantly.
“Do you think it was—”
“Sasquatch,” Roman interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Could’ve been.”
Jas blinked. “You believe in that?”
Roman’s jaw tightened. “I’ve heard enough stories to take it seriously. My grandmother used to say they don’t bother people unless we bother them first. But...” He trailed off, his gaze fixed on the trees.
“But what?” Ivy asked, stepping up beside them.
Roman hesitated before answering. “If they’re watching us, there’s a reason.”
The cabin fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the shutters and carrying with it the faintest echo of the sound they’d heard earlier.
No one slept easy that night.