Trap

The jeep's tires crunched over loose gravel before coming to a halt at the forest's edge. The engine gave one final, low growl beneath the leaden sky. Devon's gloved hands tightened on the steering wheel. For hours, we had followed the trail left by Robin and Hans. Now, that trail seemed to have been swallowed whole, vanishing into the forest's gaping maw, which was thick with a clinging white mist. "Sir!" A soldier, his boots caked in mud, ran up to the vehicle, breathing heavily. "The prisoners...  Their tracks lead into the woods and then just disappear. The fog is It dense." Devon pushed his door open. His combat boots sank into the damp earth, leaving deep impressions. I followed, the cold air stinging my cheeks. The moment I stepped across the tree line, the fog wrapped around me like a damp shroud, seeping through the fabric of my uniform. It was unnatural—too thick, too still, hovering a hand's breadth above the ground, coiling around the bases of ancient oaks. The branches tw