The line of land they were following could hardly be described as a path, yet every rock they stepped on, every tree root they walked around and every branch they ducked under felt like a hidden entrance. They passed an old oak and Lachlan experienced something he wouldn’t have thought was possible. The immediate animalistic sense of marked territory. This part of the woods belonged to something.

“We shouldn’t be here” he told his sister. “I really don’t think we should be here.”
Anne looked back with a smile that could have equally been described as angelic or demonic. “It’s okay, he’s expecting us. I’ve told him all about you, silly.”

Lachlan was about to ask her what she meant but he didn’t get the chance. A sudden thud of landing behind him was followed by a cold hand that felt like bone itself clasping around his mouth. He was aware of the feeling of being lifted from the ground at quite a sudden pace and what he thought was the sound of Anne squealing. She sounded far off.