They didn’t run. They watched. Two deer stepped from the tree line like they’d been waiting for me,
like this moment wasn’t an accident but an appointment.
One of them walked close—too close—and dropped something at my feet that no animal should carry.
A bundle. A box. A locket. A message that whisper… Continues…
By the time I understood what the locket really was,
it was already too late to pretend any of it was coincidence.
The symbols matched the tablet. The tablet matched the legend
. And the legend matched the one thing I’d always dismissed as campfire talk:
a hidden order using the forest as a living wall,
keeping The Veil intact, keeping something unspeakable just out of reach.
I wish I could say I walked away. Instead,
I started seeing the signs everywhere—carved faintly into old stones,
scratched into bark, woven into local history no one really questions.
The deer haven’t returned, but sometimes
I hear movement just beyond the tree line
like something checking in, making sure
I’m still following the path they opened.
I used to think the woods were quiet.
Now I know better. They’re watching,
waiting, and, for some reason,
they’re not finished with me yet.
