Chapter 115: _ Treehouses
The labyrinth coughs them out into something even darker and quieter. Heidi doesn’t know if it’s an open clearing or just another stretch of nightmare forest, because the trees rise so high and thick they blot out the sky. Nightfall seeps in like spilled ink, and before long, she can’t tell whether her eyes are open or shut. What she knows only, is that the air is colder, wetter, and smells like damp leaves and mud.
Her stomach gives an angry growl that echoes louder than she expects. A couple of the girls giggles, but the laugh is hollow and strained. Everyone’s bodies are running on fumes. Sweat stains the backs of shirts, shoes are caked in grime, and lips are cracked from thirst. Even Val has gone quieter than usual, dragging her sneakers like someone carrying bricks around her ankles.
Heidi doesn’t want to say the obvious: they’re hungry, thirsty, and lost. But Alpha Boy, who is always the first to volunteer for the role of Human Buzzkill, breaks the silence.
"We should start looking for houses, fruit, or animals. I mean, anything that can keep us alive until dawn."
Nobody argues because he’s right. The word houses hits Heidi’s ears like some magical spell. A house. Four walls. A roof. Maybe a chair. She could weep at the thought of a chair.
They push forward, stumbling more than walking. Everyone keeps their eyes peeled for fruit trees, but the forest seems intent on being cruel. Each branch they pass looks heavy with promise until they get close, only to find rotting leaves or unripe clusters that might as well be rocks. Every once in a while, someone whispers, Do you think this is edible? Only to back away in disgust when another girl pokes the fruit and it leaks some foul-smelling ooze.
Val mutters after the fourth disappointment, "This forest is shady. Literally. Shady and rude."
The mood should lighten with her sass, but it doesn’t. The word rude just hangs there, because yes—this whole nightmare is rude.
Time passes by. Their footsteps crunch through the undergrowth. Heidi starts counting her breaths to keep from panicking. Junie is pale but trudging, though Heidi notices her clutching her side every few minutes. She doesn’t say anything because Junie doesn’t need her pity right now. Junie needs dignity, and Heidi can give her at least that.
And then—like a mirage, the trees thin, and Heidi almost screams.
Up ahead, illuminated faintly by a moon that finally decides to peek through the clouds, is a cluster of structures. Wooden ladders curl upward into massive trunks, leading to platforms and shadowy huts perched high in the branches.
Treehouses!
A whole series of them, connected by rope bridges that sway in the breeze.
"Oh my God." Val breathes it out like a prayer. "Please tell me I’m not hallucinating."
The group slows, clustering together. Relief should flood them, but it doesn’t. Instead, panic and hesitation sizzle in the air. Because if there are treehouses, then someone—or something, lives in them. Someone might still be inside.
"What if they’re... not friendly?" a boy whispers. His voice shakes.
"Or worse," another mutters. "What if they’re empty because something ate whoever lived there?"
The whispers start to spiral into full-blown panic. Someone says they’re not going in. Another argues they have no choice. Heidi can see it unraveling, the thread of fear pulling tighter and tighter until the group rips apart completely.
She steps forward, raising her hands. Her heart pounds, but she knows if she doesn’t speak, no one will.
"Okay. Stop." Her voice cuts them short.
Dozens of anxious eyes land on her, and she swallows, forcing her tone steady. "Look, panicking is useless. We need shelter. We need water. Standing here freaking out isn’t going to magically deliver either."
A few girls exchange guilty looks. Heidi presses on.
"So here’s what we’re going to do. A few of us—preferably the ones still strong, or the ones who can shift, or the ones with awakened powers, we’ll go up first. We’ll check the houses, see if they’re safe. The rest of you stay here until we give the signal."
She lets her words hang, waiting. "Volunteers?"
For a moment, there’s silence. Then, without hesitation, Alpha Boy steps forward. His face is as fixed and stern as a stone.
"I’ll go."
No surprise there. Heidi almost rolls her eyes.
Then Val steps up, arms crossed but lips twitching with something that’s not quite a smirk. "Like hell you’re leaving me behind. You’d probably declare it safe and get eaten in the next second. Somebody’s gotta supervise."
That earns a nervous chuckle from the crowd. Slowly, more hands raise. Five more kids shuffle forward, and Heidi exhales. That makes eight of them total, herself included.
She turns to Junie, her chest tightening. "You’ll be okay while Val and I are away?"
Junie’s smile is faint but brave. "Yeah. I’ll manage. Just... don’t do anything dumb, okay?"
Heidi laughs under her breath, though it sounds too brittle. "No promises."
Val leans down and squeezes Junie’s shoulder. "We’ll bring you back a snack, girl. A very gourmet snack. Maybe a leaf. Maybe two leaves."
Junie actually chuckles, shaking her head. "Good luck, you idiots."
And with that blessing, Heidi swallows her nerves and leads their little scouting team toward the ladders.
The climb is harder than she expected. The rungs are slick, and her arms burn within seconds, but adrenaline keeps her going. The higher she climbs, the louder her heartbeat thuds in her ears. By the time she hauls herself onto the first platform, her legs are trembling.
The treehouse looms before them—wooden walls, a door hanging slightly ajar. The rope bridge creaks nearby, swaying like it’s daring them to step onto it. Everything is silent... too silent.
One by one, the others join her on the platform. Val lands beside her, whispering, "Okay, Scooby-Doo moment. Who wants to open the murder hut?"
"Shut up," Heidi hisses, though the absurdity makes her lips twitch.
One by one, they check the huts. The first treehouse is empty. What they find is just a sagging hammock and a wooden bowl turned upside down on the floor. The second is the same. Dust, leaves, spiderwebs, with no signs of life. By the time they’re halfway across the rope bridge to the third hut, some of the tension has bled out of their shoulders.
Val even whispers, "See? No monsters. Just us and bad carpentry."
"Don’t jinx it," Heidi mutters, though she feels her lungs unclench just a little.
They split up, three kids slipping inside the hut while the others linger on the platform. The boards creak under their weight, the sound magnified in the stillness of the night. Heidi is about to tell Val she’s going in next when...
"Wait."
The warning comes from one of the boys, his voice sharp as a snapped twig. He’s frozen at the railing, staring into the shadows below.
"What is it?" Heidi hisses, rushing to his side.
He points. And now she sees it too.
Something moves down there. It’s not a wind-in-the-branches movement. Not rabbit-or-squirrel movement either, but something heavier.
Her stomach drops.
"Shit," Val whispers. "Tell me I’m wrong, but that looks big."
More movement follows. Shapes, slinking between the trees. Too many to count. The kind of shapes that usually mean trouble.
The group tenses instantly. Powers spark faintly in trembling hands. An unintentional growl rumbles from the throat of one of the shifters.
Heidi’s pulse skyrockets. Not again. Fuck this! Not now!