George strained his eyes to see into the deepening shadows. He blinked once, twice, convinced that his mind must be playing tricks on him. “It’s nothing”, he told himself. “It has to be nothing.” But those eyes—glinting and steady—never wavered.
The cold evening air clung to George’s skin, a sharp reminder that this was no dream. His breath quickened as he slowly stood, backing away from the barn’s entrance. His gut churned with the conflicting emotions battling inside him—joy at Thunder’s return, but also a gnawing fear of what was hidden in the shadows.