***It’s quiet in the valley. The rain dampens noise, silences leaves. Grey days make it harder to spot things stalking the land, no shadows to magnify movements. The fog creeps in and out, keeping it’s own time and rhythm.
But something is moving, shapes glimpsed in the fog, the snap of a just dry enough twig, the glint of metal in a spot of sun.
Something is stalking the town, living in the woods and outskirts. A collection of eyes watching the residents go about their lives. Moving with precision and the hint of malice.***