Free Dark Woods by Steve Voake

Ever.’
    ‘Someone might,’ said Eden.
    ‘No,’ said Cal, ‘they won’t. Which is why I don’t bother getting to know them any more. And it’s why I like being out here, away from all that stuff. It’s too complicated.’
    ‘What about me?’ said Eden.
    Cal was puzzled.
    ‘What about you?’
    ‘You’re getting to know me, aren’t you?’
    ‘That’s different.’
    ‘How is it different?’
    ‘Because you don’t expect anything of me, that’s why. You know that when all this is over, we’re going to go our separate ways.’
    ‘Like life, you mean.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘When it’s over, we go our separate ways.’
    Cal frowned.
    ‘Are you making fun of me?’
    ‘No. I’m saying that just because something’s going to end doesn’t mean it shouldn’t begin.’
    Cal shook his head.
    ‘You’ve lost me,’ he said.
    ‘I think maybe you’ve lost yourself,’ said Eden. ‘Maybe that’s why you like it out here where no one can see you.’
    ‘You can see me.’
    ‘I’m starting to. But there’s a ways to go yet.’
    Eden laid her head on her hands and closed her eyes.
    ‘I hope you get some sleep.’
    ‘Maybe we’ll find our way out of the woods tomorrow,’ said Cal.
    ‘Maybe we will.’
    When she was asleep, Cal lay on his back and stared at the ridge of branches above him. If he moved his head slightly, he could see the sky through a tiny gap. And in the middle of that vast darkness was a single star, its light scattered through time and space until the last shining remnants fell through the forest into the lens of his eye.
    He remembered watching a TV programme which said that the light from a star takes so long to reach the earth that by the time you see it, the star might no longer exist.
    He looked at Eden lying next to him with her eyes closed and thought how quiet it was when she was asleep.
    Just because something’s going to end, doesn’t mean it shouldn’t begin.
    He didn’t know what made her come up with stuff like that.
    But what he did know, lying there in the darkness and looking up at a solitary star, was that his heart ached and there wasn’t a thing in the world he could do about it.

Twenty-Two
    Cal awoke to a curious metallic sound; precise and surgical. He glanced at Eden, but she had turned away from him and the only noise she made was the soft ebb and flow of her breathing. Fingers of moonlight slid through the branches above his head.
    He heard the noise again.
    Anxious not to make a sound, Cal sat up until his head was almost touching the branches at the top of the shelter.
    Something was definitely out there.
    Cal shivered. If he woke Eden, the noise would almost certainly give them away. But if he moved quietly enough, maybe he could slip out without being seen and discover what was out there. Quite what he would do if he found out, he didn’t know, but at least he would know what he was dealing with.
    On his hands and knees now, Cal carefully removed the covering of branches at the entrance of the shelter and crawled outside. The temperature had dropped beneath a clear sky and the moon had risen above the trees, bathing the forest in a pale white light.
    The trees were stark and unfamiliar in the moonlight, formless shadows lurking beneath their branches. Careful to avoid stepping on any twigs which might betray his location, Cal moved soundlessly away from the shelter and positioned himself behind the trunk of a tree.
    Pressing his cheek against the rough bark, he listened.
    In the distance, he heard the rush and chatter of the stream.
    A mosquito whined in his ear.
    Then the sound again.
    Snip, snip, snip.
    It was fainter now, further away, mixing with the sound of the water.
    Realising he had been holding his breath, Cal allowed himself to breathe again, running his tongue over dry lips.
    He moved quickly to the cover of the next tree, then the next, listening each time for the clipped, metallic sound to start again. But he could no longer hear it. The