Farmer Finds Missing Horse After 8 Months—When He Gets Closer, A Chill Runs Down His Spine
The forest swallowed them. Shadows deepened, the trees towering like silent sentinels. Thunder’s hoofbeats were gone, replaced only by the occasional rustle of leaves.
George stumbled over a root, hitting the ground hard. Dirt filled his palms, the sting sharp and hot. For a moment he stayed there, gasping.
But he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not again.
With a groan, he forced himself upright. His legs trembled, his breath fogged in the colder air, but he pushed forward.
He would not go home without Thunder.
The night pressed in, every sound magnified—the crunch of his boots, the crack of distant twigs. Somewhere ahead, the trail was still warm.
As George pressed deeper into the forest, the trees seemed to stretch higher, their shadows swallowing what little light was left. Every direction looked the same—endless trunks, thick undergrowth, and an oppressive darkness that made it impossible to tell one path from another.
His stomach sank. The trail was gone, swallowed by the forest floor. Slowly, he turned in a circle, scanning for Thunder—or any landmark that might guide him home. Nothing. Just the silent, endless reach of trees.
Panic clawed at his chest, wrapping tighter with each breath. He told himself to stay calm, to think, but the only thought pounding in his head was how far from home he was now.
Thunder was gone again—along with the strange creature—and George stood alone in the middle of the night woods. A cold shiver worked its way down his spine. His clothes clung to him, damp and heavy. The air bit at his skin. He was lost.
“Thunder!” he called, his voice carrying into the trees. The forest answered with silence. Not even a whisper of leaves stirred.
