We continued the hike. The trail had turned even more uphill, the sun scorching us relentlessly as we trekked. With little food and water remaining, our physical and mental acuity deteriorated. We distracted ourselves from our sorry state by forming a plan.
The plan was simple; two of us would hike ahead of the other, and meet Rowan at the campsite, where he’d be cooking like usual. The two would distract Rowan with trivial conversation. Meanwhile, the third person would sneak around the side of the camp, and when his guard was down, stab Rowan in the throat with Grant’s knife. There was only one thing to figure out: who the third person would be, as they would put themself at risk by being the last to camp.
“I think it makes the most sense for me to be that person,” Jamie said.
“Are you sure, Jamie?” I asked.
“Rowan knows that you two left before me, so he’d be less suspicious if you arrived first,” Jamie explained. “And also, I suggested killing Rowan in the first place, so it makes sense for me to take the high-risk role.”
My stomach twisted itself into knots as the day trudged on. Rowan’s face imprinted itself into my brain, his hollow green eyes and wooden smile tormenting me. What if it doesn’t work? I thought. What would he do to us? Would we suffer a fate worse than the others?
But as I thought back to the others–Trevor, Spencer, and now Tasha–an inner rage boiled within me. It was enough to keep me going, to keep me hiking on the fumes of stale trail mix and warm, metallic-tasting water. The possibility that Rowan wasn’t involved in their disappearances entered my mind, but his attitude from the previous day told me culpability was highly probable. At the very least, he was clearly indifferent about us dying. That provided me with the justification to see through our plan.
The day wore on; the sun crested, then lowered in the sky, and before long we saw the smoke trail of a campfire ahead of us.
“There it is,” Grant said.
I heard Jamie take a deep breath next to me. “Let’s do it,” she said, undeterred.
Grant and I marched up, my legs threatening to collapse from anxiety. Rowan was at the fire, as expected, cooking something that smelled like fish. “Welcome!” he called to us. “Only two more days after today, isn’t that exciting?”
“I can’t believe it’s almost done already,” I said with an unconvincing smile.
“You should see some of the pictures we got today,” Grant said, standing close to Rowan. He pulled out his plastic bag of photos. “There are woven trees everywhere, it was hard not to stop and take a picture of every single one!”
While Grant showed Rowan through the many photos he’d taken, I began setting up my tent close to the fire, making sure to create plenty of noise as I did. My eyes darted between the surrounding trees as I set up, looking for signs of Jamie’s presence. Nothing yet.
The minutes marched on slower than they ever had. By that point I was repeatedly disconnecting and reconnecting the tent poles, occasionally muttering obscenities in fake frustration. I could hear Grant continuing to show photos, Rowan’s voice becoming increasingly more agitated.
“Also, while we were having lunch, there was this tree that vaguely looked like the Mona Lisa,” Grant said. “See? You can sort of make out the face and smile.”
“That looks the same as the other twenty photos you’ve shown me.”
“You mean you don’t see it?” Grant sounded disappointed. Whether it was real or fake disappointment, I couldn’t tell.
I heard the soft, almost inaudible sound of someone running.
“Grant, respectfully, I think I’ve seen enou-”
I looked up. Jamie standing behind Rowan, her arm wrapped around his neck with the knife pointed directly at his throat.
Jamie strained from effort, and I realized what was happening: the knife wasn’t going in. Jamie wound her arm again and tried stabbing again, but the knife only bounced off Rowan’s neck with a hollow thunk. Rowan stood there, a smile creeping across his face.
“Go on, try it again.”
Jamie tried cutting with the knife’s edge this time, and the same thing happened: The knife simply slid off, like his skin was made of stone. Jamie tried again and again, across his face, in his back, each time becoming more and more frantic, tears forming in her eyes. The knife did no damage. Rowan only stood there, a look of bliss plastered across his face, as if receiving a massage.
“Hard to cut wood with a knife made for flesh.”
Jamie crumpled to the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks. Rowan began to roar with laughter.
“Do you seriously think that of the thousands I’ve devoured, none thought to try that?”
Grant and I could only watch, frozen, as Rowan flicked his wrist, and Jamie stopped moving. Her skin was now a furrowed sandy gray, her facial features plastered with tree bark. Rowan had turned Jamie into wood.
“No point waiting on that one,” he said with simple annoyance. He looked at Grant and I. “Good luck on tomorrow’s hike.” And then he was gone.
Tears begged to spill, but I no longer had the energy to cry. Grant said something, but I no longer had the energy to hear. I fell on my knees, drawing blood as a result, but I no longer had the energy to feel. I could do nothing but watch as my best friend’s body turned into dust and was absorbed by the ground.
How? How could this happen? What cursed object did we possess? What dark ritual had we done? What divine force had we slighted? How could the universe, God, Zeus, anything, decide that this is the fate we deserved? That I deserved to watch as we were murdered one by one, knowing I will suffer the same fate? That we deserved to be torn apart in the same place we’d met: on the hiking trail?
I do not know how long I sat there. The waves of tragedies had broken any lingering sense of time. But the next thing I remember is reaching into my pocket and feeling Jamie’s one remaining possession: the lighter she’d given me on the first day. I pulled it out, the bright red color of its tube contrasting against my dirty, bruised hand. It was then that I noticed something else: the bracelet.
The bracelet was still in the same spot it’d been since the first day. Somehow, I had forgotten about it entirely, not even bothering to take it off at night. But as I pulled on the bracelet I noticed that removing it was no longer a possibility; the woven sticks seemed to have wrapped tighter around my wrist, enough that my hand no longer fit through. As I thought back to that first day, the day Rowan gave us the bracelets, I realized that had been the first step in our murders. How he turns us into wood.
An idea surfaced. But it would be risky. Then again, risk was all I had left to bet on, right?
I heard Grant walk up behind me. “Ash, I need to tell you something.”
“Hm?”
“I’m going to stay behind,” he said. “You deserve an extra day more than me.”
“What’s an extra day worth if I can’t spend it with you?”
I couldn’t see his face but I knew he was smiling. “I thought about what you said, and… you were right. I played the game Rowan wanted us to play.” Grant sat in the dirt next to me.
“You did what you thought was best for us,” I said.
“At the expense of Jamie,” he said. He covered his face with his hands. “Fuck, they’re actually all gone, aren’t they?”
“Maybe they’re all alive somewhere,” I said, but I didn’t believe it.
Neither did Grant. “You remember how I was the one to find this trail, right?”
“Frankly anything before the hike is a distant memory to me now.”
“We really took everything for granted,” Grant said. “I know that I might not have done a great job expressing it… but the guilt completely wrecked me. I hoped that I could at least save you.” Tears started to form in his eyes.
“You didn’t know,” I whispered, putting my arm around his shoulder.
“But maybe you’ll survive,” Grant said, his voice breaking through his tears. “Maybe he lets the last person live.”
That was wishful thinking to me, but I didn’t say it.
“So I want that to be you. Rowan doesn’t deserve the validation of me being the last one.”
We sat in silence for a long time. The world was completely still. The sun began to set, staining the sky with vibrant pinks and oranges. A calming aura filled the landscape. Even in the land of the woven trees, the sunsets are still beautiful.
“I’m sorry for calling you a greedy excuse of a boyfriend,” I finally said.
Grant rested his head on my shoulder.
“But I’m also not gonna let you die,” I continued. “I don’t know if… well, I doubt it will work, but I have an idea that might keep us alive.”
Grant perked. “What’s the idea?”
“You need to go ahead of me tomorrow,” I said. I held out my wrist. “I think our bracelets are the key to breaking free.”
Rowan wasn’t there the next morning. Perhaps the attempted murder made him uneasy, or he wished to see us suffer from deprivation. Or both. But it certainly made the day’s hike even more difficult. We had no water or calorie sources after last night’s dinner. The uphill hike was relentless, and we frequently stopped to avoid passing out. But despite our parched tongues and pounding headaches, we pressed on.
I questioned the timing of my plan. I hoped that attempting it at the campsite, where I’d be “marked for death”, would break the methodological killing system that Rowan had. Of course, there was the possibility that once I was the last, there’s no stopping my death. But I knew I’d have one chance no matter when I did it; it was just picking the most impactful time.
When we reached the next campsite it was basically dark. It didn’t even look like a campsite; it was just a flat plot of dirt, similar to all the ones before it, but with no campfire or Rowan in sight. Nonetheless, as soon as Grant stepped foot onto the plot, a wave of nausea swept over my body, and I knew the clock was ticking. I followed him.
“Okay, do your plan,” Grant said. He turned on his flashlight. “It’s already night so we have to hurry.”
“Do you still have the knife?” I asked.
Grant handed me the same knife that Jamie had used. I brought the knife to my wrist and began sawing at the bracelet, hoping the blade would cut through the twigs.
It didn’t.
I kept trying to cut through in multiple ways, from multiple different angles, but the knife didn’t even make an incision. “Hard to cut wood with a knife made for flesh.” I remembered Rowan saying.
“Is it working?” Grant asked.
“No,” I said, desperation creeping in. My headache and nausea seemed to intensify. I tried to force my hand through the bracelet again, but it wouldn’t come off; my thumb bone caught on it.
“Ash…” Grant said, pacing up and down.
“Do you still have the container you used for the lighter fluid?”
Grant nodded, taking off his backpack. He handed me a luckily heavy metal bottle. I braced myself for what came next.
Placing my left hand, the hand with the bracelet, on the ground, I held the bottle in my right hand. Every instinct in my body fought against me, but I knew what I had to do. I closed my eyes, wound my right arm, and swung to the ground. There was a hollow clunk as it struck my hand, then an explosion of pain.
“What’re you doing!?” Grant cried.
My thumb bone screamed, but it wasn’t enough. The nausea was starting to overwhelm me, but I pushed past it. Biting my shirt, I wound up the bottle again, and swung down.
I heard a sickening crack, and my vision turned red. My thumb was bent at an unnatural angle. Every nerve in my hand reprimanded me for my decision. But as I pulled on the woven bracelet, it slipped past the shattered bone and off my fingers, hitting the dirt with a soft plat. Even though the hand pain remained, as soon as the bracelet fell off, my headache and nausea disappeared like a potent painkiller. For the first time in five days, I felt free.
I looked over at Grant, who was staring at my hand and the bracelet with his mouth agape. I was about to speak when I saw a shadow moving behind him.
“Across one hundred and fifty years, I don’t think anyone’s tried that,” came a voice. Rowan’s voice. Grant turned around, and with his flashlight we could see Rowan standing there. But he looked… different, somehow.
“I have to say, the extent you’re willing to go is admirable,” Rowan continued, starting to walk towards us. “But unfortunately the bracelet is not the only weapon I possess.” As he came, I heard the sound of sticks cracking and snapping, and then I realized what was happening: he’s getting bigger. With each step Rowan grew in size, vines crawling down his leg and extending its length, his arms expanding to inhuman levels. His clothes were quickly pulled apart, and that’s when Rowan’s final form became visible. He stood twice our height, his body woven with wrapped vines from head to toe, like the trees that have surrounded us for so long. What was once a human face had become a carved, wooden slate with hollow eye sockets and no mouth. Rowan’s right arm had grown a handle with a flat, wooden blade attached to the end; a hatchet.
Grant fell to the ground in terror. Rowan looked at him. “You have nothing to fear,” he told Grant, his voice deeper and more hollow than before. “You made it first. Ashley didn’t.”
Then he looked back at me and began to charge, his right arm winding up to strike.
I scrambled into a run as fast as my legs allowed; there was a whoosh, followed by a sharp burst of pain across my back. Rowan’s hatchet had grazed me; if I were a second slower it would’ve sliced my spine.
I barreled into the darkening forest, my left hand hanging limply by my side, my right arm still carrying the lighter fluid. Blood soaked the back of my shirt, but adrenaline overrode any pain I might’ve felt. I ran as fast as I could in spite of the five days of hiking, the shadowy forms of woven trees streaking past my vision. Gradually, the creaking sound of Rowan chasing me began to fade, but I did not stop. I continued sprinting downhill, taking extra care not to slip and tumble down.
Something burst out of a woven tree to my left. Instinctively, I ducked, and I felt the wind of Rowan’s hatchet fly inches over my head. I fell to the ground and watched in horror as Rowan emerged from the trunk of the tree, the intertwined logs parting like curtains welcoming a king. Seeing me in my vulnerable state, Rowan laughed.
“Do you not understand that you are facing a god in his domain?”
He wound his arm again. I mustered all my remaining energy to propel my body. The hatchet cracked against the ground where I’d just been. The momentum carried me into a tumble down the endless slope, my left hand exploding in pain as my body weight laid on it. As I rolled I saw Rowan standing, watching, and even though he had no mouth I could tell he was smiling.
I eventually came to a stop against a tree, where I quickly got up in fear of Rowan emerging again. Through the haze of my pain, I saw something lying on the ground: the lighter fluid I’d been holding, which had slid down the hill alongside me. I reached into my pocket, felt Jamie’s lighter which had somehow stayed in, and a plan began to form.
I grabbed the lighter fluid bottle with my good hand, and unscrewed the cap with my teeth. Running around the trunk, I poured lighter fluid all over the wood, making sure to cover as much surface area as possible. Once I had emptied the container, I stood by the tree waiting, tightly gripping Jamie’s lighter.
Minutes passed. My heart was pounding, almost painfully so. By now it was almost completely dark, so I listened closely for the sound of shifting wood. Blood dripped to the ground from my back. Part of me began to wonder if Rowan had given up chase, maybe deciding to go for Grant instead.
There was movement in the corner of my eye. I moved back, but it wasn’t fast enough. The blade struck directly across my chest, the sheer force causing ribs to snap like twigs. Blood sprayed everywhere, including on myself. My vision blurred. I collapsed to the ground from sheer shock.
In the haze of pain, I heard the sound of Rowan emerging from the tree: the scraping of thousands of sticks rubbing together. I heard him walk up to me and say something. And then, a creaking sound as he wound his hatchet.
With all my remaining strength, I raised my right arm, which was still clutching the lighter. I felt my hand touch the fluid soaked trunk of the tree. And then I switched on the lighter.
I felt heat as the trunk burst into flame. Orange light flooded my vision. And then I heard a sound. It took me some time to realize after, but I think it was the sound of Rowan screaming.
Despite the pain, I managed to lift my head. I saw Rowan’s figure dancing in front of me, fire engulfing his entire body. He was trying to put the flames out. It was futile. Eventually, the flames died down, having consumed all of their fuel, and Rowan fell to the ground as a charred husk. Black soot fell on my body.
And then the forest burst into flames.
It was the biggest fire show that I, or maybe anyone, has ever seen. One by one, cones of flame exploded up the woven trees, hungrily consuming the gray wood. The fires climbed hundreds of feet like pillars from hell. Sweat collected on my forehead from the heat. The acrid smell of burning was sharp, the sound of roaring flames was deafening, and the sheer amount of light was overwhelming. But as I watched the spectacle unfurl, lying on the ground with cold, blood-soaked dirt beneath me, it was… beautiful. The thousands of fire pillars burning in sync, glorious like the death of a god should be.
And then the fire was gone.
Cold air swept over me. I still laid on the ground, staring up at darkness. I brought my hand to my stomach and felt blood flowing from the wound. I tried to sit up but exhaustion tied me to the earth. I wondered if I would die like this, having defeated Rowan yet doomed to be his final victim.
But as I lay there, taking deep, painful breaths, I noticed something. Crickets. They sang a chorus I didn’t know I missed, yet as I listened I felt peace.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and the night sky came into focus. And as I gazed upon the heavens, littered with thousands of twinkling stars, I realized I made it. I made it out of the forest. Consciousness began to slip away, yet I smiled, embracing my fate.
Someone ran over. Grant.
“Oh my god, we need to get you to a hospital!” he said when he saw me. He pulled out his phone.
“The others?” I mustered despite the pain of my broken ribs.
“I… I don’t know. I couldn’t find them,” he said, putting the phone to his ear. “We can report them missing, maybe they’ll be found.”
But something told me they were gone. And as I bathed in the starlight, I realized what it was. Maybe the blood loss was playing tricks on my mind, but beyond the night sky, I felt thousands of souls escape to a final slumber. My friends included.
And, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I cried.