Blogtober 2025, Day 3: Amulet

 Lucy's Path: Chapter Three

The path closed around them like a throat. Their flashlights cut thin beams through the brush, glinting off damp leaves and spider silk. No one spoke for the first hundred steps; even Mark’s swagger seemed to falter.

Emily stopped, squinting at something half-buried in the dirt. She crouched, brushing away pine needles until her hand closed on a small object—round, cold, etched with uneven lines. She lifted it into the light.

“It’s like an amulet,” she whispered. The carving was crude: a circle of teeth, an eye scratched at its center.

“Don’t touch that!” Sarah hissed, but Emily was already holding it up, her hand to the trees.

Mark forced a laugh. “It’s probably just junk. Some kid messing around.” Still, he didn’t look too closely at it.

Tyler shifted uneasily, glancing behind them. “Feels like the woods got quieter.”

It was true. The crickets had gone still, the wind muted. Only the sound of Emily’s quick and shallow breathing filled the space between them.

“Let’s keep moving,” Mark said, pushing ahead. But the others noticed how tightly his hand gripped the flashlight, as if afraid it would be the next thing to vanish.