Blackwater Forest wasn't famous for animals.
It was famous for people disappearing politely.
No blood.
No torn clothes.
No struggle.
Just absence, like someone erased them mid-step.
Maya first heard about it in a newspaper corner article:
THIRD HIKER MISSING IN BLACKWATER ZONE
She folded the paper slowly.
"Either a serial killer," she said, "or nature finally learned revenge."
Rohan adjusted his camera.
"Or a monster. Please be a monster. Serial killers are boring."
Aditi swallowed.
"Why did I sign up for this?"
They reached Blackwater by evening.
The trees grew wrong.
Not tall —
Watching.
Their bark twisted like muscles under skin. Leaves whispered even when the air stayed still.
Sameer, the local guide, stopped them near the camp area.
"After sunset," he said quietly, "don't answer voices."
Rohan smiled nervously.
"Even if they sound like my mom?"
Sameer didn't smile back.
At night, the forest changed temperature.
Not colder.
Hungrier.
Maya wrote notes by lantern light when she heard it.
A scream.
But not human.
No breath between sound.
Like something learned how screaming worked without lungs.
Aditi dropped her cup.
"Did… did you hear that?"
The scream came again — closer.
Then silence so thick it rang in their ears.
From the trees, something shifted.
Not walking.
Unfolding.