And in the attic, Lottie would smile. Because the wilderness had been hungry.

“The stag.” Lottie pointed at Travis, still tied to the chair. “The wilderness chose him. He is the bridegroom.”

Shauna turned, her face a mask of animal confusion. “Jackie?”

And then the hunt began.

Shauna didn’t speak. She simply took her place by the fire, wrapped in the warmth of the pack.

It was only the beginning.

Inside, Shauna curled into a fetal position, her hand on her belly. “I’m going to be sick,” she whispered. But she didn’t move. None of them did.

Lottie rose from the fire, her eyes reflecting the flames like a predator’s. The mushroom tea had shattered her last barrier. She wasn’t Lottie anymore. She was the voice of the trees, the hunger of the soil.

Javi was the first to disappear. One moment he was there, watching the girls dance; the next, the forest had swallowed him. Travis screamed his name, struggling against the ropes. Coach Ben, the only sober one, hobbled after Javi on his single leg, his flashlight cutting futile paths into the dark.

They cornered him at the edge of a ravine. Travis fell, scraping his knees, looking up at a circle of smiling, tear-streaked faces. Lottie placed a crown of twisted branches on his head.

But before the knife could descend, Jackie stumbled into the clearing.