THE YELLOWJACKETS | YELLOWJACKETS

The bundle of firewood dug into your forearms with every step.

You'd wandered farther than you'd meant to. At first it hadn't mattered. The trees all looked familiar enough. Moss-covered trunks. Tangled roots. The distant chatter of your friends somewhere behind you.

Until there wasn't any chatter anymore.

You stopped.

"...Guys?"

Only the wind answered.

It carried the scent of damp earth and pine needles, heavy enough to taste. Somewhere overhead, branches creaked together like old bones. You turned in a slow circle, trying to remember which direction camp had been.

Everything looked identical.

A nervous laugh escaped you.

"Very funny."

Nothing.

Your heartbeat became the loudest thing in the forest.

You tried retracing your steps, but every path ended in another cluster of trees. Every fallen log looked like the last one. The daylight had begun to soften into that dangerous gray where shadows stopped making sense.

Then you smelled smoke.

Not wildfire.

A campfire.

Relief hit so suddenly it almost made you dizzy.

Someone else was here.

You hurried toward it, ducking beneath low branches, boots slipping on wet leaves. The smoke grew stronger. Then came voices. Women's voices.

You pushed through one final wall of brush.

The clearing wasn't what you expected.

A fire burned at its center, bright enough to paint everything in amber and gold.

Several women stood around it.

Adults.

Their clothes looked stitched together from mismatched fabrics. Antlers rested against a nearby stump. Strange symbols had been carved into the surrounding trees. Hanging from one branch was a deck of worn playing cards tied together with red cord.

One of the women held a single card.

Everyone else was watching her.

No one spoke.

The silence felt deliberate.

Sacred.

You should have backed away.

Instead your foot snapped a twig.

Every head turned.

For one impossible second, nobody moved.

The woman holding the card lowered it.

Another tilted her head.

You managed one weak smile.

"I... I'm sorry. I got lost."

No answer.

The air itself seemed to tighten.

Instinct screamed.

Run.

You turned.

You barely made three steps.

Hands caught your arms.

Another clamped over your mouth before you could scream.

The bundle of firewood scattered across the forest floor with a crash.

You kicked, twisted, bit down against someone's palm. A voice, calm and almost gentle, murmured near your ear.

"It's alright."

It absolutely wasn't.

The trees blurred together as they dragged you away.

---

The first thing you noticed when you woke was warmth.

Not comfortable warmth.

Contained warmth.

A fireplace crackled somewhere nearby.

The room smelled faintly of cedar, dried herbs and old books. Sunlight spilled through tall windows onto polished wooden floors. A folded blanket rested neatly over you.

You sat upright too quickly.

The door was closed.

Locked.

Panic crashed over you in waves.

You threw yourself against it.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Your fists stung.

"Hello?!"

No answer.

Hours blurred together.

Eventually the door opened.

A woman stepped inside carrying a tray.

Soup.

Bread.

Tea.

She set it on the table with practiced care.

"You should eat."

"You kidnapped me."

"I know."

Her voice held no anger.

No defensiveness.

Only certainty.

"You'll get sick if you don't."

"I have friends looking for me."

"They're gone."

Your stomach dropped.

"What does that mean?"

She simply looked at you for a long moment.

"We'll talk when you're ready."

Then she left.

The lock clicked again.

---

Days became difficult to count.

Nobody shouted.

Nobody hit you.

Nobody even threatened you.

That somehow made everything worse.

Every request to leave was met with quiet refusals.

Every question about your friends dissolved into careful redirections.

"You need rest."

"You've been through something frightening."

"You're safe here."

Safe.

You hated that word.

You stopped eating out of spite.

Someone always noticed.

Someone always brought fresh food.

You refused conversation.

Someone still came every morning just to ask how you'd slept.

The routine became impossible to ignore.

Breakfast.

Silence.

Walking the garden under supervision.

Reading.

Dinner.

Sleep.

The place called itself a wellness community.

It felt more like a beautifully decorated cage.

Still...

People learned routines frighteningly fast.

The locked door stopped making your pulse race every time you saw it.

The familiar faces became easier to distinguish.

You learned who hummed while cooking.

Who watered the flowers before sunrise.

Who smiled with only half their mouth.

Who always remembered exactly how you took your tea.

You hated yourself the first time that detail comforted you.

You learned their names and faces.

Van.

Lottie.

Natalie.

Shauna.

Jackie.

Taissa.

Van.

Misty.

---

Weeks later, someone accidentally left the library door open.

No one stood outside.

No footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Your pulse thundered.

This was it.

You hurried outside.

Cold air hit your face.

Freedom.

The woods stretched endlessly beyond the property.

You ran.

Branches whipped against your arms.

Leaves crunched beneath your boots.

Faster.

Farther.

Until...

Nothing looked familiar.

Again.

The same endless forest.

The same towering trees.

The same silence.

Your breathing became ragged.

You turned left.

Then right.

Nothing.

The panic returned exactly as it had the first night.

Hours later, exhausted and shaking, you stumbled back toward the only place you could find.

The lights of the compound glowed softly through the trees.

Someone was waiting on the porch. Lottie.

She didn't look angry.

She only looked relieved.

"I knew you'd come back."

You wanted to tell her she'd been wrong.

That this wasn't coming back.

This was surviving.

But when she wrapped a blanket around your shoulders against the evening cold...

You didn't pull away.

And that frightened you more than anything else.

The forest had a way of swallowing sound.

Not all at once. Patiently.

Your father's voice had started as a shout somewhere behind you.

Then a muffled call.

Then nothing.

You stood frozen between towering pines, every breath turning sharp in your lungs. The afternoon had slipped into evening without permission, the sunlight bleeding through branches in dull strips of gold that never seemed to touch the ground.

"Dad?"

Only the wind answered.

The silence felt wrong.

It wasn't empty. It listened.

You took another step, boots sinking into damp moss. Wet earth released the smell of pine needles and rotting leaves with every footfall. Somewhere overhead, a crow barked once before taking flight.

"Dad!"

Your own voice startled you.

You tried to remember the trail. There had been a stream. Or maybe a fallen log. You'd laughed when your father joked about getting turned around.

"As long as we're together, we'll figure it out."

The memory made your chest tighten.

You weren't together anymore.

Hours blurred together. Every direction looked identical. Hunger crept in first, followed by cold. Your jacket wasn't enough once the sun disappeared behind the mountains.

You curled against the base of a tree, hugging your knees.

Maybe he'd find you.

Maybe you'd find him.

Maybe—

A twig snapped.

Your head jerked up.

Someone stood between the trees.

A young woman, bow slung across her shoulder, stared at you with narrowed eyes. Dirt streaked across her face. Her clothes looked patched together from whatever scraps she'd managed to keep alive.

She looked almost as startled as you.

"...Who are you?"

Your throat was too dry to answer.

The stranger glanced over her shoulder before stepping closer.

"Are you alone?"

You nodded.

She studied you for a long moment.

Not with pity.

Calculation.

Like she was solving a problem.

"I'm Natalie."

The name sounded strangely ordinary compared to the way she looked, as though she'd walked out of another life entirely.

"I'm going to ask you something." Her voice stayed calm. "Is anyone looking for you?"

"My dad."

"Besides him."

"I... I don't know."

She sighed quietly.

"You shouldn't be out here."

"I know."

"You really don't."

Something shifted behind her expression.

Not kindness.

Recognition.

She'd seen this kind of fear before.

For a heartbeat, you thought she might help you find your father.

Instead, she stepped forward.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

The world lurched.

Something heavy struck the side of your head.

Not hard enough to seriously injure you.

Just enough.

Your knees buckled.

The last thing you remembered was Natalie catching you before you hit the ground.

...

The first thing you noticed was smoke.

Wood smoke.

It clung to everything.

Your clothes.

Your hair.

The rough blankets beneath you.

When you forced your eyes open, unfamiliar faces stared back.

Some openly curious, like Van, Lottie, Jackie, and Misty.

Others suspicious, like Taissa and Lottie.

Shauna looked annoyed you'd woken up.

"She's awake."

The words sent a ripple through the group.

Someone handed Natalie a cup.

She crouched beside you.

"You scared us."

"You kidnapped me."

A beat of silence.

"...Yeah."

No denial.

No excuse.

Just the truth.

Panic flooded your chest.

You scrambled backward until your shoulders collided with rough branches lashed together into the wall of a crude shelter. Outside, you caught glimpses of more structures made from sticks, logs, and stretched fabric. Smoke drifted through the trees. People moved with practiced familiarity, carrying water, chopping wood, tending fires.

They looked less like campers...

...and more like people who'd forgotten another world existed.

"I have to go."

"No."

"My dad is looking for me."

Natalie's expression tightened.

"If he's out there, wandering after dark..."

She didn't finish.

You hated that she didn't have to.

"He'll find me."

"I hope so."

"Then let me leave."

"I can't."

Your breathing sped up.

"You don't understand."

"No." Natalie rubbed tiredly at her eyes. "You don't."

Lottie stepped into the shelter.

"You can't let her leave."

"I know."

"She'll tell people."

"I know."

Your stomach twisted.

"You aren't actually keeping me here."

No one answered.

That silence told you everything.

...

The first days became measured by failed escape attempts.

You tried slipping away before sunrise.

Taissa noticed.

You waited until everyone slept.

Lottie was awake.

You even ran.

You made it less than half a mile before Natalie found you, breathing hard but somehow unsurprised.

"You'll die out here."

"I'd rather die than stay."

"You don't mean that."

"I do."

She looked at you for a long time before quietly saying,

"You will eventually stop."

"I won't."

"You will."

You hated how certain she sounded.

...

Days became weeks.

The fear never disappeared.

It simply made room for other things.

Warm soup pressed into your hands after gathering firewood.

A spare blanket left beside you without anyone claiming credit.

Van laughing when you nearly fell carrying water.

Arguments around the fire.

Stories.

Inside jokes you didn't understand until you eventually did.

You caught yourself laughing once.

The sound horrified you.

You stopped immediately.

That night, guilt kept you awake longer than the cold.

"Dad's still out there."

"If he's alive..."

"Why are you smiling?"

The thoughts refused to leave.

But so did the people around you.

They became impossible to reduce to "the ones who kidnapped me."

Natalie was the one who quietly traded you the larger portion whenever food was scarce.

Misty taught you how to identify edible plants.

Taissa complained constantly but fixed the hole in your boots anyway.

It was confusing.

Cruel people weren't supposed to do kind things.

Kind people weren't supposed to trap you.

The contradiction dug into your thoughts until every certainty began to blur around the edges.

One evening, Natalie sat beside you without speaking.

The fire crackled between you.

"I know you hate me."

You stared into the flames.

"I did what I thought would keep everyone alive."

Including you.

She didn't say those last two words.

She didn't need to.

You still couldn't forgive her.

Maybe you never would.

But for the first time...

...you understood why she'd made the choice.

That frightened you far more than the forest ever had.