Chapter 4: The Secret’s Edge

4

Three days passed, but the memory stuck. Every night I put off sleep, afraid I’d dream about that cave and the humanoid.

I scrolled my phone for hours, TV blaring, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw firelight and that shadow at the entrance.

One night, I saw Rachel had updated her writing blog. She’d posted the humanoid story.

Her posts always got tons of comments from horror fans. Tonight, I clicked in before anyone else could spoil it.

"Did she finally reveal the humanoid’s flaw?" I wondered, pulling the covers up to my chin.

Here’s what she wrote:

When another tribe found the clever hunter, he was already lost—mud-caked, wounded, wild-eyed.

The tribe gathered around, whispering. His hair was tangled, eyes darting, words tumbling out in a frantic rush.

They didn’t know madness. To them, he was possessed. They tied him up, circled around, and prayed.

Their eyes flickered with fear and pity. Maybe, if they begged hard enough, the spirits would leave him.

"It’s already here. It’s among us!"

He screamed it over and over. His voice cut through the clearing, making everyone shudder.

That only made them edge back, muttering prayers, covering their kids’ ears.

"I’ll tell you its secret."

The crowd hushed. Someone gasped.

The tribe leader stood and walked over. He was big, scar on his cheek—a survivor, not easily rattled.

"Who is it? What secret do you have?"

The hunter twisted, wrists bleeding, desperate to be heard.

"Someone came to our tribe. No, not someone. It looks like us, but…"

He panted, wild-eyed.

Before he could finish, the leader leaned in, face-to-face.

Their foreheads almost touched. The leader’s eyes bored into his—searching for sense, or madness.

"Look at me. Think carefully—how would you describe it?"

His voice was soft, but dangerous. Say the wrong thing, who knows what happens next.

"You…" The hunter’s pupils shook. His heart stopped.

Something in the leader’s eyes made his blood run cold. Did he see the flaw—or something worse?

Back then, death was common. No one knew what happened. They dumped the hunter’s body in the woods, no ceremony.

It was over fast. Life moved on.

Maybe the leader was the humanoid. Maybe not. With the hunter gone, the secret died, too.

A million years ago, the world teemed with animals. One night, a mountain lion tracked prey into a cave.

The moon hung low. The lion crept through wet brush, muscles rippling under its fur, sniffing the air.

It was the same cave where the humanoid had stayed.

The big cat padded inside, nose twitching, searching for traces of blood and meat.

It circled, tail flicking, ears pricked for danger. The air was heavy with the smell of wet fur and old stone, but no human scent.

Bones and tools littered the cave floor. The lion hesitated, uneasy.

Animals know where humans have been—they can smell it. But this lion found no trace: no sweat, no fear, no smoke. Just the tang of blood and stone.

The lion’s mind worked: Something’s off. Where are the humans?

There should be humans here, but nothing fits. No scent, no sign.

It hesitated, ears flat, unsettled.

The lion prowled closer, ready to claim the kill. As it crouched—

A human face stretched from the shadows.

"Looking for me?"

The voice was soft, almost taunting. The lion froze, hackles up, heart pounding.