“Thunder!” he called, his voice echoing through the trees. Silence answered. Not even the rustle of leaves responded to his shout. George’s pulse quickened as the forest seemed to close in around him. Was it his imagination, or were the trees getting closer, crowding in on him?
He walked a few more steps, calling Thunder’s name again, but his voice was starting to crack with frustration. The shadows loomed, stretching longer with each passing minute. The night seemed to deepen, and the only light came from the pale sliver of moon trying to peek through the thick canopy of branches above.