The Kansas summer heat was intense at the Voss farmstead.
Twelve-year-old Elias knelt in the barn's shadow, focused on carving a devil's trap into a worn plank of wood. His pocketknife made steady, careful marks; scratch, curve and smooth, each line deliberate. He had learned this skill from Mara, who always took her time with him.
Sweat dripped down his neck, but he did not flinch. He worked until the trap's edges were clean and even, a quiet satisfaction building within him.
Outside, Daniel's truck rumbled down the driveway, kicking up dust. The engine stopped, and the door creaked as his father stepped out, a shotgun slung over one shoulder. Though tired, his voice was warm when he said, "Still working on that trap, huh?"
Elias lifted the plank and nodded. "I finished it. I tested it with salt, and it works."
Daniel squinted at the trap and then gave a small nod. "Solid work. You're getting good, kid." He placed his hand on Elias's shoulder before his gaze drifted past the barn to scan the fields. "The air feels off today. It is too still."
Inside, Mara sat at the kitchen table, quickly packing shotgun shells with rock salt. When they entered, she looked up and said, "You're a mess." She smiled as she searched his face, as if expecting more than just dirt.
Elias shrugged. "Yeah, it's hot."
"Wash up. Stew's on," she said.
At the sink, he scrubbed his hands, feeling the sting of small scrapes he had not noticed before.
Mara's tone softened. "Are you okay?"
Elias nodded quickly. "Yeah. Just hot."
Dinner passed in silence while cicadas buzzed outside. Afterward, Daniel set his journal beside his plate and opened it with one hand.
"I got word from a hunter in Topeka," he said, his tone casual but clipped. "Trouble is stirring out west. Cattle are being torn up and strange markings are appearing." He glanced at Mara and continued, "Closer than last year."
Mara's spoon froze halfway to her mouth. "How close?"
Daniel shrugged and his jaw tightened. "Close enough. I found something by the creek today."
Mara set her spoon down, her eyes narrowing. "And?"
He exhaled slowly. "It smelled like ash."
Elias grew quiet. He had smelled it too; faint and carried on the wind, but had not mentioned it.
Later on the porch, Daniel handed Elias a sawed-off shotgun. "It's time you learned how to use this properly," he said, cracking it open to show the salt rounds. "Keep the spread even. Good for close calls."
Elias took the gun carefully, feeling its weight. He raised it, aimed at a hay bale, and pulled the trigger. The blast broke the stillness as salt hit the target.
"Nice shot," Daniel grunted. "Keep it close tonight."
Elias nodded steadily.
Soon after, Mara stepped outside, a rifle in her grip. She scanned the fields in the fading light. "The wind has changed," she muttered. "It smells like something is burning."
Elias caught the scent too; sharp and faint in the heavy summer air.
Daniel said nothing, but Elias saw his father's stance change as his gaze narrowed toward the tree line.
Mara moved quickly along the edge of the porch, drawing a fresh salt line. Her hands worked with precision. "It feels like something is watching us," she said.
Daniel finally broke his silence. "I've felt it too. We must be prepared."
On the porch, as the evening deepened, Elias asked quietly, "Do you really think something is out there?"
Daniel looked at him, his expression serious. "I don't know, Elias, but the signs are clear. Stay alert and trust your instincts."
That night, Elias sat by his window with the shotgun resting across his knees and the carved plank beside him. Outside, the salt lines glimmered under the moonlight. The wind had died down completely. The world beyond his window was quiet, almost too quiet.
Then, a sound; a faint scrape. Not close, not yet, but it's there. And it was closer.
Elias held his breath, his heart pounding as he listened. "I must be ready," he whispered to himself, the weight of his responsibility settling in.