Nash
For some reason, moving through the woods on the return trip seemed to be taking much longer than I expected, so much so that I began to wonder if I was even on the right trail, or if I had somehow veered off in a wrong direction. In the eerie green-glow of my night glasses, all the trees looked the same.
I also had the eerie and uncomfortable feeling that I was being followed. I couldn’t put my finger on it, it was more like a six sense tingling than anything tangible, I just had that gut feeling. I stopped, held my breath, strained my ears against the sound of my own breathing, the sound of my own heartbeat, both of which seemed unnaturally loud.
There was a sound. Was it a snapping twig? Nah, it was my mind playing tricks on me. It was PTSD trying to pull me in to a flashba
