A full moon brightened the clear night sky and Jahan Fatima relished the warmth of the pashmina shawl around her shoulders and stared into the wilderness, marveling at the calm thump of her heartbeat. A soft breeze played with the strands of her hair that had escaped her long braid. These moments of blissful silence were why she left the security of a well-respected profession as a high school teacher, and the safety of her home, and ventured into the unknown, embracing the lifestyle of a travel vlogger. A contented smile adorned her plump, rosy lips. She had an uncanny feeling that nothing could go wrong when nature surrounded her. And then the silence broke by a shrill scream, startling her and bringing her out of her blissful stupor.

For a second, she didn't know what happened or what she should do. She was the only one awake at such an ungodly hour, and when she took the short walk to the clearing within the woods behind her hotel, she didn't anticipate hearing a blood-curdling scream. What did people do in such circumstances? She considered her options. Should she run to the hotel to wake the guard or hide in her room? No, that didn't seem right, and the compassion won. She ran toward the sound, hoping the person wasn't badly hurt and she was in time to help them.

The path was uneven, and her Kolhapuri chappal wasn't fit for running. Twice she stumbled and righted herself, yet she didn't slow down. A second scream never came, and she wondered if she was running in the right direction. Before long, Jahan heard another set of running steps on the gravel path winding between the trees. A man rushed out from behind the hedges, directly in her line of vision, and skidded to a halt. His chest heaved with the effort to breathe. He gulped for air and she followed suit, barely able to catch her breath. Her confused eyes met his frantic ones in the dim light. And she saw the fear written on his face that mirrored hers.

Jahan recovered first, instinctively stepping back. "I heard a scream. Are you hurt?"

"It wasn't me, but—" The man couldn't finish. His breath came in labored gasps, a stark contrast to the thin, crisp air.

Running at such a high altitude, when he wasn't used to it, must've taken a toll on him. Jahan thought and took the moment to observe him. He appeared to be in his early or mid-thirties. She couldn't tell the color of his eyes or hair, but he had striking features; gentle and strong at the same time. He wore the traditional shalwar kameez. She noticed some stains on his kameez, but couldn't tell what it was from the distance. His hands were bunched into fists, and he seemed to be fighting with himself. She wasn't scared of the stranger in the woods, but she also felt like she shouldn't be with him alone.

Yet, she waited for him to speak, but before he could continue, more voices came from behind her. She turned and watched three people striding toward them. Relief flooded her as she recognized the brisk, no-nonsense baritone of the hotel's guard, Mahdi.

"Miss Jahan, is that you?" he said from afar.

As they approached near, she replied, "Yes, it's me and some guy I don't know."

They held torch lights, and Jahan recognized the other two men to be the hotel manager and his son. She wondered if the scream had been loud enough to wake them, or if Mahdi was already on duty. Nothing happened in the hotel or around it without his knowledge. Not only diligent in his job, he was also the kindest person she had ever met. His presence abated some of her fears, and her heartbeat became normal.

Her attention went back to the stranger, whose breathing had eased as well. The lamps lining the pathway had been sufficient to see, but the added light had brought things further into focus. Jahan realized that it was blood that covered his kameez.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she took several steps backward, away from him and closer to the hotel staff. Eyes wide, not as much in fear but more in shock, she pointed to the man's bloodied hands and said, "What have you done?"

"Please," the guy croaked and reached out with an arm raised. As if to stop her. Why her horror mattered to him was unclear.

"Sir, stay right there," Mahdi said. "And identify yourself."

The man regained his composure and straightened. His voice was firm and steady as he said, "There's a body." He gestured over his shoulder with a trembling hand.

"A body?" The words came out haltingly, and Jahan grabbed Mahdi's arm for support. Her eyes widened further, and she clutched her chest as the older man supported her.

The manager and his son went to investigate while Mahdi gestured for the stranger to come forward and sit on a nearby bench. In the daytime, it was guests' favorite place to sit and reflect, but right then, it was eerily quiet.

Jahan watched the man's movements as he slowly, almost painfully, walked to the bench and plopped down with a heavy sigh.

"Are you hurt?" Mahdi asked him in a softer voice.

"No, I'm okay. This isn't my blood. I wanted to check if the woman needed help. But given the amount of blood, I should've known better..." He trailed off. The man's face was gaunt and pale, his dark eyes sunken and bloodshot, as if he had witnessed more than just a dead body.

Something about the whole situation unsettled Jahan. The night was too peaceful to end in a tragedy. And the thought of a dead woman made her shudder. She felt her face drain of color, and her mouth went dry. Holding her shawl around her shoulders, she hoped to disappear within the folds of the soft fabric. Who would've considered that a midnight stroll would lead her to such an event?

The men returned then and interrupted her chain of thought. Their grim faces were proof enough that something terrible took place. The illusion of peace shattered and Jahan felt her tumbling down a rabbit hole.

When she swayed on her feet, Mahdi gave her a concerned glance and said, "You should return to your room. The police will want to talk to you, but I'm sure it can wait till morning."

"But who is the woman?" Jahan's curiosity wouldn't let her rest until she knew exactly what was happening.

The scream she had heard earlier played in her mind. Over and over again. The sound had been grotesque enough to give her nightmares for the rest of her life. The fact that she had heard only a single scream followed by utter silence, bothered her in ways she couldn't understand let alone explain.

"It's Meena," the manager said, and somehow, that made things worse.

A sob escaped Jahan. She knew the woman. Meena had been one of her first friends when she came to Chitral. The native woman had been a ray of sunshine. Always ready to give anyone who needed it a helping hand. She knew every corner of the valley like the back of her hand and appointed herself Jahan's unofficial guide, touring the landscape together. How could she be gone? Who would want to harm the sweet Meena? Jahan's thoughts swirled with a mix of grief, shock, and the urgency to understand what had happened.

Only yesterday, Meena told Jahan about her plan to visit a family in a neighboring town. She wasn't supposed to be on the hotel grounds, anyway. What could've prompted her to thwart her plan? And even if she never left, she had no reason to be in the woods at this late hour. The woman was terrified of the dark, secluded places. It didn't make sense.

"Miss Jahan," Mahdi said gently, "please return to the hotel. It's not safe here. You shouldn't have wandered into the woods so late at night. And this far from the hotel."

She knew the man was worried, but the admonishment in his tone annoyed her. "No one told me it wasn't safe. Everything I know of your small community suggests otherwise." There was bitterness in her voice as she recalled her laughter at Meena's irrational fear of the nighttime.

Growing up and living in a large city, Jahan had always assumed small towns were the epitome of peace and safety. She couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that a murderer roamed in a place that had appeared nothing short of a paradise to her. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her turmoil, but failed to control her emotions.

Thankfully, Mahdi didn't say anything else. He must have understood her need to vent and not taken her words personally. She wasn't blaming him or the community. She knew such things could happen anywhere, but the thought made her stomach churn. How many people could claim to have encountered a dead body? That didn't happen to normal people like her. Did it?

Momentarily closing her eyes and breathing deeply, she said, "I want to see." The statement didn't just shock the men but also herself. But now that the words were out, she knew she must see Meena one last time.

"See?" The manager's son raised his eyebrows and looked at her as if she had lost her mind, and maybe she had.

"Yes, I want to see if it's Meena."

"I don't think that's a good idea." This time, it was the stranger who spoke.

"I agree with the young man, Miss," the manager said, clearing his throat awkwardly. Then he whispered under his breath, "No one should see such a thing."

She heard him, but nothing they said would deter her. Meena was a dear friend and she was dead. Jahan needed to see with her own eyes and find out what happened. A part of her hoped the men were wrong, and it wasn't even Meena but someone else. Maybe the corpse was unrecognizable. However unrealistic, her mind clung to that slim chance like a woman drowning.

The men exchanged uncomfortable glances, but no one stopped her. Mahdi didn't show any interest in seeing the body. He had taken his colleagues' word for it. Jahan wondered if her desire to see the dead body made her an idiot. She shook the thought away, and with quick, sure steps followed the path behind the hedges and walked down the narrow pathway. Five minutes later, she saw a figure sprawled below a street lamp.

"Oh God," she moaned and rushed toward the unmoving form.

The woman's eyes were closed, and if you only looked at her face, she appeared to be sleeping. Though, nothing could be further from the truth. Blood coated her thick, black hair and pooled under her head. Her arms were bent at odd angles, broken beyond real. She was bare feet, and her dress was torn to shreds. There were claw marks on her bare legs. But the worst was her torso, or what was left of it. No wonder there wasn't a second scream. Deep, jagged lacerations crisscrossed the flesh, revealing torn muscles and shredded tissue. Blood's dark hue was stark against the pale, lifeless skin.

Jahan averted her eyes, her heart raced like crazy, and she couldn't stop the tears from falling unbidden. Meena, who used to be full of life, now looked so broken and still. Whoever killed her wasn't human. He couldn't be. A wave of nausea gripped her. The peaceful night had turned into a brutal, scary mess, and the reality of it hit her like a punch to the gut. The wind whispered through the empty walkway, stirring the leaves, and reminded Jahan of the darkness that lurked just beyond the safety of the illuminated path. Without another thought, she fled toward the relative safety of the hotel, now bright with every light turned on and people milling out, confused and fearful.