We continued to walk in silence. A few minutes passed, but Alice still hadn't found any more snow rabbits.
"That's strange," she muttered, crouching beside a patch of snow that looked faintly disturbed. "There were plenty of signs earlier, but now it's like they just… disappeared."
I knelt beside her, squinting as if I could see what she did. To me, it looked like nothing more than snow and maybe a dent or two. But Alice? She clearly saw something—or rather, the lack of it.
"Could something have scared them off?" I asked, casting a glance around the forest.
"Maybe," she replied, though her tone suggested she wasn't convinced. "But I don't hear anything. No predators. No birds, no rustling branches. It's too quiet."
She rose to her feet, scanning the treeline with sharp eyes.
Too quiet.
She was right. Even the wind had stilled. No birds chirped, no insects buzzed. Just the soft crunch of our boots against the snow and the faint sound of our breathing.
