Page 47 of Silent Neighbor

Carefully, he began to make his way along the narrow ledge. The footing was treacherous, loose scree and pebbles threatening to send him plummeting with every step. But Raven moved with the sure-footed grace of a mountain goat, his body instinctively adjusting to the unstable terrain.

As he neared the cave entrance, Raven paused, listening intently. In the wilderness, caves were often home to wildlife, and disturbing a bear or mountain lion in its den would be a fatal mistake—assuming they could reach such an isolated cave.

But the only sound was the whisper of the wind and the distant cry of a hawk.

Satisfied that it was safe, Raven ducked into the cave. The temperature dropped immediately, the cool darkness a stark contrast to the sun-baked cliff face. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw that the cave was deeper than he had initially thought, extending back into the heart of the mountain.

Raven moved further inside, his footsteps echoing softly off the rock walls. The cave widened into a small chamber, large enough for him to stand comfortably. Shafts of sunlight filtered through cracks in the ceiling, providing just enough light to see by.

He imagined his target, cocky and overconfident, making her way up the cliff face. He would watch her progress, timing his intervention perfectly. Perhaps he would allow her to reach the ledge, to taste the triumph of her supposed conquest. And then, just as she believed herself victorious, he would reveal the truth of her vulnerability.

Raven felt a sense of rightness settles over him. This was why he was here, why he had been spared all those years ago when Linda had fallen. He was a guardian of the wilderness, a protector of its sacred spaces. Through his actions, he would ensure that those who came to these places did so with the proper reverence and respect.

As he settled in to wait, Raven's hand unconsciously moved to the frayed rope bracelet he always wore. It was a reminder of the lesson he had learned, a physical connection to the moment that had set him on this path. He ran his fingers over the worn fibers, feeling each imperfection, each reminder of his brush with death.

Soon, he thought. She'll be here soon.

Raven would be ready. Ready to deliver a lesson that she—and through her, the world—would never forget.

The stage was set. The mountain waited, indifferent to the drama about to unfold upon its ancient face. And Raven, its self-appointed guardian, prepared to once again carry out what he saw as his sacred duty.

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