The first thing Anisha noticed was the silence.
It wasn't the peaceful kind that settled over the streets at dusk. This silence felt wrong—like the air itself was holding its breath. Even the usual chatter from roadside vendors had faded into nothing.
She slowed her steps.
"Do you hear that?" she asked quietly.
Beside her, her younger sister tightened her grip on the edge of Anisha's sleeve. "Hear what?"
"Exactly."
That was the problem.
The road they were on should have been busy. Lanterns hung loosely outside closed stalls, swaying in a wind that didn't quite reach them. A broken crate lay overturned, oranges scattered and crushed into the dirt like they had been abandoned in a hurry.
Anisha's chest tightened.
"Stay close," she murmured.
Her sister didn't argue this time.
They had barely taken a few more steps when it came—a sharp whistle, slicing through the stillness.
Anisha froze.
Then—
Footsteps.
Not one. Not two.
Many.
Her heart dropped.
