Edward North stood and stared down the narrow lane. It was barely bigger than a hiking trail, perhaps just wide enough for a single car to wind its way beneath the large trees. Here, the smooth pavement of the main road stopped, and he scrutinized the dirt track in front of him for signs that anyone had recently passed this way. There were no markings or footprints in the soft earth, and the bed of colorful leaves strewn across the ground appeared undisturbed. Still, where else could they have gone?

He moved as quickly and quietly as he could, buttoning his dark suit jacket against a gust of wind that sent showers of falling leaves swirling around him. It was getting harder to see, and he estimated he had under an hour until dusk settled into night. After that, he’d have to give up.

His business attire, with its thin material and stylish but smooth bottomed shoes, wasn’t designed for the woods, and he gave a wide berth to the more damp sections of the trail. Here and there, he gripped onto thin saplings with his gloved hand to keep from slipping, all the while careful not to make any undue noise.

As he rounded a bend in the path, he considered turning back when he thought he saw a figure duck behind a large boulder. Throwing caution to the wind, he sprinted ahead. Twigs snapped under his feet, and puddles splashed up around him. His breathing was loud in his ears as he arrived at the spot and cursed.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Mr. North stared at the swaying birch tree, its white bark and arm-like branches gleaming in the fading light. He’d gambled, and his impatience had cost him. With all the racket he’d made, there was little to no chance that anyone actually nearby was unaware of his presence. Dejected, he spun on his heels and began the long walk back to the main road.

He had just paused to scrape a lump of mud from his shoe when he heard it. Had the air not been completely still, it might have passed for the rustling of branches. But as the scratching noise grew louder, it evolved into what sounded like whispers.

Straightening, Mr. North peered down the trail, eyeing every rock and tree as though a potential enemy. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, a chorus, with voices like nails on a chalkboard, screeched in fury from somewhere in the expanding dark — and Edward North ran.

Keeping his focus straight ahead, his arms pumped through the air as his long legs worked feverishly. He didn’t once glance back to see what was coming down the path in the wood. Instead, he utilized every ounce of energy to propel himself forward. Twice he slipped, hitting the ground hard, but quickly got back to his feet, each time redoubling his efforts.

As he approached the intersection of the main road, a silver sedan came flying into view. Its tires screeched as it slid to a stop, and the passenger door flung open. Mr. Poole sat behind the wheel, revving the engine like a race car driver anxiously waiting for a green light.

With a final burst of speed, Mr. North closed the distance and leaped inside headfirst. The screeching voices reached a deafening crescendo as the car shot off into the night, its door still open.