Something about this was a bad idea, but looking back on the lumberjack chasing them through the forest, Mark figured it was too late to change his mind.

His little brother kept shooting a look at him. The sixteen year old didn’t have the breath to ask it, but Mark knew the question he wanted to ask was “why”.

“Don’t panic, I’ve got this under control,” he managed to wheeze out.

Tom didn’t look like he believed him. Mark dragged him around to the other side of a tree.

Taking a couple big gulps of air, Tom hit him in the arm. “Wh-”

“Shh!”

They waited for the axe-armed man to run by their location. Yep, too late to change his mind. Holding Tom’s forearm, Mark turned them around back toward the cabin.