Summer was fast ending and we had been to a few lakes but they were full, the camp grounds were not the same as when I was little, they were dirty and the bathroom were filthier. I felt Amber needed to experience what a peaceful and tranquil lake away fro

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the water, I felt a wave of contentment wash over me. Amber's laughter echoed around us, a sound that was both innocent and joyful. I closed my eyes, allowing the warmth of the sun and the gentle lapping of the water against the shore to lull me into a sense of peace. However, in the back of my mind, a nagging thought began to surface. The map had seemed so clear, so simple—a secluded lake with no signs of civilization. I had envisioned our escape from the crowded campsites, a haven for just the two of us where we could bond and create memories. Yet, the realization that there might be people nearby cast a shadow over my tranquility. "Mom, can we go swimming again?" Amber's voice broke through my reverie. I smiled and opened my eyes to see her standing with her hands on her hips, her enthusiasm contagious. "Sure, honey, just give me a moment," I replied, shaking off the unsettling thoughts. I forced a smile as I got up from my towel and adjusted my sunglasses. We waded into the cool water together. The sensation of the lake enveloping us was invigorating, and I couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment, for the bond we shared. As Amber splashed around, her joy was infectious, and I let myself become lost in her laughter. But as the sun continued to set, casting elongated shadows across the water, I noticed something peculiar at the edge of the woods. A flicker of movement—was it just a trick of the fading light? I squinted, trying to make out the figure, but it disappeared behind the trees. Dismissing it as a deer or perhaps a trick of my imagination, I turned back to Amber, trying to focus on the present. "Mom, look! A frog!” She pointed excitedly, bouncing on her feet in the shallows. “Catch it!” I laughed, but deep down, I couldn't shake the strange sensation that had settled in my gut. I chalked it up to the isolation of our surroundings, the unpredictability of being in nature after years of crowded campsites and debauchery. After a couple of hours of swimming and playing games in the water, we finally retreated to the shore, drying off in the waning sun. As twilight approached, painted oranges and purples began to fill the sky, and with it, the first hints of nighttime chill. "Let’s make a campfire," I suggested, trying to shake off the last remnants of my unease and turns this moment into a cherished memory. Amber enthusiastically gathered sticks and twigs, her spirit untainted by the outside world. While we prepared the fire, I found myself contemplating the secluded nature of our spot. "What if those hidden houses belong to people who don't want visitors?" I mused aloud. Amber paused, her brow furrowed. "Do you think they’ll come here?" I didn’t want to alarm her but felt I needed to assure her in some way. “No, sweetheart, as long as we’re here, people will respect our space. Besides, we’re just having fun.” As the flames crackled to life, illuminating our little patch of paradise, I began to relax again. We roasted marshmallows, made s'mores, and talked quietly, as the stars began to twinkle overhead. Amber shared stories from school, animatedly recounting her classmates' antics. But as I stared into the fire, my mind wandered back to that fleeting shadow at the tree line. I discreetly scanned the edges of the woods, just in case. Every sound seemed amplified in the stillness, making me hyper-aware of our surroundings. It was just us, and in the quiet expanse of nature, there was no room for error. Later that night, as we crawled into our tent, tired but happy, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. Perhaps it was just the remnants of my imagination, but in a world where one secluded lake could hide secrets, I couldn’t help but wonder what lurked in the dark, just beyond our firelight. As I lay there, listening to the sounds of the night—crickets chirping, the rustle of leaves—I felt Amber’s steady breathing beside me. She was safe, I reassured myself. But deep down, I knew that this adventure was just beginning, and I had a newfound resolve to protect my daughter, no matter the cost.