Trees. (Y/N) trudged through the mud and spider webs. She knew she wouldn't find anything specific to her friend's death, it had been two years after all, but she still felt like she might find something. It was important, (Y/N) decided, to find out if the information was related to the forest in some way. Maybe there was an illegal drug growing operation, or a hitman service sourced from inside the forest, perhaps it's the base of an evil new world order trying to topple the government in order to establish global dominance, or even a cult. It was also entirely possible that the forest wasn't the problem. A teenager stamping through a forest, alone, weak, defenceless; if someone had ever wanted to get rid of (F/N) that was the perfect opportunity. If anyone wanted to get rid of (Y/N) this is the time to do it.

     With that thought, a shiver ran down (Y/N)'s spine. She hadn't packed a weapon. She had a dull pocket knife, mostly used for opening tough packages. She turned around to head home, but stopped when she saw a patch of sparkling grass. Blood. It was difficult to pinpoint, but she found a trail heading towards and away from the blood patch. After mulling over it for a minute, (Y/N) started to follow the trail that was darker; she reasoned the darker, bloodier, trail would lead to the most clues.

     It had been a full hour since she had started to follow the blood trail. Nothing interesting appeared. There were noises however, they grew louder as time and (Y/N) marched on. Thirty minutes later and (Y/N) could pinpoint the sound, talking. Without thinking, she plunges into the deep woods,away from the blood trail, towards the sound.

     She saw, while hiding behind a tree, two people kissing. They were young teenagers, younger than she was, not cultists. Dejected, she tried to head back to the blood trail. She couldn't find it. She searched around the area and found familiar landmarks. There was the tree with names carved into it, and over there was that big rock that kind of looked like a fossil. Where was the blood trail? It couldn't have just disappeared, she reasoned. Whatever was happening was bad. She didn't know if she was just lost, if she might have imagined the blood trail, or if something more sinister was going on. Regardless, she knew she had to get out of there.

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     Back home, she did a different type of investigating. Using her (F/C) laptop she checked on her dead friend's social media. She wasn't looking for any posts, but rather at the followers list. A number of people on the lists stood out to her, but they were the normal type of creeps. A few that looked like bots, some people who follow for a follow back, and five or so older men likely looking for some beach photos. Nothing that screamed out cultist or killer. (Y/N) started to understand why the investigators were having so much trouble, investigating is hard, and she truthfully didn't know where to really start.

     It's not like she could go over to her dead friend's house to look for clues. That'd be seen as weird, and (F/N)'s parents don't even live there anymore. They felt like they had to leave after losing their daughter, couldn't blame them, all that pity and extra attention people that don't even know you give when you lose a loved one. Horrible.

     Pulling up the web browser, she searches the recent events that happened around that time. Similar unexplained deaths nearby? Not really. Cult sightings in the area? None reported. Anything, really Anything at all that sticks out? The only odd thing that happened nearby at that time was the friend's death. She thought about going back to the forest, that blood trail might have been something, but it was risky. What if things didn't go as smooth this time? If those kissing teens were dangerous people instead, there's not much she could have done. She couldn't do this alone, she needed help in one way or another.

     Interviews, that was the solution. She couldn't ask others to explore the forest with her, it'd be selfish to drag others into it. Asking people a few questions about the case, wouldn't be dangerous, hopefully.

     They were simple questions, loose questions not meant to raise suspicion. Do you remember what happened here two years ago? Do you know where (F/N)'s parents moved to? Have you seen odd, unexplained things happen in town?

     It was that last question that truly mattered. (Y/N) received a multitude of responses to it, some mundane and some that were certainly odd, but probably unrelated.

    "My dog barks at 2am every night ever since we moved here." Odd, but not unheard of.

    "My son keeps talking to someone that's not there." Those are called imaginary friends.

    "Food in my house keeps disappearing and I'm not the one eating it." That might have been something if it wasn't for your constantly snacking husband.

    Then there was the answer that surprised her. It wasn't an answer really, but rather a question mixed with a statement.

    "Have you noticed anything odd happen in this town?" She asks for what feels like the 47th time today, not that she's keeping track.

    "You're looking into that death that happened two years ago. You're the talk of town now. Gossip travels fast. It's dumb to try and look into these things. People don't know when to just leave things alone." The man who couldn't have been more than four years her senior looked down at her with judging eyes. Then a smile popped up and his posture changed to an almost goofy state. "I'm one to judge. I've tried to look into it myself, got a lot closer to it than you ever will and still couldn't solve it."

    "So you'll help me?"

    "Sure, it's not like I have anything more important to do. I have lots of time to go searching for clues like a wannabe detective."(Y/N) started to walk away, reasoning that this sarcastic man would be of little help, when he leaped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "This Saturday 5 p.m at the town park near the water fountain. I'll give you some information to help, and you'll give me some cash."

     She gave a quick nod and was about to say something when she notices he's already walking away. Saturday it is. Saturday, this investigation can truly begin.