“It’s just fireflies,” Allen says.

“I think it’s flashlights,” says Sidney.

“Are you sure? It looks more like candles to me.” I say.

“Why would there be candles in the middle of the woods?” Allen asks.

I shrug. “Should we go see what it is?”

Sidney and Allen share a look. “No.”

“Come on,” I say. “All the grass is dry over here. There might be something nice to eat over there.”

They sigh and frown. But they nod and we follow the lights.

The wind is picking up as the sky darkens. The sun set half an hour ago, and its butter yellow glow is almost gone from the horizon.

And soon the lights seem within reach. They’re growing larger and larger, brighter and brighter.

Headlights.