He left them empty-handed one gray morning, without long goodbyes or explanations that could stand on their own. Just a light backpack for each of them, a couple of crumpled bills, and a gaze that avoided theirs.

“It’s for the best,” said his father, as if repeating it could make it true.

Lucía didn’t answer. At 16, she had learned that some phrases weren’t meant to offer comfort, but to elicit silence. Tomás, her younger brother, barely 13, didn’t say anything either. He just clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

When the door closed behind them, the world became too big.

And they were too small.

They walked aimlessly for hours. The city faded into the distance, replaced by dirt roads, scattered trees, and an open sky that seemed to observe them with indifference.

“Where are we going?” Tomás finally asked.

Lucia looked around. She had no answer.

—Where we can stay.

That was it.

The sun began to set as they reached a small forest. It wasn’t dense, but enough to conceal them from the world. The air smelled of damp earth and dry leaves.

Tomás let himself fall next to a fallen log.

-I’m tired.

Lucía sat down next to him. The silence between them was no longer awkward. It was necessary.

“We’re going to spend the night here,” he said.

Tomás nodded without arguing.

But that night, the cold taught them something important: it wasn’t enough to just survive the day. They had to think about the next one.

The next morning, Lucia made a decision.

—We can’t keep moving. We need a place.

Thomas looked at the forest.

-Here?

Lucía followed his gaze. That’s when she saw him.

A huge tree, long since fallen. Its upturned roots formed a kind of natural wall. The thick, solid trunk created a barrier against the wind.

-There.

Tomás frowned.

-That?

-Below.

He looked at her, confused.

—Do you want to… dig?

Lucia nodded.

-Yeah.

Tomás let out a small, incredulous laugh.

—A hole?

—A refuge.

There was a moment of doubt.

Then, without further ado, they began.

At first it was clumsy. They used branches, stones, their hands. The earth was hard, but it gradually gave way. Each improvised shovelful was an act of defiance against their situation.

Hours passed.

Then days.

The hole began to take shape.

First, it was enough to sit down.

Then, to go to bed.

Then, to move around with some ease.

They covered the entrance with branches and leaves, leaving a small space to enter and exit.

“It looks… real,” said Thomas one night, looking at his creation.

Lucia smiled slightly.

-It is.

It wasn’t a house. It had no brick walls or tiled roof. But it was his.

And that changed everything.

The first few days were tough.

Hunger was constant. The cold, persistent. Fear, silent but always present.

But little by little, they learned.

Lucía found safe berries. Tomás learned to catch small animals with improvised traps. They collected rainwater, storing it in bottles they had found along their way.

The hole was transformed.

They added a layer of mud for insulation.

They created a rudimentary ventilation system.

They even managed to make a small space for a controlled campfire.

“We’re like moles,” joked Tomás.

—Very clever moles —Lucía replied.

Time passed.

Days turned into weeks.

And weeks into months.

The forest ceased to be unknown. It became their world.

They learned its sounds, its rhythms, its secrets.

But not everything was peaceful.

There were nights when the wind howled too loudly.

Or where strange noises broke the calm.

One night, a particularly cold one, Tomás woke up suddenly.

—Did you hear that?

Lucia opened her eyes.

Silence.

-Nothing.

—No, seriously… someone is there.

They both remained still.

Then they heard him.

Steps.

Boards.

Heavy.

Someone… or something… was walking nearby.

Tomás grabbed a sharpened branch that he used as a spear.

Lucia held her breath.

The footsteps drew closer.

Then they stopped.

Right above them.

Lucia’s heart was beating so hard that she was afraid it could be heard from outside.

A shadow covered the entrance.

Someone gently moved the branches aside.

An eye appeared.

Observing.

Lucía and Tomás remained motionless.

The eye blinked.

Then he disappeared.

The footsteps slowly faded away.

They didn’t speak for several minutes.

“They found us…” whispered Tomás.

Lucia denied it.

—No.

-But-

—If they had found us, they wouldn’t have left.

That didn’t reassure either of them.

They didn’t sleep that night.

The next day, they reinforced everything.

More branches.

More land.

Be more careful.

—We have to be invisible —Lucía said.

Thomas nodded.

But something had changed.

The forest no longer felt completely safe.

A few days passed without incident.

Until they found something.

Tomás was checking one of his traps when he saw something strange on the ground.

—Lucía, come here.

She approached.

There were footprints on the ground.

Humanities.

But not normal.

They were deeper than they should have been.

As if whoever left them… weighed too much.

“I don’t like this,” said Thomas.

Lucia watched in silence.

The footprints surrounded the area.

As if someone had been watching.

“We have to prepare,” he finally said.

-So that?

Lucia looked at him.

—For whatever is out there.

That night, the forest was too quiet.

No wind.

No animals.

Lifeless.

Lucia couldn’t sleep.

Something wasn’t right.

And then…

A sound.

From the inside.

From the shelter.

They both froze.

“Did you hear that?” Thomas whispered.

Lucia nodded slowly.

The sound was coming from one of the walls.

A slight… scratch.

As if something were… digging.

From the other side.

Tomás’s heart began to beat uncontrollably.

—Lucía…

The scratch turned into a blow.

Then in another one.

The earth shook slightly.

—No… —Lucía murmured.

Something was trying to get in.

From below.

Not from the forest.

From the earth itself.

The hole, their refuge, their home…

It wasn’t as safe as they thought.

The ground cracked.

A hand emerged.

Ground cover.

But it wasn’t normal.

Too long.

Too thin.

Thomas shouted.

Lucia grabbed him.

—We’re leaving now!

But the exit was blocked.

Branches moving.

Something was up there too.

They were trapped.

The hand moved.

Then another one.

And another one.

What emerged was not human.

But not completely uninvolved either.

And at that moment, Lucia understood something terrible:

They had not built a shelter.

They had dug…

The entrance.

Something I had been waiting for for a long time.

And now…

I had found them.