The sun was already starting to set; the pale orange hue was carefully blended into the pure blue sky, similarly to that of an artist's brush stroke. An intricate glaze of pink and purple was swiped across the horizon, signalling that dusk was fast approaching. The sight was truly breathtaking: it was just a shame that Jules' focus was on something more pressing.

It wasn't long until Jules heard another rustling sound from the shrubbery behind her; she whipped her head around so fast, that it was a surprise that she didn't get whiplash from her camera strap.

Her breathing quickened and her eyes narrowed to quickly scan the area.

"Hello?"

The only response Jules received was the sound of a swarm of birds flying over the trees above her head: the chirping startled her, causing her to duck immediately.

Jules wasn't usually afraid of anything. She was the fearless one in her group of friends: never the one to shy away from a good horror film with no unreasonable lingering paranoia. Julia Montgomery was brave.

But being separated from her friends made her somewhat fearful of the hidden dangers that could be lurking among the rows of trees.

A flash of grey caught her left eye: she gripped the straps of her navy blue backpack tightly and marched towards it. She trudged her way through the forest, silently hoping that it was her friends looking for her. Of course, it was wishful thinking, but hope was too important for Jules to let go of.

A few seconds later, Jules was faced with a truly mesmerising sight: an iridescent lake spread across the horizon with several deer drinking out of the water. The orange sky was carefully reflected against the lake, making it resemble pure satin. The water looked so smooth as it glittered in the sunlight, highlighting nature's natural beauty.

In that moment in time, the only thing Jules was itching to do was to run the tips of her fingers along the top of lake, to test if it was truly as soft as it looked. Instead, Jules lifted her camera and took several photographs of this rare beauty: it wasn't everyday that she saw a secluded bayou in the middle of the forest, surrounded by wild deer during sunset. It was truly magical and she wished that her friends were there with her to witness it too. Proud of finding such a secluded sight, Jules took a quick look at her photography.

She peered closely at her photographs that didn't seem to need editing in the slightest; she loved her Canon camera. The intensity of the deep shades of orange in the water was beautifully captured, and the graceful essence of the deer was expressed to such an extent, that it was perfect for showcase.

Jules loved animals, that much was true; to be given such an opportunity to capture the beauty of a secluded and serene bayou made her heart fill with love and pride. Her photography usually consisted of portraiture, but she dabbled in other areas occasionally.

One of the many things Jules liked to do was to take a photograph of the same setting in the same angle, several times in a row. She wasn't entirely sure why she did this, but it was one of Fliss' greatest pet peaves. Jules flicked to the next photograph; her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she saw something truly unusual. Two photographs would have been completely identical, if it wasn't for a small black square in the far distance in one image. She looked up from her camera at the scene before her, this time focusing on the rows of trees in the distance on her right.

Surely enough, there was the little black square sitting on the outskirts of the bayou. How peculiar.

Deciding to throw all caution to the wind, Jules started to pass the bayou to make her way towards the mysterious box. Why on Earth was it only visible in one of her photographs and not the others?

Jules trudged along the marshy banks of the bayou, being careful not to slip. As she got closer, she noticed what the square truly was: it was an usual, dark, archaic little cabin that seemed to be on the verge of falling apart. It certainly didn't match the majestic scenery surrounding it.

Just as Jules was in arms length of the cabin, a low voice rumbled from inside; Jules scrambled towards a small shrub beside her and hid. The door of the old cabin creaked open and out stepped a man dressed in camouflage hunting gear. He took a sharp turn to face Jules' hiding spot and marched towards the shrubbery.

With panic rising within her, Jules quickly clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from breathing too loudly.

The large man marched towards the shrubs and extended a long arm into the small bush next to Jules. In one swift motion, he pulled out a black, seemingly heavy, drawstring bag and headed back inside the cabin again. Jules released the hand over her mouth and breathed out a sigh of relief. She was about to climb back out of the shrub until the cabin door swung open again.

The man took a step out of the cabin, no longer carrying his hunting gear or the black drawstring bag. He was now clad in a white tank top, pale brown shorts and a pair of Nike's. He quickly spun around on his heels to face the cabin and locked the door with a key buried in his back pocket.

Intrigued by his actions, Jules started to take some photographs, forgetting about the 'click' sound that resonated from the camera.

Immediately, the man's head whipped around in Jules' direction as she cursed silently under her breath. She clutched the camera close to her chest as the man continued to look in her direction, before breathing out a sigh of relief: the man went back to locking the cabin. He pulled away from the door and quickly started to collect several large broken tree branches from the ground. He dragged them towards the cabin and began to lift a few branches on top of the roof. He was using the branches as camouflage.

Unbeknownst to the strange man, Jules continued to take some more photographs. Thankfully, the man was not able to hear the sounds of the camera as the noise of him dragging the tree branches, easily drowned it out.

He took a few steps towards the bayou and crouched before the lake. He dug his hand into his back pocket and pulled out the same key he used to lock the cabin. He rubbed his thumb over the grooves in the metal before thrusting his hands into the water quite forcefully, to Jules' surprise. The water rose up to his elbows but he didn't seem to mind. After a few moments, he lifted his arms out of the water, but quickly washed his hands and face.

Jules was too busy taking photos to notice the streaks of red trailing up his bulging biceps.

The man then shook his arms quickly to remove the little water droplets; the heat was unbearable, but the man used it to his advantage knowing that the water will dry completely within a few minutes. The man walked away from the cabin and headed off into the forest, away from Jules.

Jules tilted her head in confusion. Why would someone hide a cabin and the key to go along with it? She lifted her camera up and took a quick look at some of the photos she had taken of the man.

He was tall at around 6 foot, with straggly chestnut hair that reached his broad shoulders. He was well built; his body glistened with sweat and his white tank top stuck to his olive skin. His biceps were visibly muscular in several of the photos and his strong, sharp facial features were enough to make anyone swoon. He had long, thin scars that traveled up his left arm and had the hint of a tattoo on his neck.

All in all, he was a form of perfect design. Jules felt her heart thumping loudly in her chest until a pang of guilt hit her deep in her heart: she already had a lover back in Wilbridge Town.

Ashamed at her attraction to the mysterious man, she hurriedly stepped out of the shrubs; she ran her hands down her arms and legs to remove the flakes of mud off of her tanned skin. She wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand; the blazing summer heat certainly didn't help, but as the sun was setting, she hoped the temperature would cool.

She removed her navy backpack and carefully placed the camera on the ground beside her. Jules scrambled towards the edge of the bayou where the mysterious man was sitting just moments before.

She carefully peered into the water and saw nothing out of the ordinary: there was no wildlife in the lake as far as she could see, but there was also no evidence of the key either. She sighed and ran a hand through her thick wavy hair: something she often did when she was in deep thought.

Reluctantly, Jules dipped both hands into the water, digging them deeper and deeper until she felt the bed of the lake. It was shallower than she thought it would be, but she liked the way the smooth, soft grains of sand brushed against her fingers: it almost felt like velvet.

A few moments later, Jules found the silver key wedged into the bottom of the lake. She fumbled with the key in her dainty hands and shoved it into her pocket.

Darkness now surrounded Jules: the sun had finally set. The moonlight twinkled in the reflection of the bayou, and a gleam of silver glazed over the waters. The deer that had once drank from the water had already descended back into the woods.

Jules was completely alone with nothing but the deafening echoes of the chirping crickets.

She was grateful that she had worn a tank top and shorts: the sweltering heat that was once evident in the morning had only cooled slightly. Jules was still incredibly warm, but she only realised how hot she was after she heaved the branches away from the cabin.

It was difficult as Jules suffered minor scratches from the tree branches and had mud buried deep into her fingernails; she dumped the branches in a heap beside the bayou. She wiped the layer of sweat off her brow once more, before pulling the damp key out of her pocket.

She looked back up at the musty cabin and ran her fingers along the grains of wood on the door. Pieces of oak were crumbling in her fingers, the panels seemed as though they were giving way and the strong smell of mold wafted up Jules' nose.

She ignored the putrid smell as best as she could and inserted the key into the lock. In one swift motion, she unlocked the door and hauled it open.