Jack killed the engine and leapt down. His daughter’s fear was real, etched in her wide eyes. And then he saw it.
A frail kitten lay on the ground, barely breathing. Its ears were torn, its tiny body weak and starved. If Mary hadn’t cried out, the tractor’s wheel would have crushed it.
Jack bent down, lifting the trembling creature with care. The sight tore at his heart. Yet as he held the fragile kitten, a chill whispered through him. He couldn’t know it yet, but this was only the beginning—the first sign of a day that would unravel every certainty he’d ever known.
Jack’s thoughts were abruptly cut short when Giselle came racing from the house, her face pale with urgency.
“Daddy, you have to see the cornfield!” she cried, her voice trembling.
Already uneasy, Jack climbed onto his tractor and steered toward the far edge of the house, bracing himself for whatever awaited. The closer he drew, the heavier the dread pressed on his chest.
At first, he saw only faint white specks glimmering among the stalks. But as the tractor rolled to a stop, the truth became clear. Dozens—no, scores—of strange white eggs littered the field where his corn should have stood.
Giselle stared, wide-eyed. “What is this, Dad?”