Like someone invading my personal space, the forest leaned in. I wanted to back away, but everywhere I turned more trees towered, more twigs and bushes grabbed at my sandals and pulled my hair. Even the smell, like a mildewing rag left on the kitchen counter clutched at me.
"What would you do with a Bigfoot?" It was meant to sound indifferent, but my voice squeaked and told the truth. Tattle tale.
Quinn's muddy brown eyes narrowed. His rosy cheeks puffed out. Then he laughed: a musical note like the short powerful blow of a trumpet. A warning.
"No one CATCHES a Bigfoot, dummy."