Alma moved around a tree as she trudged deeper into the woods. She had been hiking for a few hours now, and the once light blue sky had deepened into the dark blue and orange ombré of twilight. Alma knew she had to venture back to her car eventually, but she had gone so far already, and she decided while it was still light out she wanted to make the most of her hike. Alma never liked letting the locations she visited go to waste, and she tried to get as much value out of her explorations as possible. Besides, when it did get dark out, she had the necessary tools and skills to get back to her car.

The leaves crunched under her feet as she walked through the forest. As of now she had seen nothing of note except for the miles of trees and the occasional giant rock, stray logs and branches scattered across the ground, or woodland animal skittering by. While she'd take a break every half-hour or so, for the most part Alma was full of energy and walked for miles. However, Alma was at the point where she started to grow tired and needed to take another break.

She was just about ready to throw her pack down and just plop down on the ground then and there when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Immediately alerted, Alma recomposed herself and walked forward as to confirm her eyes were not deceiving her. She was proven correct when she saw, lying in the middle of the woods, was a shack.

The shack was old, she had quickly made note upon seeing it, and shoddy, as most shacks located in the woods were. It was constructed out of rotten old wood and rusty metal sheets. A worn old wooden door served as the entrance, and the only window present was dirty and broken.

Alma blinked twice to make sure her brain really wasn't playing tricks on her. Once it was clear to her it wasn't and this was very much real, Alma just stared in shock. Sure, she had encountered oddities on her travels before, but this was the first time she saw something like this in the woods, especially finding it least of all on the cursed grounds of Crystal Lake.

Alma suddenly recalled Jason, and a cold shiver ran through her as the thought that this could've been his home dawned on her. It was chilling to be in such close proximity to something with such a horrific history behind it. But as the cold feeling of dread numbed her body, a small spark flickered and burned to life as another feeling emerged. A feeling that, once Alma realized it was there, a mix of chastisement and hesitance sprung in her brain.

She was curious.

She knew she was being an idiot. She knew this wasn't a good idea. But the burning, forbidden feeling of curiosity got at her like an itch she desperately had to scratch. Alma explored to see what others couldn't see, and this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Besides, as the logical part of her brain reminded, all that Camp Blood junk, was just that, junk. Jason was long dead, and as indicated by the aging and subpar condition of the shack, the place had long since been abandoned.

After a few more minutes of contemplation, Alma took a long deep breath, looked up, and making what was probably the most riskiest move of her career yet, walked onward towards the murder house.

Jason was furious.

For the past few hours he had been following the woman, always a few feet away from her and just out of sight of where she couldn't see, but Jason almost threatened to reveal himself when she saw her walking towards his house.

He suddenly regretted and kicked himself mentally at letting this woman live for so long; why oh why had he let himself be so stupid in the name of satisfying his boredom? He should've killed her when he had the chance.
His charcoal grey knuckles turned white gripping the machete so hard with rage he started shaking a bit when he saw her actually entering his house. If Jason thought he was angry before, upon seeing that his anger reached levels he never thought possible.

That's it. She had to die.

With heavy stomps, Jason trudged in the direction of his home.