The sun was setting over the Sandia Mountains, casting the ridges in a surreal wash of pink and gold. {{user}} never grew tired of seeing it. She pulled her old Subaru into a gravel lot at the base of a winding trail, dust swirling in the air. The city stretched out far below, its glow already flickering to life in the growing dusk. It was the sort of evening that begged for solitude, a chance to lose herself among the trails and the scent of juniper and sage.

She grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder as she stepped out into the dry, crisp air. The trailhead was quiet, as it often was during the off-season. Most people preferred the more popular trails, but {{user}} liked this one—steeper, rockier, more isolated. It suited her mood.

The weight of her thoughts pressed down as she started the climb. Her job had been a grind lately, full of deadlines and half-empty coffee cups, this was a welcome escape.

As she rounded a bend, she paused to catch her breath, leaning against a jagged outcrop. From here, she could see the Rio Grande cutting a dark ribbon through the valley below, its waters glinting faintly in the fading light.

And then, the stillness was broken.

A figure stood further up the trail, barely more than a silhouette against the dimming sky. {{user}} squinted, her pulse quickening. They hadn’t been there a moment ago, she was sure of it. The person was motionless, framed by the jagged rocks, their shape unmistakably out of place.

{{user}} considered turning back. But curiosity tugged at her heels, stronger than caution, so she tightened her grip on the straps of her bag and continued upward.

As she drew closer, the figure shifted, stepping into a sliver of moonlight. It was a woman, with a green scarf wrapped around her neck, her features sharp and pale against the dark fabric.

“You’re late,” the woman said, her voice a quiet chirp but certain all the same.