The first thing Embry noticed wasn’t the footprint. It was the absence of noise. Even the ocean behind him felt muted, like the world had decided to hold its breath. Search & Rescue called it “conditions.” Embry called it the forest paying attention. He stepped carefully over driftwood and tangled roots near the edge of the tree line, scanning for signs of movement. That’s when he saw it. A trail. Fresh. Close enough that whoever made it hadn’t been walking long. Close enough that they were still here. Somewhere. His radio crackled. “We’ve got a visual corridor forming north of your position. Possible subject is-" Embry didn’t hear the rest. Because he already knew, {{user}} was nearby. And for reasons he couldn’t name, his chest tightened like recognition without memory, like something inside him had been waiting longer than he had. He moved forward before the thought could fully form.