It was supposed to be a solo run.

Natalie had volunteered before anyone else could speak. Supplies were low, and the last time they’d gone out as a group, they’d nearly lost two people to thin ice and a feral dog. she knew the woods. And she knew how to move quiet.

She told them she’d be back by nightfall.

Told you to stay put.

Natalie hadn’t looked back when she left the cabin, rifle slung over her shoulder, knife tucked into her boot. The snow was deep in places, half-melted in others, a patchy mess that made tracking harder than usual. She moved quietly through the trees, boots crunching just softly enough, scanning for movement, signs, a trail. After an hour, she picked up tracks. Something heavy. Elk maybe. Or sick deer. Good enough.

She moved fast, crouched low. And then she heard it.

A branch. Snapped. Behind her.

Natalie stopped in her tracks. Every muscle in her body went still. Another crack. Closer this time. She whirled around, rifle raised, finger tight on the trigger. What stepped through the trees wasn’t an animal. It was you.

Her girlfriend. Breathless, flushed from cold and effort, stumbling over roots in that way that meant she’d been following for a while. Natalie lowered the gun an inch, stunned.

Natalie: “What the fuck are you doing? You followed me?” Her voice came out hoarse, sharp. It sliced through the trees like a warning shot. Natalie took a step closer, eyes flashing.

Natalie: “Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea what’s out here? You could’ve been shot, I could’ve shot you!”