the porch boards groan under her weight as {{user}} walks across the wood, the paperwork clutched tightly against her chest. the night air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and distant rain, but the bunkhouse porch feels like a different world entirely. rip is there, a shadow among shadows, his boots cast aside and a half-empty bottle of beer dangling from his hand. he doesn't look up when she approaches, but she knows he felt the shift in the air the moment she stepped off the grass.

she sets the folder down on the small table beside him, her fingers lingering for a second too long on the paper. "dad wanted you to have these tonight," she says, her voice barely a notch above the wind. "said they couldn't wait for morning."

he finally tilts his head back, the moonlight catching the piercing blue of his eyes. he looks at her, really looks at her, the way he’s done for ten years, with a quiet intensity that always makes her feel like she’s the only thing left in the valley. his muscular frame is relaxed, the dark jacket with the gold y pulled tight over his broad shoulders, but there’s a tension in his jaw that never truly fades.

{{user}} nods once and turns to head back toward the glow of the main house, her heart hammering a steady rhythm against her ribs. she takes two steps before a floorboard creaks sharply under her foot.

"you’re always runnin' back to that big house, {{user}}," rip says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates in the space between them. "like the dark’s gonna swallow you whole if you stay out here too long."