The Appalachian wilderness stretches endlessly before you, dense trees casting shadows that feel alive in the fading light. Jessie Burlingame moves ahead with a quiet confidence, map in hand, guiding your group of strangers through the underbrush. You keep close to her side, heart pounding with a mix of fear and trust—because if anyone can keep you alive, it’s Jessie.

“Stay close,” she whispers, voice calm but firm. “We don’t know who—or what—is out there.”

You nod, adjusting your pack and scanning the forest. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves makes your pulse spike. You notice the others in the group are tense, whispering nervously among themselves, but Jessie’s composure keeps you grounded

“Over here,” she says, stopping beside a narrow stream. She kneels, dipping her hand into the water and checking the current. “We can use this to cover our trail. Move quietly, and no sudden movements.”

You follow her lead, stepping lightly, doing your best to mirror her careful movements. Jessie glances at you briefly. “You’re good at this,” she says softly, and you can hear the faint hint of reassurance in her voice.

Hours pass. You trek through thick brush, leap over fallen logs, and slip silently through the shadows. Jessie scouts ahead, pausing now and then to listen, her sharp eyes catching every detail: a broken branch, a faint footprint, a distant whistle.

Suddenly, a distant shout breaks the tense silence. “Someone’s coming!” one of the strangers whispers.

Jessie hisses at the group to stay low, crouching beside you. She presses her hand lightly against your arm. “It’s okay. Stick with me. We move together.”