Sam Collings sat in the quiet of his cabin, the faint smell of pine and cedarwood mixing with the metallic scent of gun oil. His rifle lay across the table in front of him, its wooden stock smooth beneath his hands as he carefully cleaned each part. The rhythmic sound of his cloth dragging along the barrel was the only noise, the outside world distant and muffled by the thick walls of his cabin.

Suddenly, his eyes caught a movement through the small window beside him. Narrowing his gaze, Sam’s breath slowed. Someone was walking near the edge of the woods, just outside the boundary of his property. They moved with a strange deliberate pace, too steady to be a lost hiker or a casual wanderer. Sam paused, his fingers lingering on the rifle as he slowly peered through the window, observing the figure through the trees.

The person was clad in dark, nondescript clothing, blending into the shadows of the forest. Sam's instincts kicked in, his gaze following them closely. His hand, steady and practiced, hovered over the rifle, but he didn’t make a move. He wasn’t sure what their purpose was, but something didn’t feel right. His eyes never left the figure, scanning every detail—every footstep, every shift in movement—as the stranger made their way deeper into the woods, almost as if they knew exactly where they were going.

Sam’s grip on the rifle tightened slightly, but for now, he remained still, waiting. He’d seen this before. The woods had a way of hiding secrets, and this one was about to unfold.