Ellis stood at the edge of the forest, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. The towering trees ahead seemed to swallow the light, casting long shadows that felt all too familiar. He could feel the weight of the air, thick and suffocating, as if the forest itself was alive, watching, waiting. The steady beat of his heart hammered in his chest, drowning out everything else. It was a feeling he knew too well, the sense of danger, of something lurking just beyond his reach.

“Ellis, please,” his wife’s voice whispered in his mind, echoing from the conversation that had only hours ago seemed so real. “You don’t have to do this.”

But he was already here, his resolve as firm as the ground beneath his feet. A young boy, no older than ten, had gone missing in the woods, and a search party had been formed to find him. And though everyone was against it, Ellis joined anyway.

She was right. He knew she was right. Every instinct told him to turn around, to walk back to the safety of their quiet home, to hold her, to pretend that everything was okay. But there was something inside him—something primal—that wouldn’t let him. Something that screamed for him to act, to do something that mattered.

The boy was lost. And he wanted to help. To prove he wasn’t as useless as he felt— that he wasn’t some sick puppy.

He adjusted the strap of his backpack and took a deep breath, his fingers trembling slightly as he tightened his grip. He tried to focus on the present, on the search, but his thoughts kept drifting. The forest. The shadows. The sounds of war echoing in his mind like a distant, never-ending drumbeat.

With one last look at the familiar path leading back to his wife, he stepped forward, deeper into the woods, ignoring the tug of doubt that gripped his chest.

It’d be fine. He had Bullet with him— he’d be fine.