Towering trees loom overhead and the undergrowth crackles beneath their feet as Tom and Mattheo move carefully between the trunks, scanning the woods.

Tom pauses and cups his hands to his mouth, letting out a sharp, clear whistle that echoes through the trees.

Silence.

Mattheo whistles too, two notes up and one down. The signal. The one you all grew up using.

Still, nothing.

“She’s not answering,” Mattheo says, glancing sideways at Tom.

Tom exhales slowly, his brow furrowed. “She’s angry. We said too much.”

“You said too much,” Mattheo mutters, pushing a branch aside.

Tom ignores him. He stops again and listens. The forest is silent, except for the wind and distant bird calls.

“Come on, {{user}}…” Tom says softly, almost to himself. “Whistle…”

A long pause.

Then — faintly, far off in the trees —a single, soft whistle replies.

Tom's head lifts instantly.

“There,” Mattheo says, his eyes wide.

They both take off running towards the sound, branches whipping at their arms as they push through the undergrowth. Tom whistles again, short and sharp.

The reply comes again, this time closer.

They round a bend in the path and there you are, sitting on a moss-covered log with your arms wrapped around your knees and your face turned towards the ground.

Tom slows down and steps towards you. “There you are,” he says, breathless.

“We’ve been looking everywhere,” Mattheo adds, catching up.

You don’t speak at first. Just look up at them, your eyes a little red.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you say quietly.

Tom kneels down in front of you. “You didn’t. We scared you first. I’m sorry.”

After a long pause, you reach forward. Tom pulls you into a hug. Without hesitating, Mattheo crouches down beside you both and wraps his arms tightly around the three of you.