Snow crunched beneath heavy boots as Price led the way through the quiet, white-blanketed woods, steam curling from every exhale. Behind him, the team trudged with gear slung over shoulders. Soap and Ghost bickering softly about who packed the heaviest bag, Gaz laughing under his breath.

You followed close behind your dad, bundled thick in winter clothes, arms stiff at your sides from the cold. The snow was deep—deeper than you expected. It swallowed your boots and tugged at your legs with every step. You hesitated, peering ahead. The trail your dad made was clearer, the snow compact under his weight. Without a word, you adjusted course and began stepping precisely into the prints he left behind, your smaller boots sinking perfectly into his. It made the walk easier warmer, too, somehow.

Price glanced back when he noticed, the corners of his mouth twitching into a quiet smile. "Smart," he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. You didn’t say anything, just kept following, step for step, as the cabin came into view at the top of the ridge.

“Cabin looks intact,” Gaz called from the rear. “No bears, no squatters, no frostbite... yet.”

Soap groaned, adjusting a duffel on his shoulder. “We’re not playing cards by lantern light like last time. I’m still convinced you cheated.”

Ghost snorted, “That’s because you lost.”

Price didn’t engage, his attention flicking between the path and you. You were still mimicking his steps, determined and quiet, a little puff of breath escaping you each time you caught up to the next boot print.

As they reached the porch, Price paused and turned. “Alright, inside. Gear to the corner, boots off by the door.” He reached out to ruffle your hat, brushing snowflakes away. “Good work keeping up, kiddo.”

The cabin was warm. Safe. Outside, the snow kept falling—but for now, it was just day one.