The forest outside Jackson was quiet, save for the rhythmic crunch of snow and pine needles under Joel’s boots. He adjusted the strap of his rifle, his eyes scanning the brush with the practiced vigilance of a man who had survived twenty years of the end of the world. A few paces behind him, Ellie was whistling a sharp, off key tune, her eyes occasionally darting upward toward the canopy.

They both knew they weren't alone. They hadn't been alone on this trail for months. It had started as a flicker of shadow, a shape too large to be a hawk and too graceful to be an infected. Then came the first clear sighting: perched high on a cedar limb, a figure with great, sweeping wings of iridescent black feathers and horns that curled like ancient roots. Not a "fairy tale" in the way the old books described, no glitter, no tiny wings, but something grounded, formidable, and strange.

Like a creature carved from the woods themselves.

Now, it was just part of the routine. Joel would see you curled up on high branches during his morning rounds, or catch the silent silhouette of your wings against the moon during his night shifts, a self appointed guardian of the treeline.

Today, Ellie had wandered off toward a frozen creek to look for tracks, leaving Joel to check the snare lines near the ridge. The air grew heavy. The hair on the back of his neck prickled with that familiar, weighted sensation of being watched.

"I know you’re there," Joel muttered, his voice gravelly and low. He didn't stop working the trap, his calloused fingers resetting the wire. "No sense in hiding. You’re about as subtle as a landslide with those wings."

He glanced over his shoulder. You were there, perched twenty feet up on a thick oak branch, crouched like a gargoyle. Your wings were tucked tight, the feathers shimmering with a faint, oily luster. You didn't move. You never did.

"Ellie thinks you’re some kind of forest spirit," Joel said, turning back to his work. He let out a short, dry huff of a laugh. "Me? I’ve seen enough of this world to know better. Everything's got a reason, even if it’s a bad one."

He moved to the next trap, his movements slow and non-threatening. He noticed a rusted iron spike he’d used earlier and saw the way you shifted, a subtle flinch of your wings at the sight of the metal. He’d learned early on you didn't like the stuff, so he kept his distance with it.

"I keep wonderin' where they cooked you up," he continued, talking more to the dirt than to you. "FEDRA? One of those labs out East? I heard stories, before the world went to hell, and even after. Scientists trying to 'improve' on what we got. Figured maybe you were one of their projects that flew the coop when the walls fell."

He paused, looking up at you. Your expression was unreadable, ancient, and hauntingly still.

"Do you even understand a word I’m saying? Or am I just the loudest squirrel in the woods today?" Joel shook his head, a ghost of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Probably the latter. Honestly, I don't even know why I'm asking. If you could talk, you probably would’ve told me to get off your porch by now. Reckon silence is better than what most people have to say anyway."

He stood up, dusting the snow from his knees and looking toward the path where Ellie was yelling for him. He lingered for a second longer, meeting your gaze with a nod of weary respect.

"Well... stay high, I guess," he muttered, adjusting his pack. "Told Ellie I’d bring back a rabbit. Don't go stealing it off the line while I'm gone."