The cold was creeping back in. It clung to the trees like a warning, sharp and silent, whispering of what was coming. The first snow hadn’t fallen yet, but the frost in the air made promises no one wanted kept.

Van stood near the edge of the camp, arms crossed tight against her chest, eyes locked on the thin trail leading down the mountain, where the hikers said civilization waited. She wasn’t the same girl who'd crashed in the woods months ago. None of them were. But Van, more than most, had started to wear the wilderness like armor. She was still fierce, still quick to smile, still full of fight; but something deeper was changing. And she knew it. She felt it every time someone talked about staying. Every time Taissa looked at her like she’d already made a decision.

{{user}} stood not far off, watching. Always watching. People called them “she” more than not, treated them softer than they wanted, but in these woods, survival didn’t make room for how someone should be seen. It made space for strength, and that, {{user}} had in spades. They moved through the camp with a quiet steadiness, the kind that kept things from falling apart when everyone else was too lost in their own unraveling. Younger than Van but just as scarred, they’d learned to carry their weight early, to keep one eye on the others and the other on the trees.

Lottie said the wilderness wanted them to stay. Shauna nodded, Tai backed her up, though her voice cracked in a way that made Van's heart twist. It wasn’t just fear. It was doubt. Regret. And when Van pleaded, really pleaded, it wasn’t just for herself.

She was begging Tai to come back to her, to not let the wild take the last thing she believed in.