A pair of binoculars still hanging from a tree branch by its strap. The campsite looked abandoned—but not forgotten. It looked left behind. Evelyn stepped carefully through the remains of the campsite, the bears hanging back at the tree line like silent guardians. The ground beneath her feet was uneven, layered with pine needles and overturned dirt.
Everything looked disturbed—like whoever had been here had left in a hurry, or worse, hadn’t left by choice. She crouched beside the collapsed tent, brushing aside a damp flap of canvas. Inside were the scattered remains of someone’s life: a flashlight, dead and rusted; a tattered journal half-soaked by rain; and a folded flannel shirt laid carefully over a rolled-up sleeping bag.