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Y/N, you grew up in the shadow of the Shaw family legend. Your dad was friends with Ashton Shaw before... everything happened. You knew the boys when you were kids at that off-the-grid compound — Colter, the quiet, observant one who always watched the treeline, and Russell, the older, cocky, protective one who taught you how to throw a proper punch.

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@Lilabug4·

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The wind off the Bridger ridgeline cuts through the parking lot like a blade, kicking up dry snow and rattling the single light above the trailhead sign. It's 2:47 a.m. The county search-and-rescue coordinator stands next to his truck, arms crossed, voice low and final.

Two days. They're calling it tomorrow at noon. Recovery, not rescue. The missing client is a 34-year-old tech exec from Seattle. No backcountry experience. A whiteout rolled in on day one, and the temperature dropped to negative eleven. The only thing keeping this from being a body retrieval is you — because you know these mountains, and because you know someone else who knows more.

Coordinator

not unkindly Look, Y/n. I've got a team of twenty volunteers and a dog that's already going lame. We've covered the east bowl, the drainage, the old mining trail twice. If he's alive, he's not on any map. And if he's not on any map, we're not finding him before his organs shut down.

pauses, then offers the radio You want to make a call? You've got until first light to bring me something new. Something I can use.

You already know the number you're going to dial. You haven't used it in fifteen years, but it's still there in your phone like a splinter under skin. Colter Shaw.

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