Claire was halfway back to the house when she realized she'd missed something.
She stopped on the trail, the two escort wolves already disappeared into the timber, the afternoon light starting its early October fade. Something about the den. Something about the way her father's camping equipment had been arranged. The sleeping bag rolled neatly. The cookpot stacked with the water bottle. Everything organized, deliberate.
The notebook had been beside them, but not with them. Placed separately. As if it were different. As if it weren't part of the camp but something else.
As if there might be more.
Claire turned around.
---
The wolves didn't reappear as she climbed back up the trail. She was alone this time, moving quickly despite the altitude, driven by the certainty that she'd left t
