Mainland – First Steps

The boat pulled away behind them, Margot’s figure already disappearing into the pale haze. The narrow beach was choked with deep, untouched snow. Frozen reeds stood brittle along the waterline. The only sounds were the soft crunch of their boots and the low moan of the wind moving through the trees inland.

Sydney adjusted the strap of her pack and checked her weapons with practised efficiency. A recurve bow was slung across her back alongside a quiver of arrows. A well-maintained machete hung at her left hip. On her right thigh sat a Glock 17 in a worn holster, with two extra magazines in a pouch on her belt. She carried herself with the restless energy of someone who had waited too long for this.

Emma carried less flash and more weight. Across her chest, secured in a simple sling, was a Remington 700 bolt-action rifle chambered in .308 Winchester — a reliable, cold-weather hunting rifle scavenged years ago and carefully maintained. A Glock 19 sat on her hip, and a fixed-blade hunting knife rested in a sheath on her opposite side. Her pack held the shared supplies: dried rations, a compact medical kit, extra ammunition, a small oil lamp, waterproof matches, and the carefully folded map with Site B’s coordinates.

They moved off the beach without speaking, climbing a short, snow-covered rise that led into the treeline. The mainland felt immediately different from the island. The air was colder, heavier, and strangely still beneath the wind. Snow clung to every branch. The trees stood close together, their trunks dark against the white.

Sydney walked a few paces ahead, eyes moving constantly.

“Visibility’s better than I expected,” she said after a while, her voice low. “But the ground’s soft under the snow in places. Watch your step.”

Emma followed, rifle held in a comfortable ready position across her body. She watched the younger woman with the quiet attention of a mentor rather than a peer. Sydney was strong, capable, and still too eager — a young rebellious streak that Jennifer had never quite managed to sand down. Emma trusted her. She also knew that eagerness could get them both killed.

They moved deeper into the forest. The snow muffled everything. No birds. No distant animal sounds. Only the wind and the soft compression of their boots. Occasionally they passed the skeletal remains of an old fence line or the collapsed roof of a long-abandoned shed, all half-buried and silent.

The further they walked, the more the atmosphere thickened. The trees grew denser. Light struggled to reach the ground. In the deeper shadows, the snow looked disturbed in irregular patterns — not the clean lines of wind, but uneven scrapes and shallow trenches that made no immediate sense.

Sydney noticed them too.

“Something’s been through here,” she murmured. “Not recently. But not old either.”

Emma nodded once. She did not raise her rifle, but her grip tightened.

They continued in silence for another hour, following the rough bearing toward the old coastal road. The cold seeped steadily through their layers. Every so often the wind would die completely, leaving an oppressive quiet that felt too complete for a living forest.

Late in the afternoon they reached a low ridge. Beyond it the trees thinned slightly, revealing the faint outline of a long-abandoned road buried under snow. In the distance, half-hidden by the treeline, the dark shape of a structure was just visible — possibly an old waystation or storage building.

Sydney slowed.

“There,” she said quietly. “Could be useful for the night if it’s intact.”

Emma studied the structure, then the surrounding trees. The snow around the building looked wrong — more disturbed than the rest of the forest floor, with irregular tracks that disappeared into the denser woods on the far side.

She felt the familiar, quiet tightening in her chest that came with recognising danger before it fully showed itself.

“We approach carefully,” Emma said. “No assumptions.”

Sydney glanced back at her, the rebellious edge in her expression tempered by respect.

“Understood.”

They began the slow descent toward the building as the light started to fade. Behind them, the forest remained still. Ahead, something in the disturbed snow and the waiting dark of the treeline had already noticed their arrival.

The first contact was coming.