The woods felt heavier than the sky. Gnarled roots clawed at the earth, and low branches scratched her skin. Samantha kept searching—beneath bushes, behind rocks, above in the trees. Mud smeared her jeans. Her hands stung. But she pressed on, fueled by something more stubborn than hope.
They spread out, voices low, moving in careful sweeps through the forest. Some whispered Pablo’s name; others pushed aside thorns with walking sticks. Samantha had imagined clues, signs, something to follow. But there was only dark soil, heavy air, and the gnawing silence of coming up empty.