Ayla stood quietly, the letter to Milo still trembling in her hands. Rhett observed her closely and gently reached out, taking her hand to steady it.
Then she picked another journal and it flipped carefully, reading her grandmother's familiar slanted handwriting. Most entries were brief, some written during sleepless nights. But then she turned to a page dated almost twenty years ago.
It was longer. Heavier somehow. She began to read aloud.
"Milo came again today. He never stays long. I think it's the visions, they're getting worse. He says time bends when he sleeps now, that he sees things that haven't happened yet. I don't know what to believe. But he spoke of her again, the girl with the fire in her eyes, the one who walks with wolves. I asked if he meant Ayla, but he only smiled. He said the day she returned to Ashpine, the threads would start to pull. I didn't understand what he meant… but I think he sees more than he's ever told me."
"He's out there," Ayla said softly. "Somewhere. And he knows more than anyone else."
Rhett nodded. "We just need to figure out where he went. And why he hasn't shown up yet."
They started searching again. Ayla opened the old box where the journals had been stored. Beneath the last layer of cloth, she found something wrapped in brown paper, thin and folded. She unwrapped it carefully.
Inside was a stack of old photographs. Most were of her grandmother, smiling in the garden, cooking in the kitchen. But a few caught her attention.
Her breath hitched.
They were photos of her. Not as a child but recent ones.
One showed her walking out of her apartment in Missoula. Another was from the hospital parking lot where she worked. In one, she was sitting on a bench outside a café with a book in her hand.
"These were taken months ago," she whispered.
Rhett stepped beside her and looked over her shoulder. His jaw tightened. "That's not possible. You weren't even in Ashpine then."
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "It means someone's been watching me. Even when I left. Even when I had no idea who I was."
Rhett gently took the photos from her hands and flipped through them. "They weren't taken with a phone. These look like old film. Someone careful. Someone hiding."
"Milo," Ayla breathed. "He's been watching me. Making sure I was safe."
"Or trying to figure out if you were ready," Rhett muttered.
Ayla opened the next journal. Inside, scribbled across one of the back pages, was a map. It looked hand-drawn. At first, it seemed like the outline of Ashpine's forest, but then she noticed small markings of tiny antlers drawn near certain trees. And next to one, the word "Look."
"Is this a trail?" she asked.
Rhett studied it. "If it is, it's not one anyone in Ashpine uses. These are deeper woods far beyond the safe zones."
She folded the page and tucked it into her jacket. "Then we follow it."
They searched the rest of the basement. On the back wall, Rhett found another wooden crate with books and folders. Most were worn and chewed at the corners, but one had been wrapped in cloth. Inside, it was clean, and the pages were newer.
It was filled with letters, many addressed to Ayla.
But they were never sent.
Her hands trembled as she opened the first one.
"Ayla,
I don't know when this will reach you. Maybe it won't. Maybe I'm just writing these for myself, to feel closer to you. But I see you in my dreams. I know you're struggling. I know you're afraid. But you are stronger than anyone knows. And when the time comes, I will be there. Watching. Always."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"He was there," she whispered. "He saw me. He never left me."
Rhett put a hand on her back. "This means we can find him. And maybe he'll finally explain why all this is happening to you."
They climbed back upstairs, the morning sun filtering through the old curtains. Dust floated in the light like slow-falling snow. The house felt heavier now, filled with secrets that had been kept too long.
Ayla moved to the window and pulled the curtain aside.
That's when she felt something sharp and cold in the air. A sensation that crawled down her spine.
Rhett felt it too.
His posture stiffened, and he stepped closer to the window, eyes narrowing, sniffing the air.
"Something's wrong."
Ayla turned to him. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know yet," he muttered. "But we're not alone."
Ayla's heart pounded. "You think it's the Silver Claws?"
Rhett didn't answer right away. His head tilted slightly like he was listening to something only he could hear.
Then he turned to her, voice low. "We need to leave. Now."
"But we haven't found everything—"
"We've found enough. The photos, the map, the letters, they're all pointing to the same person. Milo. And I think... he wants us to find him before they do."
Ayla looked around the house one last time. Her grandmother's spirit lingered here, in every corner, every old book and recipe card. It felt wrong to leave it behind.
But something was shifting outside. Something dark. And Rhett's instincts had never failed her.
She stuffed the journals, letters, and the map into her bag.
"Let's go."
They slipped out the back door and into the trees. Rhett moved quickly, keeping her close, his senses sharp. As they ran, Ayla looked back once, and she could've sworn she saw movement at the edge of the forest.
A shadow watching and waiting.
They didn't stop until they were deep into the woods, far from the house. Rhett finally slowed, pressing a hand to a tree and listening again.
"They were close," he muttered. "Too close."
Ayla caught her breath. "What do we do now?"
He pulled out the folded map. "We follow this. Every mark. Every trail. Milo left us a path. It's time we walk it."