"Freedom is what we do with what is done to us."

  — Jean-Paul Sartre

  The Nebraska countryside was dead quiet, blanketed in a thick layer of snow that stretched out in every direction. Trees stood tall and bare, stripped by winter, their branches dusted in white. Every now and then, a gust of wind rushed through, shaking loose clumps of snow that tumbled to the ground in soft flurries.

  It was cold—really cold. The kind that stung your fingers even through gloves and made every breath feel like ice. But the doe didn’t seem to mind. It moved through the woods carefully, ears twitching, its hooves making light crunches in the snow. It stopped at a low bush, chewing lazily on a frost-covered twig.

  Ellie stood just a few yards away, half-hidden behind a tree, her bow raised and ready. Her breath fogged the air in front of her as she slowly pulled back the string. The compound bow sat steady in her hands, a broadhead arrow notched and waiting.

  James had found the bows a couple weeks ago—somehow. She still didn’t know how he always lucked out with gear, but Joel had taken one look and decided it was time they both learned to hunt properly.

  Now it was their first time out on their own. No Joel. No backup.

  Just them.

  Ellie’s posture was solid. Her breath was quiet. She was locked in. Ready.

  “ACHOO!”

  The sneeze ripped through the still air like a car horn.

  Ellie flinched. The doe’s head shot up, and before she could react, it bolted into the trees.

  In a panic, Ellie released the arrow. It zipped into the woods—completely missing.

  The clearing was suddenly empty. The deer was gone.

  Ellie just stood there for a second, staring at where it had been. Then she slowly turned toward James, her face already twisted in frustration.

  “What the fuck, James!?” she raged.

  The boy looked embarrassed, “It’s cold out! I can’t help it!”

  “You couldn’t have held it in?!” Ellie hissed, her voice sharp enough to slice through the cold air. She lowered the bow with shaking hands, frustration radiating off her like heat. “All I needed was a couple more seconds!”

  James, standing a few feet behind her, shoulders hunched in a puffed-up coat and scarf that barely covered his nose, blinked at her with wide, slightly guilty eyes.

  “What do you want me to do—sneeze silently?” he shot back, rubbing at his face. “You ever try holding one of those in? I think my lungs would’ve exploded.”

  Ellie’s jaw clenched as she turned fully to face him. “Well maybe next time explode after I get us dinner! That shot was perfect!”

  James raised an eyebrow, glancing at the tree far behind where the deer had once been. “You sure? Pretty sure that tree back there would say otherwise.”

  Her hands clenched around the bowstring. “Because you sneezed in the middle of my shot!”

  “Technically,” James said, voice maddeningly calm, “I sneezed before the shot. So really, you panicked.”

  “James…” Ellie warned, her voice low and teeth gritted.

  James hesitated. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he was smart enough to dial it back just a hair.

  “Alright, okay,” he said, lifting his hands in a half-surrender. “My bad. It’s just—damn cold. My nose betrayed me.”

  Ellie stared at him for a beat longer, then turned away with a muttered curse under her breath. She kicked at a patch of snow, her boot crunching against the frozen ground.

  “We needed that deer,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Joel was counting on us not to screw this up.”

  James’s smile faded slightly. “I know,” he said. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll… I don’t know, find a turkey or something. Nebraska’s got turkeys, right?”

  Ellie shot him a dry look over her shoulder. “You find a turkey out here, I’ll start calling you the Chosen One.”

  James grinned, despite himself. “Deal.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft wind rustling through the bare branches. The snow that had settled on James’s hat began to slide down the back of his neck, and he shivered violently.

  Ellie sighed.

  “Alright. Come on, Sneezy. Let’s track it. Maybe I scared it in a circle.”

  The duo took off into the snowy Nebraskan country.

  .-.-.-.-.

  James sighed, breath curling in the cold air.

  They’d lost the damn deer.

  After hours of tracking it through snow-covered brush, careful steps and quiet signals, the trail had gone cold. Just vanished into the woods like it had never been there. Now they were on their way back to camp, boots dragging slightly with each step, both of them silently hoping another unlucky animal might stumble across their path before nightfall.

  They stuck to the road—it was safer now that dusk was creeping in. Neither of them liked the idea of stumbling through the forest in the dark, not with visibility dropping and shadows stretching longer by the minute.

  The road itself was buried under snow, but still visible—an open strip cutting through the white where trees no longer dared to grow. The powder was maybe a foot deep, soft and dry underfoot, making each step easier than they expected. Their boots left clean prints behind them, quickly fading in the slow drift of wind.

  They were rounding a bend, trudging uphill, when James spotted it.

  A gas station—half-buried in snow, hunched against the landscape like it had been dozing there for decades. The roof had partially collapsed, bowing in on itself under the weight of time and snow. Its once-bright sign, sun-bleached and rusted, still clung to the frame overhead, the letters spelling out a crooked “QuickStop.” A few had fallen. The ones that remained looked like they were barely hanging on.

  James stepped in front of Ellie, drawing his pistol out of habit. He grinned, that flicker of energy returning to his face.

  “Oh! A gas station,” he said, voice perked up with cautious excitement. “Maybe there’s some food in there.”

  Ellie rolled her eyes. “You’re not gonna find anything but rats and dust.”

  “Rat on a stick sounds pretty good right now.” he said back, walking up to the door.

  He nudged it open. It creaked loud enough to wake the dead—or at least scare off any nearby wildlife. Inside, the air was thick with dust and mildew. Shelves sat crooked and empty, their contents long since looted or turned to dust. Broken glass crunched under his boots as he stepped inside. The air was frigid and dry, but at least there was no snow or wind.

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  Faded wrappers, torn snack bags, and empty plastic bottles littered the floor. The fridges were broken, their doors hanging open like yawning mouths.

  He moved slowly, eyes scanning every shelf, every dusty aisle. He reached for a pile of collapsed magazines near the back—mostly rotted catalogs and auto brochures, fused together by time and water damage.

  Ellie walked off to check out the counter when he saw it.

  Tucked underneath a warped cardboard box was something slightly better preserved. He pulled it free.

  A glossy magazine with curled edges, its title barely legible: Velvet Nights – June 2004.

  The woman on the cover had long, black hair and piercing green eyes. She leaned against a velvet backdrop, wearing almost nothing, her pose sultry and confident.

  James blinked, feeling heat creep up his neck.

  He looked around instinctively, like someone might catch him.

  His heart thumped a little faster.

  He’d never seen anything like it in real life.

  All those years in a hospital—he’d had nurses, doctors, orderlies… but nothing like this. His only exposure to anything remotely sexual had come through the blurry channels on hospital TVs when no one was watching, or through stolen glimpses of romance scenes in late-night movies. His grandpa had somehow blocked all of it on his xbox as well so he couldn’t even watch it through there. A truly cruel move he might add.

  But here it was.

  Right in front of him.

  He carefully opened it, thumbing through the pages with wide eyes, brain scrambling at the sheer amount of bare skin. His face turned redder by the second.

  “What do we have here?”

  James jumped, letting out a yelp as he nearly dropped the magazine. He spun around to see Ellie standing at the doorway, hands on her hips, grinning.

  “N-Nothing!” he stammered, trying to shove the magazine behind his back.

  Ellie’s eyes narrowed. She stepped closer. “James… are you blushing?”

  “I’m not—It’s not what it looks like!”

  Ellie darted forward and snatched the magazine from behind him before he could stop her. She flipped it open, raised an eyebrow, then grinned.

  “Ohhh no… this is exactly what it looks like.” She held up the cover. “Velvet Nights? Really?”

  James grabbed for it, but she stepped back, laughing.

  “I just—I found it! I wasn’t—I wasn’t looking for it on purpose!” His voice cracked slightly. “I was just… scavenging!”

  Ellie howled. “Dude, you look like you’re about to combust. It’s just boobs!”

  “I wasn’t—! I was just—studying the composition!” he blurted before realizing what he said.

  Her laughter doubled, “Studying?! What, you writing a thesis?!”

  James flushed deep red, storming past her toward the exit. “You’re the worst,” he muttered.

  She called after him between chuckles. “Studying the composition! Oh man, that’s going in the books.”

  Eventually, Ellie’s laughter faded into a soft chuckle, her breath visible in the cold air as the quiet of the store settled around her again. She wiped her eyes, still grinning to herself as she lifted up the magazine.

  She flipped through a few more pages—equal parts amused and curious. Some were torn, others worn thin with water damage and age, but most of the images had survived. The women stared back with posed smiles and flawless hair, bathed in the kind of studio lighting that felt almost surreal. It was glossy, polished, and distant—like it belonged to another lifetime. Another world.

  Then she stopped.

  There she was again—the same woman from the cover. Dark hair, glowing skin, eyes half-lidded in that perfect, practiced way. Her body angled just so, lips parted, like she had the whole thing down to a science.

  Her face flushed—suddenly, uncomfortably warm despite the chill around her.

  She quickly looked around. James was gone, probably pouting outside.

  The store was empty. Just her, a bunch of junk, and the magazine in her hands.

  She lingered a moment longer on the photo, then exhaled.

  “…Damn.”

  Another glance around—still alone.

  She hesitated for a beat longer, then folded the magazine in half and quietly slid it into her backpack. No one needed to know. Not Joel. Definitely not James.

  She speed-walked out of the store awkwardly, her face still warm with embarrassment. The cold air hit her like a slap, but it did little to cool the flush in her cheeks.

  She spotted James right away—but something was off.

  He wasn’t moving. Just standing there, still as stone, eyes locked on something in the distance.

  Ellie’s gaze followed his—and she froze.

  A man stood at the edge of the treeline, half-shrouded in shadow. A rifle hung loosely in his hands. He wasn’t moving either—just staring.

  Her body tensed instinctively, all traces of awkwardness vanishing in an instant.

  The stranger was wrapped in heavy winter gear, a thick parka dusted with snow. From beneath the hood, she could just make out pale skin and the coarse outline of a salt-and-pepper beard that looked like it hadn’t been trimmed in years.

  James had his pistol out, held low but ready. The man had his rifle, too—gripped casually, but not raised. It wasn’t a standoff… not yet.

  Ellie’s hand drifted toward her bow, fingers brushing the string across her chest. Should she draw it? Was that too much? Would it send the wrong message?

  She hesitated, heart pounding.

  Then, slowly, the man began to step backward. One step. Two. Still watching them.

  Then he turned, disappeared into the treeline, and was gone.

  Just like that.

  The woods swallowed him whole.

  James and Ellie stood there for another minute, tensely watching the spot he disappeared from.

  Eventually, James exhaled, a rare serious expression sat on his face. “...Let’s get back, we need to tell Joel about this.”

  Ellie nodded, and they hastily began walking back to camp.

  .-.-.-.-.

  They made it back to camp just before the sun dipped over the horizon, casting the snow-covered forest in deep blue shadow. The cold bit harder now, and their breaths came in thick clouds as they moved fast through the trees, boots crunching over hardened ice.

  James said nothing. Neither did Ellie.

  Joel was crouched near the fire pit when they arrived, stacking dry sticks in a careful pattern. His rifle was slung across his back, and his head snapped up the second he heard their footsteps.

  He stood immediately, eyes scanning them both. “You’re late,” he said, voice low and guarded. “Thought you’d be back over an hour ago.”

  “We saw someone,” Ellie blurted, before James could speak.

  Joel’s posture changed in an instant. No visible panic—but something in him locked in tight. He took a step forward.

  “Who?” he asked, already reaching for the rifle on his back.

  James shook his head. “We don’t know. Just… some guy. Winter gear. Rifle. He didn’t say anything, didn’t point the gun. Just watched us.”

  “Where?” Joel’s voice was calm, but something dark flickered in his eyes.

  “Edge of the forest. By that old gas station off the bend in the road. He backed off after a minute—didn’t follow us.”

  Joel’s jaw clenched. “He see your faces?”

  Ellie nodded. “Pretty sure. He was real close. Just... didn’t do anything.”

  Joel was already moving, checking the magazine in his rifle, then walking over to the tree where his pack hung. He grabbed it and slung it over one shoulder.

  “Grab your gear,” he said. “We’re not staying here tonight.”

  “What?” James asked, confused. “But it’s almost dark—”

  Joel turned to him. “You get spotted in the wild by someone with a rifle, you don’t wait around to see if they come back with friends.”

  Ellie was already packing up. “You think he’s a scout?”

  Joel started putting out the fire, “Better not to risk it. There's a frozen river close by we can travel on, we won't leave any footprints behind on it.”

  James just sighed, wanting nothing more than to eat and collapse into sleep—but he knew better. Joel was right.

  “I’ll grab the rifles,” he muttered, heading toward the tree where they’d stashed their gear.

  Ellie was already rolling up the sleeping bags and tents, shoving them into her pack with the practiced speed of someone who’d done this a hundred times.

  Joel, crouched at the fire pit, scattered the remaining coals with a stick, grinding the embers into the dirt until the warmth disappeared completely. The soft hiss of fading heat was the only sound for a few long seconds.

  “River’s about half a mile north-east,” he said, standing and swinging his pack over one shoulder. “We stick to the ice for a while—take a detour. Should throw off anyone trying to track us.”

  Ellie slung her bow over her shoulder. “Think he’ll come looking?”

  Joel didn’t answer right away. He looked out into the darkening woods, his eyes scanning the treeline like they might catch a flicker of movement.

  “I think if he was alone, we might be fine,” he said quietly. “But people don’t just stand and stare like that unless they’re weighing something.”

  James returned with the weapons. “Like what?”

  Joel looked at him, jaw tense.

  “Like whether we’re worth the trouble.”

  That silenced them both.

  The air felt colder now, the sky shifting from blue to deep gray. The trees loomed taller somehow, and every gust of wind felt like it carried watching eyes.

  Joel nodded toward the west. “Let’s move.”

  And without another word, they disappeared into the woods—three shadows slipping toward the river, leaving their camp cold and empty behind them.