I've been hunkered down in my shelter since I returned home. I have my gun beside me, ready to go as I sit at the table and eat dinner. To keep myself busy, I made dinner in here and a makeshift nut and rhubarb hash fried in Crisco oil. It turned out pretty good. The new nuts I found in the deep woods are similar to the black walnuts around my camp but a little butterier in flavor and much easier to crack.

It's too warm as it can quickly get in this tiny cabin, and I pull my sweatshirt off. I've been learning to keep my fire small, but I had a bigger one so I could make dinner on it tonight. I close the door to the little wood burner. It should die down soon.

I'm annoyed that I can't go outside because I fear who may be out there. I don't have very many pleasures out here, and one of them is my nights at my outdoor fire. Right after dinner, I sit out there, watching the sun dissolve into pretty reds and oranges as it sets beyond the trees. I then sit and enjoy that dusky but not yet dark part of the evening. In that moment, everything I could do that day is done, and I relax before turning for the night. It's like a reward – that moment.

I don't like it being taken from me. I have lost enough, sacrificed enough. Anger and irritation are outgrowing my fears quickly. I stand and stretch, pulling my hair up and off my sweaty neck and securing it in a loose ponytail as I cross over to the window. 

"It could all be in my imagination," I tell myself. "Even the footprint that could be anything, including mine."

I felt it so clearly, though, that instinct that someone was here. My gut is the one thing I have out here, and I need to find a way to trust it. That's easier said than done, though. Every choice I make could end in disaster if it's wrong. Second-guessing myself is impossible to avoid at this point.

A need to pee forces me outside, and I step out—the air, which is growing colder and windier, chills me instantly. I scowl, seeing I missed the sunset, and it's just becoming dusk. My outdoor fire is dying, and I make a mental note to add a log after I use the outhouse.

With my gun tucked firmly under my arm, I nearly run across my small clearing to the outhouse.  I don't bother to light the lantern this time, opting to be fast about it.

As I step back out, I catch a whiff of smoke when the wind picks up from the southeast. I sniff the air and furrow my eyebrows at the smoke.

Smoke from a campfire, and mine is nearly dead, it's not from my fire. My gut was right; someone else is out here, and that smoke proves it.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I walk a little closer to it and the woods, not too far, though, so I can race back to my cabin if need be. It's hard to tell where it's coming from, but it seems to be coming from those deep woods I was in earlier.

A strong wind nearly rips through me, and my skin erupts in goosebumps. I scurry back into my cabin, my heart racing as I slam the door behind me. I am relieved by the toasty cabin, which warms me instantly, but the warmth does nothing for my fear.

I take the giant two-by-four board and slide it over the big door. They built the door handle so this board can fit inside or outside to lock it shut. I assume it's to keep bears from being able to get in, but it'll keep people out, too. That is a relief for tonight.

Even though the direction of the fire is far from here, and it's dark, I can't help my paranoia.

Could it be those men?

"That doesn't make sense," I say out loud as I begin pacing. I'm as guarded as I was on night one. Only now, it's a much different type of threat.

"They'd have come from the same direction as me, right?"

It was off-road where Dad dropped me off, but that's probably the only path into these woods. So if those men found me here, they'd have taken the same path as me, and I'd have heard them before now.

Right? Unless they are very smart and stealthy.

"But I'm just a teenage girl; they'd have come and grabbed me."

They wouldn't set up a camp, and definitely not one so far from me. They'd kidnap me and get the hell out of here.

"Whoever it is was already here," I conclude.

I sensed that someone had been watching me before I went chasing after that deer near the creek. Or was it a deer? I saw brown and assumed, but I didn't get an actual look at it.

Was it a person? The shoe mark, was that from them?

I start slowly nodding my head, as this does make sense. I was likely somewhere near their camp if that was indeed a footprint I saw. Is it one person or multiple persons?

If they came over here, it was to find my camp. Was it out of curiosity, or did they intend to harm me? I can't forget anyone living out here is most likely from an old crime family or connected to them.

Finding my camp would be easy, especially for someone who knows these woods. I'm so close to the game trail and the water hole.

This place is no longer safe.

"Damn it."

I've just started to establish a home here in this cabin. Am I any safer if I move, though?

I've walked this area a lot looking for wood and haven't found any other shacks. My dad had said that Franky mentioned multiple shacks out here, though, and he said they were near the creek.

So where are they?

On the other side of the creek, that's got to be where. I've seen the giant trees; maybe there's more food on that side?

Even if not, I need to move. I don't know if I'm safe over there either, but I'll feel safer with that creek between me and where I am guessing the other camp might be.

Of course, there could be people on the other side, too... I could even be wrong about where I saw the smoke coming from.

The answers aren't coming tonight. I know that much, so I crawl into bed for a restless night.

***

I wake very early; it's still dark when I'm hustling towards the creek I didn't even have breakfast, wanting to hurry and make plans, before the stranger makes theirs. All I brought with me is my gun and a flashlight. Finding where to cross is my first priority, and then I'll return and get my stuff.

I'm glad I have the sled, and I hope it floats because that's my plan. I'll look for the shortest and shallowest spot; I'll walk and pull my sled, with my stuff on it, across. I may need to make two trips, and I am really worried about dunking everything I own into the water.

It'll be a cold and long morning, and I hope whoever is out here doesn't come up on me while I do all this. I hope it's not multiple people, but I don't know anything, and that sucks as my mind keeps filling in the blanks with the scariest ideas.

As I pass the little water hole, the world is so quiet this early. The sky is starting to lighten as the sun finally peeps up. I wish I wasn't on a mission. I'd sit and watch the woods come to life.

As I grow closer to where I usually fish, I stop. There's a long stick lying on the ground that was not here yesterday. I pick it up and see a pointed edge that's full of mud.

After seeing the smoke last night, I don't need any more proof somewhere else is out there, but if I did, this is it. This was carved to this point, and if it's all dirty like this, it was dragged in the mud.

Chills are forming over my neck as I look around me. I don't see or sense anyone, but still, I tread forward on shaky legs, where the mud nearest to the cliff's edge is disturbed.

The words, do not cross, are written crudely in the mud.

What?

"Why?" I ask out loud as if the mystery stranger would tell me or something.

I scan the forest but see nothing besides the usual critters and rustling leaves. I need more information but don't know how to get it. I take the stick and write why with a question mark.

Will they see it and answer me? Do I even trust the answer if they do? I don't know, but it's all I can think of.

There doesn't appear to be a spot, at least from where I can see, that I can walk across this anyway. The best point to cross is the spot where I have been fishing and swimming, but that's not shallow water. I'd have to swim it, and that's a long way to go in this cold. It would be risky, very risky.

For now, I decide to heed the warning, but I need more information. I head back to my cabin to think. 

***

I eat a handful of very bitter crap apples as I sit at my table, thoughts circling my brain like sharks. 

I need to know who is out here and why they wrote that. If I can assure myself it's not those men I'm hiding from...at least I won't be out here on pins and needles waiting to find out. I am pretty sure it isn't them, but that doesn't mean whoever is here is safe.

"But that was a warning, right?"

I could go back later and see if they wrote anything back...  

But what if it wasn't a warning at all?  What if they told me not to cross because they want the walnuts over there? If that's the case and I go over there anyway, would they get mad? Or what if I'm wrong and if it is those men? Maybe they're messing with me. 

"Sammy, you have to stop!" I tell myself. 

I can't spend every day scared and unaware; I just can't. My brain is going to explode at this point. I step outside, refusing to let my fears keep me from enjoying the little outdoor time I have left. 

I need to find them, figure out who they are, and why they're here. I have to take control of this. I can't sit locked in all day or swim across the creek, risking my life with so little information. The simple solution is to head towards those deep woods and find them, confront it head on. 

That plan is risky; all I'll have is my gun, and they'll likely see me coming. Am I going to confront them?

No, that's just stupid. I need to know more first.

If I can find their camp, I'll know if they were already here or just got here, and then... I don't know. But it'll be easier to approach them once I know that much. If it turns out I'm wrong, and they did just get here, I'll know I need to run and hide fast.

So how do I find their camp without running into them? They were at the creek either last night or this morning. They must go there too for water and fishing; I wonder if they usually hunt near the creek? Those deep woods were quite a ways south of the creek; I wonder why that camp instead of this one? It would be such a long walk to get water.

 This spot is perfect, and so is this little cabin. I don't want to leave it and hope I won't have to.

"Focus Sammy."

Great now I'm scolding myself, I'm losing it already.

How do I skirt past them to scope out their cabin without accidentally running right into them?

If I don't go to the creek and instead travel the long way south through the woods in that direction, that should lessen the chance of running into them. Once I find that area, if I can find a tree safe enough to climb, maybe I can get a view of the shelter. Hopefully, if not, I'll just have to creep around and try and find it on foot; that ups my chances of being spotted a lot. I have always been good at blending into my surroundings and being invisible, and I hope that's true now.

I'll need to be very careful and quiet. This is the most dangerous move I've made yet. Not just the possible confrontation, but there is a huge risk of getting lost in those deep woods, too. 

"What should I do to mark my trail?" I question out loud as my eyes fall to the stick I use to poke around in my fire. I recall the one I'd left by the creek and how it had been whittled to a point. 

I sit down with a knife and begin to whittle as I gather my nerves.