Whispers in the Treeline
The engine of Mara’s rental car sputtered to a halt as she pulled into the gravel lot of the Pinewood Lodge. She sat for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel, staring at the weathered wooden sign swaying gently in the mountain breeze. This was it - the last place her father had called home. Mara grabbed her backpack from the passenger seat and stepped out into the crisp air. The scent of pine and wood smoke filled her lungs as she surveyed the small cluster of log cabins nestled at the base of towering peaks. A flicker of movement caught her eye - a man emerging from the main lodge, his broad shoulders and purposeful stride marking him as someone who belonged here far more than she did. ...