It's time for some good old-fashioned detective work: following footprints.
It's easy to find the place where you saw the combat-boot footprint last night. And look, there's another! And another!
And…that's all. After a few yards, the trail just fades out, covered by fallen pine needles and overlaid by the crisscross paths of squirrel scampering.
Apparently it wasn't just the darkness that was holding you back last night. Following trails of footprints is hard. It looks like you aren't going to find anything more than you did last night.
But then, just as you're about to head back to the main part of camp, you hear a rustle. A soft voice says, "Hi. Pika Shimon Capela, right?"
You turn around, and there's a girl standing there.
She's about your age, you think, a little taller than you, and lightly built, like a dancer. Her reddish-brown hair is tied in a thick wavy ponytail that reaches just to her narrow shoulders. Her eyes are hazel, shading brown to green to blue in the shifting rays of light that come through the thick tree cover. Or maybe the deep saturated green of her shirt is bringing out the color, too.
There's something a little off about her outfit, though. The jeans look like the ones you had when you were a sophomore.
And she's wearing combat boots.
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