Page 106 of Silent Shadows

The crew breaks out into their usual roles. Taylor and Jax move farther ahead with drone equipment. Maya stops periodically to mark coordinates and environmental changes. And Miles stays near me without making it obvious.

The trail narrows as we descend into a damp canyon wash where runoff still darkens the earth beneath our boots.

Then Jax stops abruptly. “Whoa.”

The word echoes softly through the trees.

Every single person freezes.

Miles moves first. Always first.

“What is it?”

Jax crouches slowly near the edge of the wash, camera lowering toward the mud. And even from ten feet away, my stomach drops.

“Oh my God.”

The track presses deep into the earth beside the waterline.

Huge. Human-shaped. And yet, not human.

Every rational thought in my brain starts scrambling for explanations. Bear. Distortion from rain. Prank from the Ridgefield guys. Just a dude with really, really huge feet.

I chuckle at that last one.

But the longer I stare at it, the harder it becomes to force the shape into something logical. The proportions are off. Too wide through the center. Long toe impressions. Deep heel compression, as if whatever made it carried impossible weight.

Nobody speaks. Stunned silence settles over the canyon. Miles crouches beside the print.

His hands are shaking.

Actually shaking.

“Miles,” Maya says breathlessly.

He doesn’t answer at first. He just stares at the track like he’s afraid it might disappear if he blinks.

Then: “I know.”

The words crack slightly on the way out.

And suddenly this stops feeling theoretical.

Because this isn’t some loud internet conspiracy guy celebrating being right.

This is a person who, after carrying belief so long it became part of his bones, finally sees something that tells him maybe his belief wasn’t foolish. The relief I feel for him is overwhelming.

Taylor wipes at her eyes. “Okay, rude. I didn’t expect to get emotional over a foot.”

Jax is already filming, movements sharper now with adrenaline.

Maya kneels beside the print with measuring tools and a camera.

“Eighteen inches,” she whispers.

Miles stands abruptly.

“Wait.”