Under the Same Starlight

Mr. Hartley said he would handle the killing himself.

For him, killing wasn’t exactly a big deal. After all, he was legally dead, practically a PTSD-ridden, bipolar madman, and currently NSAA’s top assassin. Aaron "White Wolf" Hartley thought to himself: What a mess. So many bad people hovering around his daughter, as if they were put there just for him to take out one by one and enjoy the process.

It wasn’t actually that complicated. Ever since he had "died" at the hands of his mentor, his wife and daughter had moved from Portland to Dallas, living under assumed identities. His precious daughter, Loretta Hartley—no, she was now Fiona Schneider—along with his former wife, Irene Kravitz, now going by Arlene Schneider, had started a new life under the joint protection of the CIA and FBI. The mother and daughter looked alike—long golden hair, fair skin, freckles, and a smile warm as a hearth fire, enough to thaw the coldest heart.

Aaron rented a bachelor apartment in a building not far from the one they had bought. Whenever he wasn’t on assignment, he would return to Dallas and quietly live there, keeping track of their routines, watching them from a distance through binoculars or just with the naked eye. He wasn’t sure if this was nostalgia or protection, but to Mr. Hartley, it was something he had to do.

Dallas in April had decent weather—about 77°F during the day. A light jacket or a slightly thicker denim coat would do just fine. Throw on a Mavericks or Cowboys cap, and you'd blend right in as a local. Fiona was nine now, in fourth grade, still taking the school bus every day. Today, she wore a Rangers baseball cap, her golden hair tied in a ponytail, swaying as she got on the bus. Mr. Hartley saw clearly through the binoculars—her complexion didn’t look great, and she had heavy dark circles under her eyes. He suspected she was sick, but for a man who couldn’t openly reveal himself, asking Mrs. Schneider directly wasn’t an option. That said, Mr. Hartley had his ways.

Around 10:30 in the morning, Aaron asked his partner, Lemur, to call Fiona’s school office, posing as Mrs. Schneider to check on her health. The teacher who answered the phone didn’t suspect a thing and gave Lemur a detailed rundown—Fiona had been sluggish, yawning endlessly, and occasionally startled as if on edge. A small, frightened, anxious child. When the teacher asked what was wrong, Lemur made up an excuse about nightmares. It wasn’t a great explanation, but it was believable.

Mr. Hartley was grateful for Lemur’s thoroughness and bought her a Starbucks coffee, while complaining, “The coffee in the office break room tastes better than Starbucks. Why do people even drink this dishwater?”

Lemur shrugged. “Holding a Starbucks cup just feels different. Especially when it’s dishwater I don’t have to pay for—it tastes even better.”

Mr. Hartley fully agreed and swore she’d be buying next week.

Lemur, however, was serious when she told him that Fiona’s situation didn’t seem normal. If necessary, she suggested that Mr. Hartley spend more time looking into it.

It seemed Mr. Hartley misunderstood Lemur’s suggestion—he went straight to the intelligence department and squeezed four pinhole cameras and four miniature bugs out of Ladybug.

Ladybug was shocked. She thought Mr. Hartley’s madness was getting worse and quietly reported it to her friend and superior, NSAA Deputy Director Jen Van Limburg, aka “Lady Justice,” suggesting that maybe someone should rein in the White Wolf.

Jen didn’t mind much—her job was external operations, and White Wolf was currently her best asset. A little overreach here and there could be ignored.

Ladybug swore on her life—this was exactly how Theresa had spoiled Crow back in the day.

That afternoon, around 4:00 PM, while Arlene and Fiona were out grocery shopping, Mr. Hartley slipped into their apartment unnoticed. He installed the pinhole cameras in four spots: the smoke detectors in the entryway and living room, Fiona’s bedroom ceiling light, and the edge of the painting in Arlene’s bedroom. He placed the bugs in a few other locations—except the bathroom, of course.

The devices required a battery change every 72 hours, and the wireless transmission speed was slow—but for Mr. Hartley, it was enough.

Along with providing the surveillance gear, Ladybug also set up monitoring software on an agency-issued laptop.

Mr. Hartley noticed that Arlene had a Mac iBook. He regretted not learning more about computers during his Delta Force days. But that was something he could ask Rupert from the tech team to handle. Ever since they had worked together on an assignment in Japan, Rupert had been in awe of White Wolf’s lethal efficiency and sheer madness—so much so that he would do almost anything for him.

Just a quick look. Just a little.

That’s what Mr. Hartley told himself. And he knew Rupert would help.

Once the installation was complete, Mr. Hartley slipped out of the apartment as quietly as he had entered—without a trace.

Life at school was peaceful and joyful. A fourth grader’s biggest worries were either not understanding long division, getting tripped during a race, or figuring out how to squeeze some money out of their parents to buy a Kenye or Snoop Dogg album and poster. That was about it. The kids were growing up, but not enough to start noticing the opposite sex yet, so for now, all their troubles remained innocent.

Arlene, for her part, seemed quite satisfied with life as it was. She had received a sizable compensation check for Aaron’s "death." Smart as she was, she split the money between three banks—JP Morgan Chase, Citibank, and Wells Fargo. Half of it went into fixed term deposits, while the other half was invested in blue-chip bonds from companies like Coca-Cola, Disney, and Procter & Gamble, along with U.S. Treasury bonds. It seemed Arlene had picked up a thing or two during her time as an accountant in Portland. Her financial strategy was solid, even boringly conservative. She figured that the interest earnings, combined with a bit of extra bookkeeping work, would be enough to cover their living expenses.

She also wasn’t in a hurry to find a new boyfriend—not because she didn’t want to, but because Fiona was still struggling to understand why her mother had suddenly moved them away. Fiona needed more of her attention. If they weren’t living in an apartment, Arlene had even considered getting her a small, adorable dog—maybe a Yorkshire Terrier or a Bichon Frise.

All in all, life for the mother and daughter was peaceful and normal. And they shared an unspoken agreement never to mention Aaron.

That night’s dinner was salad, creamy pasta, and baked salmon, with a side of homemade bread pudding. The portions were modest, but the flavours were probably excellent. After dinner, Arlene loaded the dishes and pots into the dishwasher, then sat with Fiona at the dining table, helping her with long-division homework.

By around nine o’clock, Fiona had finally finished her three assignments and asked if they could go outside to look at the stars. Luckily, their apartment complex was relatively high-end, with a garden terrace on the third floor that also had a small outdoor swimming pool. Arlene wasn’t too worried about safety, so she took Fiona downstairs from their fifth-floor unit to the terrace to stargaze.

Dallas wasn’t exactly an ideal place for stargazing—at least not in the city. Streetlights, buildings, and the ever-busy factories created enough light pollution to blot out much of the night sky. If you drove northwest along I-35 for about half an hour, you’d leave the city and suburbs behind, entering vast stretches of desert and small towns. Out there, the open plains stretched endlessly, the stars densely woven across the sky. If the weather was good, you could even see the Milky Way.

Lemur had once gone stargazing with White Wolf in an even more remote place—not in a romantic way. It was just a field survival exercise arranged by the agency’s operations division. The stargazing was incidental.

In April, the easiest constellations to recognize were Cepheus and Draco. Mars, glowing red, and Jupiter, with its pinkish hue, were especially bright.

For Aaron, identifying stars was about navigation—figuring out which direction to move next while sneaking through enemy territory. He couldn’t quite understand why his daughter was so mesmerized by the night sky when he had always taught her to track animal footprints on the ground.

But shifting her gaze from the earth to the heavens wasn’t such a bad thing, was it?

He stood by his window, watching from afar as the mother and daughter focused intently on the stars above. They stayed there until about 9:50 before finally leaving the terrace and returning to their apartment.

Maybe stargazing was the reason Fiona wasn’t getting enough sleep. That’s what Aaron thought as he watched the mother and daughter finish their nightly routines, preparing to turn in. He figured he’d get some early rest too, but just as he was about to, his phone rang.

It was Ladybug.

“White Wolf, we’ve got a situation. Get to HQ.”

About twenty minutes later, Aaron drove to the agency. Ladybug and Rupert were already waiting for him in a small conference room. They simply nodded in greeting, not saying much. Aaron grabbed a chair in the corner and sat down, dozing off—whatever required him to be here at this hour was bound to be urgent, and no matter the situation, conserving energy was always the best strategy.

He had no idea how much time had passed before someone shook him awake. He rubbed his face and saw José and Jen taking their seats. That got his attention. He sat up straight.

José spoke first. “Two hours ago, a four-agent team went missing in the forests east of Vancouver, British Columbia, near a town called Coquitlam. Based on our assessment, they were likely attacked. We won’t know the specifics until we get on-site. We’re classifying this as a Level 3 incident. Ladybug, you’ll lead the team, and White Wolf will be your partner on this rescue mission.”

Aaron asked, “Can I opt out of this one?”

Jen’s gaze sharpened. “Why? Explain.”

Aaron replied, “Anywhere else, no problem. But near Vancouver... I don’t want to run into LT.”

José shook his head. “The chances of that happening are low. According to the latest report from two days ago, LT is still near Owikeno Lake, working in wildlife conservation and forestry patrol. If necessary, you have clearance to neutralize LT to ensure operational security.”

Aaron shrugged and nodded. “Fine. Then no objections. I’ll give it 100%.”

José continued, “The missing team was investigating a suspected Yellow Seal Brotherhood case involving mind control. During their pursuit of the group’s base, they disappeared from our surveillance.”

Ladybug asked, “Was it a full intelligence team or an operational one?”

“Full intelligence team. Their firepower was minimal. Also, technically, they disappeared near the edge of the city, along a forested hiking trail. Based on local intelligence, there have never been reports of supernatural activity in that area before.” José glanced at Ladybug. “The missing agents are Cicada—she was the team leader—along with June Bug, Longhorn Beetle, and Stag Beetle.”

Ladybug muttered, “No surprise there. Cicada is too reckless.” She looked at Jen. “Just me and White Wolf on this?”

“All fully staffed tactical teams are already deployed elsewhere. The only agents available for standby are White Wolf and Lemur.” Jen didn’t even look up as she signed an authorization order and handed it to Ladybug. “Unlimited engagement authority and kill clearance. But remember, this is RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police) jurisdiction—don’t cause too much trouble with them.”

Ladybug took the authorization order, folded it neatly, and tucked it into her shirt pocket. She glanced at White Wolf. “Cover me.”

“You’re the worst student I’ve ever trained,” Aaron replied with a grin. “Because you rely on others too much. You’re the team leader and the primary asset on this op. I’ll watch your back, but don’t expect me to bail you out of trouble.”

José tapped the table. “White Wolf, this isn’t a training exercise. It’s a live mission. If you want to train Ladybug, do it some other time. Not now.”

Aaron nodded. “Understood. I’ll need some extra gear.”

“Anything you want, as long as it’s not a helicopter.”

“Get Ladybug a submachine gun. I need a shotgun, with 50 rounds of 12-gauge buckshot and 50 slugs. Four Claymore mines, 500 grams of C4.” Aaron thought for a moment. “On top of standard gear, I’ll also need extra night vision goggles, spare batteries, a handheld GPS, and cold-weather gear.”

“It’s April,” Ladybug reminded him.

“Which is why, without me looking out for you, you’d freeze to death in the mountains sooner or later.” Aaron smirked. “Vancouver’s average April temperature is below sixty degrees Fahrenheit, and it gets even colder at night.”

José knocked on the table again. “You’re going there to rescue people, not to go on a killing spree.”

“Then don’t send Ladybug with me,” Aaron shot back coldly. “If I were going in solo, I wouldn’t need this much firepower.”

Jen and José exchanged a glance. José shook his head and denied Aaron’s request. “Ladybug has to go with you. White Wolf, Cicada’s team doesn’t know you well, but Ladybug does.”

“Then give me the gear I need and don’t restrict me, if you actually want this mission to succeed.” Aaron spread his hands. “We have no idea what we’re walking into. How many enemies are there? Are they trained? How much firepower do they have? Do they have permanent or semi-permanent fortifications? Are reinforcements on standby? This isn’t a field trip. This is an op.”

José, clearly irritated, said, “Vancouver isn’t a war zone.”

Aaron scoffed and ignored him, turning to Jen instead. “I recall I have the right to refuse any mission below Level 3?”

“You do. You can refuse up to three deployments this year.”

“Then I refuse this one. Lemur sounds like a better fit for what Director José wants—not a lunatic like me, right?”

“Hey, Aaron, quit the tantrum.” Jen’s voice grew sharp. “José didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Fucking bureaucratic idiot.” Aaron fixed his gaze mockingly on Joséph José. “Did you hear that, dumbass? I was talking about you. You sent your poor agents into the field, botched the mission, and now you want to manipulate me into cleaning up your mess—all while quietly covering up your own incompetence. You’re a goddamn moron, just like those clowns in the Army.”

José’s face darkened. He shot up from his chair.

Aaron grinned, flashing his teeth. As if by sleight of hand, a gleaming folding knife suddenly appeared in his palm. “You wanna fight? Or are you just tired of living? Either way, I’ll be happy to oblige.”

“White Wolf!” Jen barked.

Aaron crossed his arms, his gaze still full of chAaronge as he stared down both Jen and the fuming José. “Am I wrong? Why are you restricting me? Why are we tiptoeing around the RCMP? Doesn’t NSAA have kill authorization? Back when Theresa was in charge, I don’t recall her ever putting a leash on the strike teams.”

José stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Jen shot Aaron a furious glare before hurrying after him.

Jen caught up with José outside his office door. He was taking deep, steadying breaths. Once he had calmed down a little, he turned to her and said, “You deal with these lunatics every day…”

“That’s right.” Jen cut him off. “Every single day, I manage these lunatics. I keep them under control. I deploy them. I get them to complete their missions. Joe, you overstepped today. Some of these decisions were supposed to be mine.”

José exhaled sharply. “And what’s your plan? Just tell that kill-happy maniac that a son of a Canadian federal cabinet member is an unofficial affiliate of the Yellow Seal Brotherhood? Only a handful of high-ranking RCMP officers even know about this. And you think he won’t just kill him—”

“From NSAA’s perspective, Aaron wasn’t wrong. And he hasn’t done anything wrong either—”

“Canada is our ally! A close one!” José snapped.

“White Wolf, Ladybug, Cicada—they’re our own people!” Jen’s voice was sharp now. “Joe, you need to understand something. Our existence is about stopping cultists from destroying the world. If you, Taft, and Morgan have all turned spineless over the senator incident, then NSAA has no reason to exist anymore!”

She was angry now, slammed the door with force, sending a thunderous boom echoing down the entire hallway. She outright scolding José. “We take care of our own first—then we talk about allies! To hell with politics! To hell with privileged brats!”

José stared at Jen in shock, as if seeing this side of her for the first time. “Jen, that’s not how the game is played. You need to understand, I have to consider the bigger picture. If this escalates, Ottawa will protest.”

Jen sneered. “Fine. I refuse to send in the strike team. Joe, go figure it out yourself. Let your golden boys handle the mission. My people are under my protection.”

“They’re NSAA personnel!”

“Exactly. And NSAA is not a goddamn tool for your dirty political deals! White Wolf wasn’t wrong about you, José—you’re just a cowardly bureaucrat.”

“Enough! Shut up, both of you!”

Morgan stormed out of his office, livid. “What the hell do you two think NSAA is? We are a United States federal agency! A paramilitary organization! We operate under a chain of command! We follow orders! Get your heads straight!”

“Morgan, do you want our agents to die for some upper-level political trade-off?” Jen glared at him.

“And if you don’t send in White Wolf or Lemur, what then? Are you seriously going to send Ladybug and Mantis alone to rescue them? We’ve already lost four agents. You want to lose two more because of your damn pride?” Morgan shot back, then turned and roared at José. “And you! Since January, we’ve been dealing with Herbert’s betrayal! Four whole months, and your intelligence unit has accomplished nothing! Not a single one of your operations has yielded a positive result, and now you’ve lost a fully staffed intel team on top of that. Do you think NSAA exists to handle diplomatic relations for you? Four months—your department has produced nothing, and now you want to cover up your incompetence by sacrificing four or six people? If you don’t have the guts for this job, then get the hell out!"”

“But the National Security Advisor—”

“Fuck the National Security Advisor! If he has a problem, let him bring me a presidential order. He’s pressuring you because he knows you’re soft! Joe, listen to me carefully—I have a limit to how much of your bullshit I can tolerate. If you keep acting like a damn bitch, I’ll fire you on the spot!”

“Morgan, what the hell? Dragging gender into this?” Jen snapped, clearly unimpressed.

Morgan exhaled sharply. “Fine. My bad, Jen, that wasn’t directed at you—or women in general.” He took a deep breath, and rubbed his temples, as if utterly exasperated by the lunatics and half-mad subordinates under his command. “You’re in charge of this mission. Completely. Joe, you will not interfere. I don’t care what you do privately, but if NSAA suffers losses because of you, I guarantee your political career is over. Got it?”

José’s face was pale. He nodded hesitantly.

Morgan waved a hand dismissively. “White Wolf can do whatever the hell he wants, as long as he doesn’t drive an Abrams tank across the damn U.S.-Canada border.”

For the first time, a smile crossed Jen’s face. “I’ll personally oversee White Wolf’s execution of this mission.”

“I am watching all of you.”

Jen entered the small conference room alone. Ladybug and Rupert were still there, waiting for her return.

White Wolf, Aaron, was already gone.

“Where is Aaron?” Jen asked.

“He went down to the armoury on B2 to pick out his gear,” Ladybug replied. Her expression was grim—after witnessing the two deputy directors’ explosive argument, she could tell this mission was heading straight for disaster.

Jen got straight to the point. “Ladybug, do you still want in on this mission?”

“I… I’m not sure.” Ladybug hesitated.

“I’m taking full responsibility for this op. That was Morgan’s order just now.”

Ladybug let out a long sigh. “Then I’m out.” She gave Jen a meaningful look. “You be careful. You know what I mean, right?”

“Understood. You’re off the field assignment. Stick with me.” Jen nodded, then turned to Rupert. “And you?”

“I don’t have to go into the field, right?”

“You and Ladybug will stay with me—just like we have done in Japan. We’ll go to Vancouver. White Wolf handles the rescue; we provide him supports.”

“Then no problem, I am in.” Rupert agreed without hesitation.

As they were speaking, Aaron walked in, carrying a standard hiking backpack on his back and an equipment bag in his hand. Lemur followed behind him, carrying an equipment bag for Aaron in her hand.

“Hey, Jen, I’m all set for a solo op.”

“You heard everything?”

“I just know you guys were arguing.” Aaron grinned. “You’re not a politician; you’re our mother duck, aren’t you? I know you’ll handle it just fine. And besides, aside from Lemur, our team lineup is exactly the same as it was in Japan.”

“Bloody mother duck.” Jen was fuming. “Open the gear bag. I need to check it.”

“Same stuff as always—mines, explosives, a shotgun.”

“Can you even move freely with that much gear?” Jen asked skeptically.

“I’ll spread it out and bury most of it first. That way, once we rescue the team, we’ll have backup weapons ready. Of course, hopefully, we won’t need them.” Aaron answered casually. “Now the real question is—do we need to coordinate with the RCMP for this op?”

“We have to.” Jen’s expression suddenly turned sly. “And I’m about to disappoint quite a few people.”

Aaron pulled a key from his pocket and handed it to Lemur. “My apartment key. My will is in the nightstand drawer. Also, the laptop I borrowed from HQ—keep an eye on it when you have time. I don’t want any surprises on the home front.”

Lemur took the key with a scowl. “I might get deployed too, you know. White Wolf, I’m not your damn babysitter.”

“Then just handle it before you head out. Thanks, sis.” Aaron grinned, completely unfazed. Then he pointed at Jen and said:

“We need to change her callsign. ‘Lady Justice’ is way too boring. I like ‘Mother Duck’ much better.”

“I second that.” Rupert immediately chimed in. “And ducks are animals, so it fits with the Operations Division theme…” His voice trailed off as he noticed Jen’s previously amused expression turning darker.

“I dislike the callsign ‘Mother Duck’!”

While en route, Jen successfully established contact with Pierre-Yves Busson, the RCMP Pacific Region Commander and one of the seven Deputy Commissioners of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. She informed him about the missing NSAA team.

Busson knew exactly what NSAA did. He got straight to the point. “Ms. Van Limburg, what do you need from us?”

“Jen. Just call me Jen.”

“Then call me Pierre.”

“Alright, Pierre. We need a temporary command post set up nearby, we need updated maps of the area around Crystal Falls, and we need the weather forecast for the next few days…”

“And a guide familiar with the national park,” Aaron murmured. “They don’t need to come with me, but I need to understand the local vegetation, terrain, and any legends or folklore about the place.”

Jen relayed Aaron’s request, and when Pierre heard the guide wouldn’t be going into the field with them, he let out a small sigh of relief. “Then I can recommend an Indigenous elder who knows the area well. He’ll provide everything you need.”

Jen thanked him, then added, “We brought in some weapons. Don’t worry, no helicopters or missiles—just standard personal firearms. That won’t be an issue, right?”

“Not at all. You’ll be landing at Pitt Meadows Airport, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ll arrange everything for you.” Pierre agreed readily. “Are you sure you don’t need any of our people to accompany you into the mountains?”

“We have our own specialists for the field. And this could involve a cult, Pierre—I trust you understand. Some things are better left alone, right?”

“Of course. Let me know once you land. I’ll head to Coquitlam and check in.”

“Looking forward to meeting you, Pierre.”

The NSAA's official aircraft landed in Vancouver at 4:40 a.m. A liaison officer from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) escorted the four-person team onto a minibus, swiftly taking them to a commercial building in Coquitlam. The building was an RCMP-owned property, with the third floor vacant—perfectly suited for NSAA to use as a temporary command centre.

Pierre-Yves Busson was the quintessential Frenchman. In his early forties, he stood at only 5’9”, with a lean yet well-built frame. His black hair was slightly thinning, and his dark eyes, set deep beneath a high forehead and prominent cheekbones, carried a sharp glint that left no doubt—this was a man not to be trifled with, and a formidable figure within the RCMP.

He was clean-shaven, his lips were thin, his teeth stark white, and his chin had a distinct omega shape. Despite his age, he showed little sign of nasolabial folds.

He wore a broad-brimmed Stetson with black and tan trim, paired with a light blue RCMP shirt, deep navy uniform trousers, and spotless leather shoes.

The moment he saw Jen, he visibly froze. It took him about a second before he cleared his throat softly and, with a hint of shyness, stepped forward to shake Jen’s outstretched right hand. In fluent French, he said, "Vous me faites tourner la tête, madame."

"Vous me donnez l'impression d'être de retour dans les rues de Paris, Pierre," Jen responded in French, her gaze flowing like water, mesmerizingly beautiful.

"Hollandaise ?"

"En effet, de Rotterdam." Jen’s smile made everyone in the room feel slightly self-conscious. "Nous devrions parler anglais."

"Bien sûr." Pierre pulled out a chair for Jen before taking his own seat. "Welcome to Vancouver."

"Once the mission is completed, I’d love to visit the famous Butchart Gardens on Vancouver Island. Tell me, Pierre, are the flowers blooming in April?"

"Some have, but May is when they are at their most beautiful," Pierre replied with a smile. "Perhaps I’d be fortunate enough to invite you to Victoria in May to admire the scenery?"

"That would be my honour, Pierre. Now, let me introduce my colleagues."

Unconsciously, Jen had already taken full control of the rhythm. She introduced Ladybug, White Wolf, and Rupert one by one, smiling serenely as she waited for Pierre to respond.

Pierre first introduced a seventy-something-year-old Indigenous elder with brown skin. "This is Chris Ugakhpa. His surname means 'downstream of the river.' He is the best tracker in British Columbia and a renowned hunter."

Ugakhpa's gaze quickly locked onto Aaron. His voice was hoarse and aged. "Young man, I seem to recognize a familiar scent on you, and your shoes."

Aaron glanced down at his shoes—LT had taught them that when moving through the forest, it was best to wear soft-soled shoes without any tread patterns. He chuckled and said, "Elder, there are some things we can discuss in private later."

Ugakhpa chuckled at that too, and said nothing more.

Pierre then introduced the rest of his team before leaving his most trusted aide behind to help coordinate resources and personnel. He was preparing to take his leave when Jen handed him a business card with a handwritten phone number on it. "This is my personal number. If you ever come across anything strange that requires NSAA’s assistance, don’t hesitate to call me."

Pierre accepted it gladly, his steps noticeably lighter as he left.

Jen checked her watch. It was 7:15 a.m. Vancouver time. She turned to Aaron. "White Wolf, when are you planning to head out?"

"Give me half an hour," Aaron already had a rough plan. "I need to talk with Elder Ugakhpa. Before eight, I’ll leave with him and Ladybug—they’ll help me bury some things. I’ll go into the mountains alone."

"White Wolf?" Ugakhpa studied Aaron. "That’s a good name. The question is, do you deserve it?"

"Elder, don’t bring your grudge with LT into this. He nearly killed me." Aaron gave a wry smile. "Tell me about the vegetation, terrain, and any legends around here."

"The vegetation isn’t anything special—lots of evergreens, as well as cedar, oak, maple, aspen, and birch. You should be familiar with them. The herbaceous plants and vines are nothing unusual either. Since you were LT’s student, all of this should be basic knowledge for you." Ugakhpa paused to think. "Crystal Falls isn’t particularly remarkable—it’s just a small waterfall about ten meters high, with no significant legends. The terrain in this area, however, is quite complex. Rivers cut through the valleys, and the highest peaks reach around four thousand feet. Coquitlam Mountain has long been designated as a restricted area. If your people went missing here, it won’t be easy to find them."

Rupert took the map and pointed at Crystal Falls. "Their GPS signal was lost here. This is the last known location before our internal tracking system also went dark. Elder, what do you think?"

Ugakhpa smiled. "What do I think? There’s nowhere around there that could shelter a large group of people. However, if you head southeast from the falls, there’s a shooting club. Do you think they might be there?"

Aaron asked, "What about upstream? Any large flat areas?"

Ugakhpa nodded. "The stream above the falls is called Pritchett Creek. It’s about two miles to the source, at an elevation of around 2,100 feet. There are flat clearings in the forest, but if you want to find them, that’s on you."

Rupert, slightly irritated, was about to argue when Aaron gently stopped him. "One last question—any strange legends?"

Ugakhpa thought for a moment. "Yes. Somewhere between Dennett Lake and Twins Lake, some hikers have reported seeing staircases."

"Staircases?" Rupert was intrigued.

"Don't ask," Aaron cut him off immediately. "We have enough to go on. Elder, thank you. Do you have any advice for me before I head into the woods?"

Ugakhpa studied him for a moment. "Since you were LT’s student, and you have a grudge against him, I have only one piece of advice—rescue your people, and don’t try to dig deeper into these mountains."

"That’s how I’ve always worked, Elder. I respect and honour every forest." Aaron’s tone was serious. "Let the wild remain wild, and let people stay where they belong."

Ugakhpa let out a deep, toothless laugh, revealing gaps where age had taken its toll. "Good. You will live a long life, young man." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ebony talisman, handing it to Aaron. "Take this. It might help you."

Aaron strung it together with his dog tags. "Boss, we’re ready. The three of us can head out now."

"Where do you plan to hide the supplies?" Jen asked curiously. "Can you tell me?"

"Near Crystal Falls, or deeper in if necessary." Aaron smirked. "Ladybug, after you bury the supplies, swing by that shooting club. I have a hunch it might be worth a look—but don’t expect too much."