The morning.
Frost covers the porch where Elias stands, his shotgun hanging loose over his shoulder.
He is only 13, his legs still stiff from working on the ridge, yet his fingers move quickly as he grabs the last salt bag from the shed.
The bag is nearly empty, with a few grains still clinging to its seams. He steps inside and throws it on the table with a heavy thud.
"Grayson bled us dry," he says, his voice steady despite his youth. "This bag won't even line a corner."
Outside, Daniel is by the barn. He leans over his rifle, his bruised arm scraping the barrel clean.
Without looking up, he says, "Town's got nothing worth a damn. Bobby's our guy, it's time to pay the gruffy man a visit."
At the sink, Mara swirls a mug under the tap, her scarred hands working methodically. "We've only got three shells left," she adds. "I'd rather throw rocks than depend on those. And is the truck still running?"
Daniel grunts, flexing his injured arm with a wince. "As long as the road holds. Elias, grab the canteen; we're hitting the road."
Soon, they pile into the truck. Elias darts to the cab, a knife clattering as his boots kick up snow. Daniel limps to the driver's side, muttering, "Damn cold, if these locks freeze we're stuck." Mara, holding her rifle tightly, calls, "Check the gas, kid, or we'll be hoofing it!"
Elias glances at the gauge and speaks quietly, "We're at half; we'll manage even if we have to limp along."
The drive takes six long hours. The flat Kansas plains give way to the edge of South Dakota. The truck's heater coughs, and the windows are streaked with fog.
Daniel growls under his breath, "This rig is a mule; stubborn and nearly dead."
Elias, resting a shotgun across his knees, mutters, "Better than walking when the snow is up to my shins."
Mara chimes in sharply, "Stop griping. Keep your eyes on the road."
They finally arrive at Sioux Falls around noon. The salvage yard is a jumble of rust and steel, with snow smeared dark over the gravel.
At the gate stands Bobby; a name Elias has only heard whispered at home.
Elias's heart skips a beat, remembering the way Daniel and Mara spoke of him in low tones. Now, meeting him face-to-face, the man in his mid-forties wears a cap pulled low, and a crate of salt bags sits at his feet. A shotgun leans casually on the fender of a battered truck.
As the truck rumbles to a stop, Bobby squints and calls out in a gravelly voice, "Daniel, you're out already? What do you have for us this time? Ghosts or just bad aim?"
Daniel steps out slowly, his bruised arm reminding him of past encounters. "It's a ghost. The ridge gave up every bit of its hold. Did you stock up or are you just talking?"
Bobby snorts and nudges the crate with his toe. "We've got twenty pounds of salt, but don't waste it on empty threats. What did you burn, anyway?"
Elias, watching keenly, gathers his courage. He remembers his parents mentioning Bobby's name many times at the dinner table.
Now, for the first time, he speaks up, his voice a mix of respect and uncertainty. "Mr. Bobby, I—I've heard Dad and Mom talk about you. They say you never disappoint when it comes to information, and to restock." His eyes flick from Bobby to his parents, silently asking for approval.
Bobby's gaze softens as he steps closer. "So you're the kid they keep bragging about, huh? Well, welcome to the real hunt." He offers a small nod as if to confirm Elias's silent question.
Mara steps out of the cab, hands tucked in her coat pockets. "We burnt the letters. They tied the ghost down. Now, we have nothing left."
Daniel leans against the truck hood. "We lost three shells too. Three shells is more like a prayer than a plan."
Bobby lifts a salt bag and tosses it toward Mara. She catches it effortlessly. "I've got three boxes of iron rounds too. Grab 'em quick, I'm not your mule today," he says, his tone blending amusement with a hint of warning.
Mara slings her bag over her shoulder and replies, "They're better than nothing. Our supplies are almost spent."
Daniel straightens up and asks in his gruff tone, "How are things out there? Is it quiet, or are jobs drying up?"
Bobby shrugs, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Mostly ghosts. Most folks never learn to seal a door with salt right. You're the first group I've seen in days."
Elias chimes in softly, "That's good. It means we'll have a warm fire tonight."
Roy, a gruff hunter unloading ammo from a battered Ford nearby, chimes in with a friendly smirk "Listen to that. The kid already thinks faster than a lot of drifters I've met."
Mara sets her bag down and glances at Bobby. "Got any warm supplies besides rock-hard coffee and lead, or should we be grateful for what we have?"
Bobby scratches his neck and replies dryly, "I've got coffee. It's not fresh, but it'll do. If you want the good stuff, you'll have to pay up."
Daniel chuckles in his own rough way, "You guard that coffee like treasure, even if it tastes like tar."
Bobby fires back with a gruff tone, "Tar's what keeps you going. Drink up or move along."
Elias drags another salt bag forward with steady hands and mutters, "Tar's fine, it beats freezing over."
Roy watches Elias carefully, his tone thoughtful as he offers, "Kid, you've got grit. Just make sure you keep your head clear. I've seen too many rush in and get hurt."
Mara snaps quickly, "He won't rush; he's smart enough to wait until he's sure."
Roy nods and adds, "Just remember that, alright?"
Bobby then grabs a crate and lowers his voice, "Alright, load up. The roads aren't fully frozen yet. Don't bring any extra trouble my way."
Daniel hefts an ammo box and grunts, "Trouble's bound to come if this rig dies as it barely kept us moving today."
Mara slams the truck's tailgate with a firm sound. "Elias, your shotgun is on you. Stay sharp and keep it ready."
Elias secures his shotgun tightly and answers firmly, "I'm wide awake until we get back to Lawrence."
The truck rumbles back to life, salt and shells rattling in the cargo area. Roy's Ford coughs and peels away without a wave. Bobby watches them go, half-empty crate in hand, and mutters under his breath, "Hope that kid's aim is as good as his mouth."
As the convoy sets off, Sioux Falls disappears in the rearview mirror.
Elias eyes the long road ahead, absorbing every bit of advice and every word from these seasoned hunters.
Today, he not only traveled with his parents but also met Bobby and others whose stories and skills have defined the hunt.
With cautious determination and newfound respect for the men and women on this harsh road, Elias feels himself growing stronger and more ready for the challenges yet to come.