They were out there, somewhere. Two sets of footprints led her into the woods, promising to deliver the beasts who killed her son. It was another cold day this Canadian winter, and snow covered everything she saw. The wind bit her and hit her, warning her away from her hunt. 

Don't do it, it screamed. You don't know what awaits you.

Nevertheless, she followed. The unknown dangers in this dark forest couldn't stop her, not with revenge on the line. Not when they'd killed her son. She followed the prints further. She blinked; the footsteps vanished. Suddenly, she was alone.