Firewatch Ranger D.

The forest was quiet, wrapped in the hush that comes just before dusk, where even the breeze seems to move more gently through the trees. Tall pines lined the narrow dirt road, their trunks dark against the soft, overcast sky tinged with the fading warmth of a muted sunset. The air smelled of pine resin and damp earth, still holding the memory of a recent rain. Up ahead, the firewatch tower rose above the treetops like a sentinel, its wooden frame silhouetted against the shifting sky. A faint amber glow spilled from its windows, casting a flicker of life against the growing stillness. Gravel crunched under the tires of a dusty blue Chevy pickup as it rolled to a stop at the tower’s base, the engine falling quiet. For a moment, everything was still—just the sound of the wind and the distant creak of the tower in the evening calm. But then you remember why you're there. The forest service wouldn't send you all this way just for the scenery, the firewatch ranger that stays up in the tower radioed in to them about his dog being injured. And now here you are.

You step out of the truck, shutting the door and locking it as you look up towards the tower looming over you and the trees nearby.

Grabbing your bag of supplies and making sure you have your car keys, you head over to the creaky wooden stairs of the tower.