I had a grim sense of foreboding as I flew over the treetops, flecked with white. The first snow of winter had finally fallen, and the silence of the land and contrast of black trees and white snow put my mind ill-at-ease.

I reminded myself that Ashton was resilient beyond reason, and that a little cold and snow would not harm him. At the very worst, it would encourage him to finally close the door to his domicile.

And yet when I came in to land, I saw that it still sat open, fresh snow all over with no footprints to be seen. He must be staying inside and warm, I thought, feeling some happiness and relief that he was not out attempting to wrestle a bear for supper or some such.

Yet when I landed and called out, there was no reply. I knocked and then entered to find the room dimly-lit and empty.

Emulating Ashton, I clapped twice, and the lights turned on. An amusing gadget.

He was…completely gone. Most any scrap of value had been taken, food stores were gone, many tools–and the box AEGIS used for communication, different kind of tool though she be–were gone. The room’s mass-fabricator stood dark in the corner, and even the hammock seemed to be removed.

It looked as though he had utterly moved out. I frowned and primed my visor to pick out any details I may have missed. I did not think it would be like him to up and vanish without any warning, but then I had to confess I had incomplete knowledge of how he operated beyond a fight.

My visor threw up an info panel directing my attention to where the hammock had hung. I had thought it taken down, but upon closer inspection, it was cut down, one end of it still hanging from the wall and the other in a small crumpled pile on the floor. Underneath the hammock, a linear crater in the ground, apparently rent by a large sharp object falling. No blood, so this was no execution, but the thought of something assaulting Ashton in his sleep made my stomach turn.

Assassinations of that sort were common among hunters, but I found them the desperate work of the unrighteous, attempting to steal a life they could not fairly claim. To think that Ashton could have fallen in such a way…

I shivered and continued my detective work. Here and there, on the walls and floors were similar gouges. Electrical burn marks. Something very large and heavy had been scraping along the center of the floor, moving erratically and then ultimately had stopped and then been removed, leaving long scratches in the floor leading out the door.

Ashton had fought here, something large and dangerous. Whatever it was, it did not bleed, and neither had he…much, so I could only assume him the victor. The fact that something had come by afterwards and cleaned up whatever he’d fought indicated that someone had come by after the conflict…I would bet whoever had done so was involved, but whether it was Ashton or his opponents, I had no way to tell.

What occurred after that, and where he currently resided…any clues of that were long since buried under the snow. I found myself seated in the middle of the cold concrete floor, blinking back my feelings and feeling my heart plummet within me.

I felt…helpless. Empty. Whether defeated or gone, I had a bond with the Exhuman, and was not ready to let him go. Helplessness was the most painful emotion, it reminded me of painful times. I refused to wallow in it.

I stood up and dusted myself off. Enough of this moping, it benefited nobody. I had spent long enough grieving for a lifetime. Ashton was strong, I believed in him. Whatever this adversary had been, it had been large and strong and he had defeated it. Even if it had allies, I knew he would defeat them with the same brilliance and tenacity with which he engaged me. I would not mourn for him, I would only hope for his swift return.

To this end, I wrote him a brief note wishing him well and letting him know I had come to call…and that he would be in my thoughts and prayers, and departed.

Even with nothing but a cold trail to follow, I would chase him. I was yet a hunter.