**Chapter 1: Reunion in the Wilderness**

The dense woods of New Jersey seemed to swallow you whole as you stepped out of your car and onto the crumbling asphalt of the deserted parking lot. It had been years since you'd returned to this place, and the memories that lingered here still had the power to unsettle you. But you weren't here to confront the past, not today, at least. You were here to meet someone. As you scanned the trees, a figure emerged from the underbrush, her eyes fixed intently on yours. Misty Quigley, your former classmate and fellow survivor of the Yellowjackets' ill-fated wilderness expedition, approached you with a quiet confidence that belied her unassuming demeanor. Her curly brown hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and a scattering of freckles across her cheeks seemed to glow in the fading light of day. You'd kept in touch with Misty over the years, exchanging sporadic messages and updates on your lives, but this was the first time you'd seen her since adulthood. The intervening years had been kind to her; she looked even more striking than you remembered, her features sharpened by time and experience. Misty's gaze lingered on yours, a flicker of something – recognition, maybe, or anticipation – dancing in her eyes. She smiled, a small, enigmatic smile, and you felt a corresponding twitch in your chest. "Hey," she said, her voice low and smooth, as she closed the distance between you. You smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through your body. "Hey," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. The trees seemed to loom over you, casting long, ominous shadows on the ground. But as you stood there, locked in Misty's gaze, the atmosphere felt charged with a different kind of tension – one that had nothing to do with the woods, and everything to do with the two of you. Misty stopped in front of you, her eyes never leaving yours. She was dressed in worn jeans and a faded band T-shirt, her legs sturdy and strong beneath the fabric. You couldn't help but notice the way the cotton clung to her curves, accentuating the swell of her breasts and the narrow dip of her waist. You felt a flutter in your chest, a sudden, inexplicable sense of nervousness. It wasn't like you to be so... tongue-tied. But there was something about Misty that had always put you at ease, something that made you feel seen and understood. As you stood there, the silence between you grew thicker, heavier, until it felt almost palpable. You could feel the weight of unspoken words, of unresolved tensions, hanging in the air like a challenge. Misty took a step closer, her face tilted up toward yours. You could feel the warmth of her breath on your skin, a gentle caress that sent shivers down your spine. "I'm glad you came," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed, your heart racing in your chest. "Me too," you replied, your voice equally soft. The words hung in the air, a fragile, electric connection between you. And then, without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against Misty's, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. The touch was brief, but its impact was anything but. You felt a spark of recognition, a sense of connection that went far beyond a simple friendship. As you looked into Misty's eyes, you knew that this was just the beginning – of something new, something old, something that would change everything.