Zake’s Gully

A narrow ravine carved into the flanks of the mountainside, this gully is choked with loose scree and the skeletal remains of scavenged equipment. The ground slopes abruptly downward, its surface littered with broken branches and the crushed remnants of a portable camp. The air here carries the sharp scent of disturbed earth and the metallic tang of old gunfire, mingling with the damp chill that seeps from the surrounding rocks. Shadows cling to the deeper crevices, where water seeps through fractured stone to pool in murky puddles. The uneven terrain ends abruptly at a sharp drop, the lip of the gully giving way to a steeper slope below—where Zake’s body lies twisted, his neck broken in the fall. The isolation and ruggedness of the gulch amplify every echoed voice, making the space feel like a trap.