Marin Oakroot climbed the last ridge of the Hemlock Mountains with the charcoal copy folded against her chest. She had spent years chasing one question: how a human and a dogbear first chose each other. Three people had held pieces of that answer. Three people had gone silent the moment she showed them the marking. She meant to find out why. The trail opened into a wide clearing at the foot of a great arched cave. Old drawings ran along the stone above the mouth, faded but clear enough — a human and a dogbear, side by side. Marin's breath caught. This was where the cold trail kept ending. This was the place. She found the toy near the center of the clearing. A carved wooden bone, weathered smooth, its base ringed with tight symbols. She crouched and turned it in her hands. Beside it, pressed into the dirt, were three sets of boot prints, all arriving, none leaving toward the path she had climbed. They had come here together. They had stood right where she stood. Marin lifted her eyes and saw the doorway. It stood against the cave wall, carved wood swallowed by vine, a keyhole shaped exactly like the base of the toy in her hand. Her stomach turned cold. The three had met here. They had seen this. And then they had gone quiet — not by chance, but because something past this door had asked them to. She pulled the charcoal copy from her shirt and held it up to the carved frame. The symbols matched. Marin closed her fingers around the wooden bone. The trail had not gone cold. It had gone through.