Big Timber

Brad Benton and Joe Foster slump in the dim light of their cluttered office, exhaustion etched into their faces. The endless grind of activism weighs heavy—petitions, protests, the ceaseless fight for the wild. Underappreciated, they mutter, voices thick with fatigue. Then Josh Weston strides in, Falcon's golden boy, all easy confidence and sharp edges. 'Pack your bags,' he says, eyes gleaming. 'We're heading north to California, straight into the heart of that logging nightmare.' The mission thrills them, but Brad gripes first, his hand raking through tousled hair. Saving the planet devours every hour, leaves no room for the raw pull of flesh and release. Joe nods, frustration coiling tight in his chest, his body aching for something beyond the noble cause. Josh leans against the doorframe, a sly smile curling his lips. He's driven them relentlessly, yes—pushed their limits for the greater good. But now, he craves a different kind of exertion. A chance to peel back the layers, to reward their sweat with his own brand of gratitude, skin to skin, urgent and unyielding.