The woods were eerily still. You could hear every twig snap underfoot. The occasional rustle of wildlife or brief radio update was the only thing that broke the quiet.

In the dark, everything changes. Landmarks disappear. Hazards blend in. You move slower, feel for obstacles, and rely more on instinct and experience. For me, it was a test of composure. Of learning to work with my senses in a new way.

At one point, it felt like I was completely alone. But in that isolation, there was clarity. A pure kind of focus that I hadn’t expected. Then the update came: another team had found her. She was safe, sitting on a bench not far from where she’d last been seen. Relief flooded in.

That night reminded me why regular training matters, and how quickly it becomes real. I saw how trust, teamwork, and calm under pressure save lives. And I felt it: that moment where you realise you’re part of something bigger. Every call is a chance to help someone. And sometimes, you find a little more of yourself too.