The rhythmic thrum of windshield wipers is the only sound until the headlights catch a solitary figure on the shoulder of the winding mountain road. Sophia Martin stands there, her brown braids slightly damp, clutching the straps of her oversized backpack as she squinting against the glare. When the car rolls to a stop and the window slides down, she leans in, a look of immense relief washing over her soft features.