Blood Still in the Woods: What a Preservation Sequel Could Reveal About Our Inner Predators

In 2014, Preservation, a taut and chilling survival thriller from writer-director Christopher Denham, took audiences deep into the forest—and deeper still into the darker recesses of human instinct. A simple weekend hunting trip turned into a brutal fight for survival when a trio of masked attackers began stalking a group of suburbanites. What unfolded was a stripped-down, almost primal exploration of how quickly civilized façades crumble when survival is at stake.

Though the film flew under the radar compared to blockbusters or genre juggernauts, Preservation has carved out a small but vocal following. With its minimalistic style, eerie atmosphere, and moral ambiguity, the film felt like a psychological gut punch, echoing classics like Deliverance or The Strangers, but with a modern, nerve-scraping tension.

Now, more than a decade later, the question looms: Could Preservation return? And more importantly—should it?Let’s imagine what a sequel might look like—and why it could deepen the original film’s eerie legacy . In Preservation, married couple Wit and Mike head into a remote nature preserve with Mike’s brother, Sean, a recently discharged soldier. What begins as a quiet hunting trip spirals into chaos when they wake to find all their gear stolen and strange symbols marked on their foreheads.

They’re being hunted—but not by wild animals. A trio of masked teens begins a sadistic game of survival, forcing the group into the wilderness with no supplies, no weapons, and no backup. The final act takes a sharp psychological turn. Wit—initially the soft-spoken and rational one—emerges as the sole survivor. And she doesn’t just survive—she kills. Brutally. Without hesitation. When the mask comes off, it’s not clear who the real monsters are. 

The final scene shows Wit, covered in blood, walking back toward civilization. But the haunting look in her eyes suggests she may have left something behind in those woods—or brought something with her.Years after the events of the first film, the nature preserve has been consumed by wildfire—one of the many wildland disasters plaguing an increasingly unstable climate. But beneath the ashes, bones have been found. Human bones. Some new. Some old.

Wit, now living under a new identity and working as a park ranger hundreds of miles away, is dragged back into the past when investigators begin connecting the remains to multiple missing persons cases in the area—including the teens she encountered long ago.But here’s the twist: someone survived. One of the masked teens never died. And they’ve been waiting.

The sequel shifts between dual timelines: the aftermath of the original events and the present-day investigation. As Wit returns to help authorities “identify” the victims, she’s forced to confront what really happened—and what she’s become.

Meanwhile, a new group of hikers enters the now-restricted remains of the preserve—drawn by urban legends of a woman who “hunted the hunters.” One by one, they begin to disappear. Cameras go missing. Drones crash. And someone is watching them through the trees—not with teenage chaos, but with trained, adult precision.It’s no longer just a story about survival. It’s about legacy. Trauma passed from one predator to the next.

The original film was notable not for elaborate set pieces, but for its psychological bite. A sequel could evolve this further by asking harder questions:

• Is survival a one-time choice—or a permanent transformation?

• Can we ever return to normal after becoming a killer?

• Is violence contagious?

• What if trauma doesn’t just scar us—but rewires us?

Wit’s arc would be central. Once a victim, then a killer, she now lives in a world that no longer makes moral sense. She doesn’t fear the woods anymore—she fears herself.

A new Preservation film wouldn’t need to be flashy. Its power lies in tension—the quiet moments before the scream, the crack of twigs, the breath in the dark. The burned forest could be a symbolic and literal playground for dread—an ecosystem stripped of life, yet hiding something sinister beneath the surface.Cinematography would lean toward wide shots of emptiness—emptied cabins, scorched trees, isolated lakes—all amplifying the loneliness and futility of trying to "escape."

In an age of true-crime obsession, survivalist subreddits, and a growing unease with the fragility of civilization, Preservation feels more timely than ever. Films like Alone, Beast, and Prey have proven that audiences still crave stories about man versus nature—especially when the real enemy is human nature itself.By giving Preservation a sequel, the story could finally examine what survival really means—not just for a weekend in the woods, but for the rest of your life.

Wit may have walked out of the woods at the end of Preservation, but the woods never left her. A sequel—Preservation: After the Fire—could dig deeper into the psyche of survival and offer a haunting meditation on what it means to kill for your life…and live with it.The fire burned the forest.But it didn’t cleanse it.