Bounce. Puff. Strut.
The bird tilted its head, tiny eyes fixed on me. It took two steps forward, then continued its bizarre routine, like the bird equivalent of a TikTok dance challenge.
“You’re not trying to mate with me, are you?”
It was the most bizarre, authentic Colorado moment I’d experienced, lying in a ditch while being propositioned by a disco chicken.
Suddenly, the bird froze, head jerking toward some distant sound. It deflated its bizarre air sacs and disappeared into the underbrush, leaving me alone with the smoking wreckage of the golf cart, a growing collection of bruises, and the sobering realization that I was now stranded.
“Thanks for nothing!” I called after it. “Not even dinner first?”
With a groan that likely scared off any remaining wildlife within a half-mile radius, I rolled onto my side and pushed myself up to a standing position. Pain shot through my ankle when I tried to put weight on it.
“Great,” I muttered. “Just perfect.”
Using a nearby tree for support, I hauled myself upright, testing how much weight my injured ankle could bear. Ifashioned a makeshift walking stick from a fallen branch and slowly made my way back to the road.
To my right lay the path back to the resort. To safety, to comfort, to perfectly heated infinity pools and room service.
To my left, the path continued toward the Adventure Center, toward Noah, or so I hoped. My ankle throbbed at the mere thought of walking in either direction.
But then something caught my eye, a narrow dirt track branching off from the main path, almost hidden by overhanging branches. Fresh tire marks cut through the dirt, the distinctive tread pattern I recognized from Noah’s Jeep. They veered off the main road, heading deeper into the forest.
Noah’s tracking lesson echoed in my brain.
“… tracking isn’t just about footprints…”
“… it’s about reading the whole story … direction, speed, how recently they passed by …”
I looked closer, tracing my hand over the dirt. The tire prints were still fresh, the edges still sharp where the tires had cut through the soft earth. Noah had come this way, and recently.
I glanced back toward the resort, its lights just visible through the trees. Then I looked down the overgrown path, with its uneven ground and low-hanging branches. There were thorns spiking out of a nasty-looking vine curled around a rotten stump. At least a dozen creepy, crawly insects were within jumping distance of my head.
With one final glance up the road, perhaps my last glimpse of civilization, I followed the tracks of the mountain man into the unknown.
I hobbled down the brush-shrouded path, my makeshift walking stick sinking into the soft earth, still damp from the storm. The pain in my ankle had settled into a dull throb, manageable if I gritted my teeth and pictured Noah’s scowl every time I was tempted to turn back. Like a drill sergeant who pushed new recruits to their maximum limit, and then beyond.
“Follow the tracks,” I said to myself, examining the distinctive tread pattern Noah’s Jeep left in the dirt. “Just like he told you.”
The trees thinned ahead, sunlight breaking through the canopy to illuminate a clearing nestled at the base of a towering cliff face. And there, parked in a patch of wildflowers near the trailhead, sat Noah’s battered Jeep.
“Noah?” I approached cautiously, leaning on my walking stick to support my weight.
No answer.
I limped toward the vehicle, hope and dread wrestling in my chest. The driver’s door was unlocked, keys dangling from the ignition. In the backseat were the clothes he’d been wearing for our spa date, the button-down shirt, a pair of new-looking jeans and the loafers. Now tossed aside and discarded in a tangled ball. My heart hurt just looking at them. He had to be close. But where?
My eyes scanned the open space, then settled on the towering wall of rock forming the back edge of the clearing. A thin climbing rope caught my eye, hanging down from the top. I squinted upward, following its length. The rope disappeared over a jutting ledge about thirty feet up. I couldn’t see anything beyond it.
“Noah! Are you up there?” Only silence answered me in return.
The rope swayed slightly in the mountain breeze. I knew Noah must be up there somewhere, probably working out hisfrustrations with LuxeLife, his frustrations with me. Not a surprise that he would use extreme adventure sports as an anger management technique.
The sun glinted off something metal, a carabiner maybe? But I couldn’t make out a human figure against the mottled gray stone.
“Great. I followed him all the way out here, nearly got killed, and he’s off communing with rocks instead of answering me.”
A flicker of movement caught my eye, not from above me, but beside me, a shadow shifting at the edge of my vision. I turned, hopefully expecting to see Noah’s tall frame emerging from the woods.
