We turn back to the valley. The wolf is drinking from the stream now, oblivious to us. I touch the teal sapphire at my throat.
I watch the animal—how it stands alone, how it doesn't need permission to exist.
That is what I was,I think.Before the fear. Before the warehouse.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, shielding the screen from the glare. The daily poem from Dorian.
I look for you in the falling rain,
And the wind that calls your name.
I trace you in the melting sun
And the shining moon.
I look for you in everything…
And find you in my heart,
My love.
My Goddess.
I look from the text to the rugged horizon Brad Wilder just disappeared into.
Dorian is trying. He’s fighting his own nature, learning stillness. And I’m here, breathing air that tastes like freedom.
* * *
Salt Lake City & Moab: The Delicate
Leaving Yellowstone is like waking up from a wild dream you almost want to sink back into. South of the park, the world shifts—green fades, red takes over.
We stop in Salt Lake City for a day, wrapped in spa robes, the air thick with eucalyptus and quiet luxury. The grime from the road disappears under hot water and rough towels. Wet sauna, dry sauna, hot stones massage, facial, floating… we try them all.
It’s the most pampering, completely relaxing experience I have ever had.
After all the spoiling, while getting dressed, I catch my reflection in the mirror. The bruises are just yellow smudges now. The cut on my arm? Just a thin, pink scar.
For a second, I almost look whole. Feel whole.
* * *
Moab is where everything actually changes.
We roll into Arches National Park before sunrise on day six, the land painted in rust, ochre, that deep, impossible orange you only get in the desert.
"We're hiking to the Delicate Arch," Silvia announces, tossing me a water bottle. "It's three miles. Uphill. On solid rock."
"You're trying to kill me?" I groan, tying my laces. “Last time I went to the gym it was for a sports client campaign.”
"I'm trying to make you sweat out the demons, Della. Let's go."
Silvia is leading the way with such ease but to me the hike is brutal. My lungs burn, my calves scream, and the sun beats down on the red slickrock with unforgiving intensity. But I keep pushing… through the burn and the exhaustion, forcing my body to remember what it can do.
I am not weak. I am not broken.
And then, we turn the corner around a massive rock wall, and the world opens up.
