We’re all on high alert for any unusual sounds, and even Booker and Foley have set aside their antagonism to search. The forest is huge, but it’s familiar, and if there’s someone out here, we’ll find them.
“I can’t believe none of you brought a weapon,” Foley says, lifting his Peril post a bit higher. It might not be one of Lynx’s knives, but that thing aimed at the head would do real damage.
“We don’t know that this person is dangerous,” Kennedy points out.
“We don’t know that they’re not either,” Foley throws back.
They both make a point, but a weapon was the furthest thing from my mind. Even if I did have one, there’s no guarantee I would have used it.
“Now, now, boys,” Booker says. “Wouldn’t want you getting into a fight and getting injured, would we?”
Well,hewould. Though I suppose after being up and at it all night that even he needs to rest. I know all the people in town, but Booker is one that I struggle to get a read on. Wilde likes to go to the swimming hole to relax, and Rooney likes to make soaps and candles and carve them into weird shapes. Lynx spends his free time cooking or with the kids. Booker though? I have no clue what he gets up to when no one is watching.
I’m not so sure that I want to know.
A loud crack comes from our left, and the four of us freeze. I’m peering through the trees, trying to make out any movement, but as the seconds stretch on without a sign, I relax.
No one there.
Kennedy turns to the rest of us. “We’re never going to find this guy.”
“We’ll find him.” Foley passes his stick to the other hand, and the small bit of sun we had disappears behind a heavy rain cloud. His piercing blue eyes turn toward the sky. “Let’s keep moving.”
Kennedy glances back at me. “You okay?”
I nod because out of the three of us, he’s the one who doesn’t know the forest well. If anything, I should be asking him that question.
“We need to get into the mind of our nighttime visitor,” Booker says. “They’re creeping in the dark and stealing food. Perhaps they’re not here for nefarious reasons. Unfortunately.”
“What’s unfortunate about that?” The shock comes through in Kennedy’s tone.
“I find the alternative much more fun.”
Kennedy eyes him with the same wariness I normally do. “Chances are this guy is lost and needs help.”
“Then why didn’t he ask for it?” Foley pushes some long grass aside with his post. “I don’t trust it.”
“Also, I find that innocent people don’t make off with very sharp, very large knives,” Booker adds.
Kennedy stops walking. “He what?”
“Poor thing chose Lynx’s favorite one too.” Booker’s smile spreads. “I’d hate to see what Lynx does to him once he’s found.”
“I almost hope the poor bastard isn’t found,” Kennedy croaks.
“If he’s smart,” Foley says, swiping more shrubs out of his way, “he’ll be hidden somewhere off the main paths. With easy access. Shelter.”
The storm clouds above rumble, making our creeping pointless.
“Definitely shelter,” he repeats. “There aren’t many places like that, right?”
“Hobby Straight was the first place we checked,” Booker says. “Those creepy little cabins attract chaos.”
“Surprised you don’t live there.” Kennedy flicks a look his way.
“Me?” Booker’s voice turns overly dramatic and offended. “I exist for a quiet life. I’m a man of simple pleasures. A mere servant to my community.”
“Fuck simple,” Foley says. “The only pleasure you should be given is the kind that drives you out of your mind.”
