We reached the end of the field, greeted by towering pine trees. The trail had all but grown over, hiding the many overnight trips I had taken with Pops. It left my heart heavy. The thought of dragging the gremlins into the woods should be terrifying. Me? Responsible for kids? It bordered on parental neglect, and yet, at the same time, passing on Pop’s training seemed fitting. I’d make nature remember.
“In there?”
I nodded. He didn’t know it, but we weren’t just stepping into the woods. Over the threshold and with every step, we’d leave behind our plates of armor.
Nick’s chest rose as he sucked in a breath of determination. “Okay.” He went to take a step, and my arm shot up, blocking him.
“Not yet.”
I closed my eyes, letting the sun warm the back of my neck. With a deep breath, I inhaled the sweet scent of bark mixed with sap. It held a hint of wet earth. After decades in the city, I had almost forgotten the smell of nature.
It smelled like home.
I cringed at the squish.
We spent the better part of the day hiking, stopping for a quick lunch of beef jerky and trail mix. We had sat on the rock in silence, taking in Firefly from a distance. Surrounded by mountains, the town sat on the edge of the wilderness, as if it were the last frontier. My thoughts continued drifting to Pops and the way he straddled both worlds. I tried brushing them away, but it always came back to a simple question: “What if I had done things differently?”
Another squish. Nick pulled off his soaked sneakers and then moved on to his socks. Sitting on a log across a small clearing, I could see his jeans had darkened up to the knee. I almost suggested he take them off as well. Instead of off-handed flirting, I reached into my rucksack and pulled out the paracord. I found two branches to tie a line and picked up his socks, tossing them over so they could dry.
“Thanks,” he said. “Is this camp?”
I inspected the flat, packed dirt. We’d need to clear the brush and find stones to build a fireplace. I checked for branches awayfrom the site where we could hang our bags out of the reach of bears. A slight slope led to a long stretch of river.
“I think it is.”
Nick’s shoulders relaxed.
“Don’t think this is where it gets easy.”
“My feet beg to differ.” He stood, brushing himself off. “Okay, Mr. Survival, what’s first?”
Four miles and not once had he complained. If he were like me, he would be deep in his thoughts, trying to make sense of the world. I had imagined future interviews and the asinine questions they’d ask. In my head, I always got the job. It didn’t mean I’d find a place where I fit in. After a while, I had to ask myself the hard question, “Why did finding a place I belonged matter?” Because I could answer, I’d dodge the question and go back to Pop’s survival lessons.
Pops referred to it as the holy trinity. “Shelter. Fire. Food.”
“Not fire, food, shelter?”
“You can survive without food.”
Nick looked down at his belly. “I beg to differ.”
I let my eyes linger as he gave his stomach a firm pat. Too bad he hadn’t fallen in the river. Then he’d be standing there naked, and it wouldn’t be his stomach I eyed.
“If we were lost, we’d need to stay alive long enough for a rescue. Sleeping in the rain is miserable, and you risk hypothermia. Get a roof over your head. Then fire. Can cook, stay warm, and be surprised how quickly your eyes adjust to it at night. Then food.”
“I didn’t pack enough for that.”
My eyebrows went up. The city boy made me grin. “You don’t pack food.”
“I mean, if I thought?—”
With arms out wide, I spun about. “It’s a buffet.”
“You’re going to catch dinner?”
Did I lie and say yes? I wished the bag at the bottom of my rucksack had a filet of fish and not a thick, juicy steak. It’d be harder to convince him I wandered into the woods, found a wild cow. I bet he had never seen venison. For a moment, I debated feigning going off and making a ruckus until he believed I bested a deer with my bare hands.
“No.” I sighed. Pops would’ve rolled his eyes. “I brought steak for dinner.”
