“Nah, we got this.”
Canyon sat quietly for a second, then loped off to camp. His rucksack was sitting where he left it, unharmed. Near it, a silky mass of something covered the ground.
What the hell is this shit?
“Spider webbing, I guess. The thing snuck up on me. One minute I had a fire going and a lantern, the next minute my fire was out, my lantern was dark, and the thing was dropping on me from above. Me and Wulf managed to scramble before it got us, but we were no match for it.”
He was quiet for a beat, then he said, “You slept through that shit, bro.”
I don’t know how.
“Fuck. Me neither.”
No more sleep tonight.
“Good plan. If we haven’t found the way out by daylight, we’ll sleep then.”
Canyon pointed himself north, then pulled a compass out of his pack to check. He was spot on.
They took off.
***
Hours later, Canyon trudged along after his brother, who was holding his injured arm tight to his side and taking lefts and rights on the forest trails seemingly at random.
Eventually, the first streaks of morning light shone in the sky. The forest trail ended, dumping them out in a meadow. Timber followed a slim deer trail through the grass until they were far from any trees.
“We camp here,” he said.
Canyon dropped his rucksack to the ground and turned around, surveying the meadow in the early morning light.
No trees,he said,so it can’t drop on us from above, and we should be able to see it coming through the grass.
But Timber was already curled up as a wolf in the grass, sleeping, tangled up in his clothes. His boots lay in the grass next to him, still laced up tight. The gash in his left foreleg weeped fluid. Canyon pulled an old T-shirt out of his pack and ripped it into strips, then bandaged Timber’s leg while he slept. Timber didn’t move.
Canyon built a shelter. He gathered sticks and sharpened them like spears. After he had twenty of them, he went to eat. He dug a military MRE out of his pack and tore into it, laying each pouch of food in front of him. He ate it methodically,mostly while standing and watching the forest. Tiredness crept up on him, then pounced, making his eyes feel like lead weights. He poured the powdered coffee from the MRE into half a bottle of water and chugged it, then bounced around on the balls of his feet, getting some blood flow going and doing everything possible to stay awake.
***
Four hours later, he shook Timber.
Timber opened his eyes. His face was swollen, and he winced when he moved, curling his injured arm into his chest.
“What?” he croaked, his voice sounding strained.
I have to sleep.
“How long was I out?”
Five hours
Timber jumped up, holding his arm. “I’m up, it's your turn.”
There’s an MRE for you in my pack,Canyon said. He dropped his pants and kicked off his boots. He shifted and dropped to the ground. He circled three times, laid down, on the warm spot where Timber had been, and was asleep immediately.
Timber woke him up in late afternoon, looking even worse.
“Give me two hours,” he said.
