Briar snickered. ‘Alright back there?’
They were in a single file line, with Sierra leading the group. Most of the counselors had headlamps strapped to their foreheads that glowed red, bright enough to see the ground, but not bright enough to disturb any of the wildlife.
‘Yes,’ Alice said, her voice wobbling. Briar had made sure Alice didn’t get a headlamp. All the more fun to hear her stumble. ‘I’m justsoglad we were able to go through with this illegal endeavor.’
Hiking at night wasn’t strictly allowed in the state park, but it was a common enough occurrence that the park rangers had taken to leaving the park gate unchained.
‘Anyone know a good ghost story?’ One of the younger counselors called from further up the line. Briar smiled – she couldn’t have planned anything more perfect to spook Alice.
‘Sierra does,’ came Freddie’s voice. He was bringing up the rear, making sure everyone stayed together.
‘You guys want to hear about somebrujeria?’ Sierra’s voice echoed against the boulders.
Alice groaned pitifully and Briar’s smile widened.
They passed the next hour or two with counselors swapping stories they’d heard around the campfire. Many of them Briar already knew, but there were a few spooky additions. It had been years since she’d been a counselor, and she’d forgotten the sense of camaraderie and fun that came with the job. In her counselor days she would’ve been the one coming up with the entertainment for the hike. It had always been her thing, keeping morale alive.
Now, she felt ancient, disconnected from the carefree girl she’d once been. Being back here, it was like she was haunted by the younger version of herself. The one that hadn’t lost her best friend to another continent, the one who hadn’t had a dying mother to take care of, the one that still had a future to plan for. She envied them, like she envied everyone who made their way through the world trusting that everything would be fine without constantly thinking of the worst-case scenario.
‘Fuck.’ Alice crashed into her, her foot catching on Briar’s heel and nearly taking her shoe off. ‘Sorry.’
Briar hissed as pain shot up her leg. ‘It’s fine.’
Alice’s hand shot out, and Briar could sense it hovering above her shoulder before it disappeared.
It took another half hour before someone suggested singing, which was met with groans and followed by a half-hearted rendition of ‘Country Roads’. Briar listened for Alice’s slightly off-key voice but could only hear heavy breathing from behind her.
Light crept back into the world. The earth slipped into wakefulness, starting with one bird call, and then another, until the sky was full of song. Everything was tinged blue, like a lens had been put over the world, giving it a magical appearance.
Briar would often be the first one awake at camp, stealing precious moments of peace in the early morning light before the chaos of the day caught up with her. It was a trait she’d shared with her mother.
They finally reached the rock scramble that signaled the final stretch before the peak – and the trickiest part of the trail. Two boulders met, creating a small crack for hikers to wedge into and climb. There were footholds to balance on, but reaching the overhang required relying on upper body strength. It was a difficult feat for anyone of below average height.
Briar always found this part unpleasant. As the shortest of the group, she had never managed to ascend it by herself. Alice moved ahead of her, scrambling up with no issues. Briar held in a huff of annoyance.
Alice turned around, her arms outstretched. She did it seemingly without a second thought, and Briar remembered how Alice was always the one to help her up this particular spot. She swallowed, unsure if she was more upset about forgetting the small detail or that she had to relive the memory now. The realization that she’d never resented Alice’s help when it came to things like this hit her the hardest. It was something she would never let herself have with her friends now.
She got into position, the balls of her feet perched in the footholds, her whole body straining upwards. She ignored Alice’s outstretched hand, using the momentum from her legs to jump for the overhang. Her fingertips grazed the edge, but not enough for her to find purchase. As she fell back, Alice’s hands caught her forearms, holding her midair. Briar’s head snapped towards her, taking in the look of concentrated effort as Alice struggled to hold her. Briar found another foothold and pushed off it, feeling Alice guide her arm until her elbow wedged itself in the next divot, and she could lift herself up the rest of the way. It didn’t escape her notice how Alice’s hands never left her body.
Briar shook her off and stood, trying to erase the feeling of Alice’s skin, slick with sweat, against her own. She pushed ahead of Alice again, not meeting her eyes, the places where she had touched burning under her clothes.
They reached the peak just as the sun was coming out over the horizon. Briar watched silently as sunlight crept across the valley below, cutting through the trees. As she took in the vast stillness of the world below her, an overwhelming sense of loss crept in.
These were the woods her mom had loved, the ones she had uprooted her life for. There was no way for Briar to be here without seeing her mom everywhere, seeing the years of memories she’d made with her family.
Her eyes pricked and she squeezed them shut, trying to stop the tears from falling. Grief had the ugly habit of showing up at the most inopportune moments.
‘Alright,’ Freddie called, shucking off his backpack. ‘Who wants coffee?’
Briar brushed a hand over her face, happy for the distraction, as Freddie and Sierra passed around metal cups and thermoses for people to serve themselves.
The rock face they sat on was cold without the sun beating down on it. Briar shivered, gripping her cup of coffee gratefully for warmth. The group chatted around her, but she couldn’t focus on any of the words, her eyes drawn to the woods below. She tried not to think about her mother, but not thinking about her was impossible.
‘Here.’
Alice leaned over her, a down jacket in her hands. ‘I brought an extra, just in case.’ Briar stared at the jacket, annoyed. No matter how many years had passed, Alice would always be the kind of person to pack an extra layerjust in case, and she’d always be the person sitting out in the cold. She couldn’t take the jacket and admit weakness, that much was obvious. Another shiver racked her body and Alice rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, this won’t make us friends or anything.’
‘Fine.’ Briar pushed her arms through the sleeves of jacket, feeling immediately warmer. ‘Thanks.’
