“Okay.”
He heads off to the car, but I linger for a moment longer, staring back at the crystal shop, wondering if I missed something.
There aren’t supposed to be wolves around here, just like Jasper said.
But what if he’s wrong?
JOSHUA TREE
We head out early, just as the sun is peeking above the horizon. The morning air is dry and cool, but the day is already warming up—in no time it’ll be sweltering. I shrug my heavy backpack over my shoulder and wait for Jasper to finish locking up the house. Before bed last night we made snacks and sandwiches to take, and packed our camping gear, a small gas burner, a few changes of clothes, our sleeping bags, our new pop-up tent, the lantern, and the satellite phone.
Even though it was still dark when I dressed, I’m pretty impressed with my camping outfit: a blue tee, cargo shorts, hiking boots, and a red neckerchief that adds a little flair and will—I hope—catch the sweat that’s sure to be pouring down the back of my neck in no time.
“You ready?” Jasper asks, reaching for my hand. I take it and we leave the house behind, heading off into the desert.
“I thought we’d have to drive somewhere,” I say, stepping over a rock that could be a camouflaged lizard.
“This property backs onto the national park,” Jasper says. “I know the way.”
“How come we still got a map?”
“In case I forget. I used to know the trails like the back of my paw. But I haven’t been here in a long time.”
Jasper’s eyes glaze over and he picks up the pace a little. I drop the subject.
As we approach the first large boulder formation I glance back at the way we came. The house is already a dot on the horizon; two more black dots just beside it must be the SUVs belonging to our security team. We’re leaving them behind, along with the rest of civilization and all of wolfkind. Maybe I should be more apprehensive or worried, but the satellite phone is strapped to the side of Jasper’s bag. And it’s not as if we’re doing anything too crazy or out of the ordinary. People camp around here all the time. I take a deep breath. Already my head feels clearer. We’re finally going to be alone, away from wolves and stress and distractions.
I take a second to let the walls I’ve built up around my mind drop slowly, bracing for the impact of some pinlike presence stabbing at my brain, but nothing comes. I exhale and let my guard down completely. My shoulders drop. In fact, my whole body feels like it lets go of some tension it’s been holding. My limbs feel light as I swing my free arm—the one Jasper isn’t holding the hand of—back and forth, my legs feel springy, my stomach is unclenched, and my lungs are full.
“Excited?” Jasper asks, potentially sensing my whole-body exhalation.
“I am.”
For the next three hours we hike and hike and hike. As the sun rises and the heat increases, I wipe the constant beads of sweat from my brow. My springy legs are starting to feel the burn as we navigate our way down dusty trails, and into the rocky hills. But I don’t hate it. Traversing the large rock formations feels like walking along the back of some giant dinosaur skeleton. It’s exciting and feels good.
My blood is pumping, the toxins are leaving my system, my muscles are earning their keep. And the landscape is ridiculous. I’ve never seen rocks like these, so smooth and undulating, sticking up out of the ground like fingers. Between rock formations the earth is littered with grassy shrubs, sharp and lopsided Joshua trees, and a whole host of cactus varieties. It’s dry and hot, but it’s such a nice change from the city and the lush greenery of the woods near where I live. I could be on an alien planet for how different it all seems. And I like that idea—the idea of being as far away from real life as possible.
Jasper stops at the top of a rise and pulls out his water bottle. “Here,” he says, offering it to me first.
I take it and gulp down the refreshing liquid, letting it water my insides like a desert rain.
“Thanks,” I say, handing it back.
“We should stop for lunch soon.” Jasper surveys the surroundings like he’s trying to get his bearings. “I think I know a good spot.”
For almost another hour we continue our trek, heading into more mountainous territory. Climbing an ascent after this much walking is hard, and I’m huffing by the time we reach a plateau. Jasper stops and turns to take in the view.
“This is perfect,” he says.
I turn as well and my breath catches in my throat. Before us the desert rolls out as if it goes on forever. The sky is a clear, deep blue overhead, the cool tone contrasting with the warm yellows of the earth.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say.
Jasper leaps up a couple of boulders until he’s reached the highest spot and sits, his legs dangling over the edge. He dips into his pack and pulls out our premade lunch. I follow him up, although less gracefully, and pull out my sketchbook.
“Do you mind if I draw this?” I ask.
“Take your time,” he says, handing me a sandwich then leaning back to chomp on his.
