Reyva raised her eyebrows.
“Very large squirrel?”
Whatever it was, it hadn’t jumped out to kill them, so that counted as a win in Claire’s mind. “Keep going,” she said to Reyva. “You almost had it.”
“Ooh, how about you try holding the tinder against the rock?” Mariana said. “That way, if you get a spark, it won’t poof in the air before it has a chance to catch.”
It was a good idea.
Hands shaking a little, Claire extracted a fluff of cotton from the tinder pile, and Reyva held it with her thumb against the quartz as she hit it with the blade. A spark jumped off. Simultaneously, the blade snapped at the base.
Crying out, Reyva dropped it.
Claire’s heart fell with it. So close!
“There’s a second blade,” Reyva said. “I’ll keep trying.”
Reaching out, Claire put her hand on Reyva’s wrist. “We might need it.” If they had to gut a fish or... She tried not to finish imagining the reasons why they might wish they had a knife. She glanced again at the woods. Her mouth felt dry, and she swallowed.
Keep it together, she reminded herself.It’s a puzzle to solve. That’s all.
The trees were blowing harder now, brushing up against one another. Over the wind, it would be even harder to tell if anyone were approaching. The pines and spruces creaked and groaned as they swayed. It looked even less friendly than it had before, if that was possible.
“Now what?” Mariana asked.
“Not giving up,” Reyva said. “How about rubbing sticks together?”
“It’s supposed to be really hard to do,” Claire said. “But we can try.” She checked her phone. It was already three p.m. She’d hoped to have begun their hike hours ago. They’d wasted so much time already on the knife and rock, but what choice did they have? No matter how many times she did the math, they’d need drinkable water to survive the trek.
She spared another glance at the trees.
“How hard can it be?” Mariana said. “You just spin a stick, right?”
Claire selected the driest chunk of wood from their stack, and she used the broken blade from her Swiss Army knife to dig a small hole. She then wrapped the broken blade carefully in one of her socks and tucked it into her backpack, using a side pocket so she wouldn’t accidentally slice herself. “Idea is to create enough friction. Reyva, hold the tinder bundle next to the hole.”
While Reyva held the cotton steady, Claire stuck one end of the stick in the hole, held it between the palms of her hands, and rubbed her hands back and forth to twist the stick.
Watching over her shoulder, Mariana asked, “Do you actually know what you’re doing?”
Continuing to twist the stick, Claire thought,No.Out loud, she said, “Seen it on TV. Of course, I’ve also seen brain surgery on TV. How to pilot a plane. And how to defeat an alien invasion. So, you know, this will probably fail.”
After a few minutes, Reyva said, “My turn.”
Claire sat back. Her palms felt raw. She examined them and saw they were red and indented with knots from the stick. Scooting back, she gladly let Reyva take a turn.
Kneeling, Reyva twisted the stick faster than Claire. “Distract me. Talk.”
“How about we get to know each other?” Mariana suggested in a bright, sunny voice, as if they were hanging out at a Santa Monica beach instead of... here.
Claire tensed. This was exactly the kind of conversation she preferred to avoid. Maybe they could talk about TV shows? Or the weather? Or...
“Let’s start simple: What’s everyone’s favorite color? Mine is pink. But not the kind of sweet pink that parents who are irrational about gender identity like to use to swaddle babies. I like the obnoxious neon pink that feels like a punch in the eyes.”
She relaxed minutely.Thatlevel of getting-to-know-you she could handle.
“I like black,” Reyva said.
A tendril of smoke curled up, and they crowded around it. Claire scooted the tinder bundle closer—and the smoke died. Her heart sank.
