Good boy.
I take a step back, letting the sound of my retreat crunch deliberately—still heavy, but fading. Enough to be believable.
Elias is panting so hard I can hear each inhale. His sweat carries the sharp tang of adrenaline, the metallic edge of fear. I hate it. But I’d hate losing him more.
When I’m far enough away, I climb the nearest cedar with practiced ease, settling onto a broad branch where I can still see his tent through the needles. He’s crouched inside, shaking, gripping the sat phone like a lifeline.
I should feel ashamed. I should feel conflicted. I should feel… something.
Instead, I feel relief.
Relief that he’ll survive today. Relief that he won’t try to hike while dizzy and half blind. Relief that I can stop hovering like some lovesick forest cryptid for at least a few hours.
And yes—annoyance that his first instinct wasnotto ask for help.
He groans softly, lies back down, arm thrown over his eyes. His breathing slows. Calms. Stabilizes.
Good. Maybe he’ll sleep.
I lean back, arms folded, tailbone pressed against rough bark. “You’ll thank me later,” I mutter.
A raven lands on a nearby branch, tilting its head at me like it knows exactly what I’ve done.
I glare at it. “What? It worked.”
The raven gives a judgmental croak.
“Oh, shut up.”
An hour passes.Elias sleeps while I sit and listen.
It’s easier now that I’m not actively trying to prevent his death. The forest sounds normal again—wind sweeping through branches, water chuckling over stone, distant woodpeckers arguing with cedar trunks.
He stirs occasionally, murmuring in his sleep.
At one point, he whispers, “Don’t… fall…”
And my chest contracts painfully.
“I won’t,” I whisper back.
I can’t help it.
Eventually, the tiny hum of static and a distant helicopter rotor reaches my ears long before Elias hears anything.
Good. Ranger extraction incoming.
I stay in the tree until the rescue team is close enough that I can see their bright jackets between the trunks. Two humans, moving with steady purpose. One of them—tall, confident gait—is Gladys.
Of course she came herself.
I retreat deeper into the forest, keeping downwind. I watch from a safe distance as they find Elias—groggy but alive—and help him sit up. He gestures vaguely toward the woods, explaining something. Gladys’s face hardens.
She scans the woods with sharp eyes. She pauses and looks directly toward where I was an hour ago.
I go still.Did she?—
No. No. Humans can’t see through shade that well.
