It’s a sound I’ve heard before. In the forest. In the dark. When someone very large is upset.
A jolt of adrenaline shoots through me.
Birds explode out of nearby branches, squawking indignantly. A squirrel darts up a trunk at warp speed. The hair on the back of my neck rises.
Sam’s head snaps toward the noise.
“What was that?” he says sharply.
“Probably just a tree shifting,” I say too quickly. “Or, uh, a rockfall. Or… something.”
Smooth, Elias. Very smooth.
Sam narrows his eyes, scanning the trees. “Sounded like an animal,” he says.
“Could be,” I say. “Elk. Bear. Moose with a sinus problem.”
He doesn’t look convinced. My skin prickles. Somewhere out there, I know Boone is listening. Watching. Probably regretting whatever involuntary noise just escaped him.
Because let’s be honest: That was jealousy.
The realization makes my face even hotter.
I gently disentangle my arm from Sam’s grip, trying to make it seem casual, not panicked. “Thanks,” I say. “Gravity and I are having an ongoing disagreement. I’m fine.”
“You sure?” he asks.
“Positive. See? Upright. Functioning. Only mildly embarrassed.”
He grins. “It’s cute.”
I ignore that, because my brain is currently chanting,Boone, please stop making dramatic forest noises while I’m trying to lie to government employees.
The forest has gone quiet in that charged way it does after a disturbance, like everything is waiting to see what happens next.
Sam’s hand hovers near his radio. “If you want, we can circle around,” he says. “Make sure there’s not an injured?—”
“No,” I cut in, perhaps a little too forcefully. “I mean, I appreciate it, but I’m okay. And I have work to do. You know how it is. Data waits for no one.”
He studies me for a long second, then sighs and lets it go. “Fine,” he says. “But keep your radio on. And if you hear that again and it sounds closer, do not investigate alone. Call us.”
“I won’t investigate,” I lie.
He gives me a look that says he knows exactly how likely that is.
We walk a little farther together, but I’m clearly jittery, and he has actual patrolling to do. At the junction where the trail veers toward my station, he slows.
“This is you, right?” he says.
“Yeah,” I say. “Home sweet station.”
He tips his hat. “Guess I’ll see you before you vanish to your mysterious comparative forest.”
“Okay,” I say.
He hesitates for a breath, like he’s weighing saying something, then just smiles and turns back toward HQ.
I wait until he’s well out of sight. Then I pick up my pace. Then I run.
