Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“It’s just common sense,” I say as I help Rolf down. “C’mon. It’s not that long a hike, but we want to be settled before sundown. Let’s move.”
As I nudge my dog down the walk, Talia scampers to catch up with me, watching me like a small animal that doesn’t have the good sense to be afraid of a wolf.
“Why sundown?” she asks.
“Nightfall. That’s when the Jacobins swing into gear,” I tell her. “We want to be concealed and silent before they show up.”
She’s suddenly much quieter.
“Oh,” she whispers.
Yeah.
Oh.
With nothing else to say, I lead her off the path and into the woods bordering my property. Rolf’s collar jingles as he leads the way.
Without Talia noticing, I move a hand behind my back and flip off the crows.
I wasn’t expecting this to turn into a field trip.
Normally, it’s purely tactical when I’m out here alone.
Scout out where the Jacobins have set up shop, find a good vantage point, and settle in out of sight. I enjoy the activity, and Rolf loves the chance to scamper through the leaves before quiet time.
I’ve gotten so used to our routine that I rarely stop to notice the beauty of the North Carolina forest.
Talia Grey seems determined to notice nothing else.
Breathless and sparkly-eyed, she has as much curiosity as Rolf, wandering off the barely visible trail to gush over a field of peonies buzzing with fat bees. Or stopping to stare at a massive canopy of spiderwebs arching over the path, dozens of spiders building it communally between the trees and filtering the light into misty veils.
Everything leaves this woman endlessly fascinated, from the redheaded woodpecker hammering away, to a tiny spring erupting between stones, to the way the trees form a canopy spinning sunlight into glitter.
Now and then she’ll pluck a plant and come tumbling up to me, asking me what it is.
Wood anemones, maidenhair ferns, swamp milkweeds.
She seems as amazed by them as she is by the fact that I know them on sight.
Good thing I made a point of learning the local vegetation in case anything happened to me out here alone and I had to rely on herbs for medicine.
Around noon, I catch her just before she reaches for a patch of leafy doom.
“Not that,” I say sharply. She freezes, still reaching for the three-lobed leaves. “Not unless you want rashes for days in places you never want to itch.”
“Oops!” She backs away guiltily. “What is it?”
“Poison oak.” I point at a break in the trees, just past the poison oak patch. “Head through there. There’s a creek coming up on the map. We’ll break for lunch.”
“Oh, thank God. My calves are killing me.” But she laughs as she says it.
I wonder if she remembers why we’re even out here.
I don’t have the heart to remind her.
She nearly dances through the trees, whirling around the poison oak and disappearing from sight.
I speed after her, slipping through the hanging branches with Rolf. We step out into the sunlight on a narrow open valley cut through the forest, right where a creek—barely five feet wide—runs through it with a narrow dirt shore on both sides.
Talia’s already halfway down on the shore, following the slow-moving water. She stretches her arms over her head before she turns to me with a sunny smile.
“Here?” she calls up—then stops, clapping her hands over her mouth, dropping her voice to a dramatic whisper. “Wait… do I need to be quiet?”
Damn her.
My mouth twitches.
How is it she takes everything so seriously, yet at the same time never quite seriously enough?
“Not yet. As long as there’s daylight, we’re ordinary hikers.” I make my way down the slope toward her, unclipping Rolf’s leash from his harness before lightly slapping his flank. “Go on, big boy. Have some fun.”
With a joyful bark, he leaps toward the creek with the energy of a pup half his age and goes splashing into the shallows—to the dismay of several frogs sunning themselves on the stones. They plunge underwater in a croaking panic.
Talia laughs with delight.
“He likes playing in the water, huh?”
“More than a steak.” I unsling my pack and set it down on a large log. “Go ahead and set your stuff down. I’ll show you how to make a fire.”
With an eager sound, she complies.
She’s an attentive pupil, I’ll give her that, watching me closely as I show her how to pull up grass to make a safe fire circle and how to find good tinder to keep the fire going.
Before long, we’ve got ourselves a real fire with a teakettle simmering. A pot with some chili and vegetables boils while flatbread toasts on my small foldout grill.
Talia sits across from me on a log, watching the food cook with hungry anticipation.
I try like hell not to stare.
Her hair is autumn fire in the middle of summer, the color of bright leaves.