Chapter Five #2
“I don’t know, but I have to try. There is a hatchet in the survival kit. If I can make it back down, I can cut small branches off the tree, throw them up, and we can make pine knot torches.”
“What are those?”
“They are torches that can burn for hours.”
“You know how to make them?”
“I do. I was a Boy Scout. Ever read The Hobbit?”
“No.”
I smile as I look down at her hand that is still in mine. “Not enough smut for you?” I smirk as I only shift my eyes up and raise one eyebrow.
She laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t just read smut.”
“Well, that book is porn on paper.”
“That book is beautiful!” She grins.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t, but it’s not Bilbo Baggins and the thirteen dwarves sneaking around the tunnels in the Lonely Mountain, trying to figure out a way to steal back the dwarves’ treasure from Smaug the Dragon.”
She throws her head back in laughter while now grasping my hand in both of hers. “No, it’s not.”
I went back to the ridge that nearly killed me, ascending down the same path I climbed up.
I had no idea if I was going to make it, but I had to try.
The terrain that had crumbled beneath me created a gentler slope, although it was still extremely steep and risky.
I slid down and over to the tree where I chopped off several branches.
They had to be thick enough to keep a torch burning, but light enough for me to throw up and over the ridge, and for Amanda and me to carry for endless miles.
We sit in front of the fire in silence, with the weight of tomorrow’s journey in our bones.
With the hatchet, I prepare both ends of the torch stave by removing the bark.
On the knot end, I cleave the wood into four sections and stuff twigs towards the base of the split, which keeps its mouth open.
I drop fatwood shavings in abundance into the opening.
I craft torch after torch, feeling like a warrior sharpening their blades the night before battle.
Amanda’s focus shifts back and forth between the hatchet in my hands, shaving and whittling, to my face.
The firelight illuminates a certain tenderness in her features, and a lump forms in my throat.
When I finish the last torch, I lay it on top of the others, neatly piled, deceitful and orderly, nothing like the journey we are about to embark on.
She inches closer so her thigh brushes mine, and our gazes collide.
My pulse thunders in my ears as I stare down into the eyes of a woman I didn’t know two weeks ago, but now, they feel like home.
We are two damaged strangers who trust no one but are trusting each other.
She fixates on my mouth, and a sharp breath escapes me as this foreign emotion pricks my eyes.
She closes hers and rests her head on my shoulder as I turn my palm up, and she lays her hand in mine.
This is more than just our fingers weaving together; maybe our hearts are, too.
The next morning, we leave our crash site, both wearing backpacks filled with essentials and food.
I have tied the ends of the tarp to the straps of mine so I can drag the firewood, torches, first aid supplies, blankets, pup tent, cushions, and sleeping bags behind us.
They are secured with bungies and are a heavy load to drag, but I don’t want Amanda helping me on her injured leg.
She still limps with each step, but I am confident her injuries at this point are healing, and it’s just a matter of pushing through the pain.
I reinforced her brace last night to give her maximum support for this journey.
Our plan is to carry one torch always lit for protection against the wolves.
If we are aware of their presence, we’ll light another so we’re both armed.
We also have access to our spears, but I’m hoping we won’t need them.
Judging by the direction and the amount of time we were in the air, we determine the best chance of finding civilization is to travel the route we came, northwest, instead of the direction we were moving.
There would be more mountains going forward, so we decide to backtrack.
We’ll rest when needed and utilize the shelter of the tarp and pup tent against the elements, always keeping the fire burning through a torch.
When we pass trees, we can collect more wood.
We still have lighters, and if that runs out, I know an old trick to spark a fire with a hatchet, although I hope it doesn’t come to that.
We face each other, ready to begin our journey, again in that silent understanding.
I give her a nod, which she returns, and I can’t stop myself from gently touching the side of her face.
Her eyes chase away any uncertainty. Their color reflects a soft amber, with her irises like the earth of the forest, the green in them like moss stretching over the roots of a tree.
They make me feel like we could walk out of this hostile winter and into the warmth of spring, together.
My hands frame her face, and I dip my chin and kiss her forehead, squeezing my eyes shut.
Her hands clutch my forearms, and her body trembles before she falls into my chest and bands her arms around my waist, freezing time in this moment. “We will make it back.”
She pulls back to look up at me. “Promise?”
My bottom lip quivers, which takes me by surprise, but I don’t hide it. “I promise.”
She purses her lips together and gives me several small nods as her eyes glisten, but no tears fall. “I trust you.”
My heart swells, knowing the weight of those words and what they mean coming from her. “Thank you,” I whisper. “Let’s go.” I offer my hand, never breaking eye contact, and she takes it as I hold the ignited torch in the other.
No footsteps have yet to write a page on this snow, and maybe never will, except ours.
It’s mid-calf deep and powdery. Luck was on our side with the lighter snow, as it will be easier for Amanda to travel.
The frozen air is like lace on my skin, cold and intricately woven.
It’s clean and odorless, with no grass or leaves to smell.
No musky scent of earth beneath us, just chilled winter filling our nostrils.
There is a gradual descent for us to trek down, and the light scraping of plastic along snow follows us as I drag our supplies. “The last time I heard a sound like that was when I pulled a sled behind me as a kid,” I say.
“That’s a good mental trick. Let’s fill ourselves with excitement and pretend we are searching for the best sledding spot,” she says, breathing heavily. “Question: What have you been focusing on to keep your sanity?”
“Besides our delightful conversations?”
“Ha. Shut up.”
“I’m serious.” She shoots me a look, and I grin and shake my head. “I have been enjoying them, but I’ve also been running through removals of acoustic neuromas, AVM procedures, and complex craniectomies.”
“And here I am thinking about being a kid again and sledding.” She laughs.
We walk for two hours before I suggest that we break and elevate her leg for a short period.
She insists she is fine, but I told her it was doctor’s orders that we stop soon, and she agreed.
We are fortunate to have all the water we need from the snow and ice for her ankle.
It’s a short rest, and after treating Amanda’s inflammation, we continue our journey.
My muscles burn in a band across my back from all the weight I’m moving, and my legs are on fire.
More hours pass, and Amanda draws her injured foot behind her, so we break for a rest and lunch of a few pretzels and split a protein bar.
After thirty minutes or so, we continue our descent.
We cross onto a steep slope adorned with pine trees.
“This may be easier on your leg as you can sit and slide down.” I will have to be careful with the supplies as I don’t want to shake them loose and have them slip down the mountain.
I resecure the ropes tied to the grommets of the corners of the tarp to the straps of my backpack.
The trees are an aid in areas where it is too steep to stand upright.
It’s strange, but I’m beginning to envision them as arms reaching from the earth to hold our hands and catch us as we fall.
By sunset, we make it down the mountain, trudging across an unmarked valley with snow as beautiful as white mink, and begin our ascent up another.
We eat our late dinner, this time splitting a granola bar, as we settle in for the night under the pines.
Hunger pains tighten my stomach. I light a bonfire with the torch and keep the spears next to us, along with the flare guns and pocketknife.
I ice Amanda’s leg, change the bandage on my side, and apply more antibiotic ointment.
The wound is still healing, and there’s no sign of infection.
The bonfire is in front of the entrance to our pup tent, a natural, menacing guard.
We packed the cushions and the insulation we slept on from the plane.
It’s just as crucial to have a layer between you and the ground as it is to have one covering you.
The tent is made for one person to sleep in, so our bodies must be touching.
We lie shoulder to shoulder, and I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open.
I turn just my head to Amanda. “You did well today. I’m very impressed.
You’re pretty tough. Has anyone ever told you that? ”
She grins and looks at me. “Yeah, I’ve been told that.”
“I bet.”
“You know, instead of lying in two separate sleeping bags, it would be warmer if we opened them up and wrapped them around us, along with the blankets.”
“It would be warmer. I’m down with that.
” My response is completely in survival mode, but electricity hums through me.
We unzip the sleeping bags and roll onto our sides towards one another as heat eventually flushes through our touching layers.
Her arm is over my shoulder, and mine is over her hip.
She burrows into my neck, and my body reacts.
I angle my hips back so my dick isn’t straining against her.
“I’m sorry.” I start to pull away, but her hand secures me in place. “I should turn over.”
“You don’t have to; I just want to be near you like this if that’s okay.”
I nod my head, and our faces are close. Her eyes roam over every contour of my features, and I can hardly breathe.
The gravitation towards her is something I’ve never felt before, not only in my body, but in my heart.
She pulls her glove off and skims her fingertips just over my top lip, then sweeps them across the bottom.
Every square inch of me comes to life. My mouth wants to attack hers and feel her skin against it.
I want to drive into her until we are one person.
But I freeze. This is Amanda. Not just an ordinary woman I would go on a few dates with and use to fulfill a physical need.
I’ve started to let her in, to pry open a door that no one has ever peeked through, let alone entered.
But I could never let her through because she wouldn’t like what she saw.
That look in her eyes I could never be worthy of because it’s more than lust.