Chapter Sixteen
Whit added to the back firewall after dinner, fearing the night would be noticeably colder than it had before.
Then she built up the fire and joined Abby in the shelter.
They said good night and settled in, and to Whit’s amazement, Abby pressed her back into her again, as she’d done the night before at Whit’s request. Whit turned into her and apprehensively enveloped her in her arms, waiting to see if Abby would protest. But Abby merely snuggled into her and sighed as if content.
Soon her breathing grew deep and slow, and Whit knew she was asleep.
It wasn’t long until Whit’s eyes grew heavy as well and sleep came as easy as Abby’s steady breaths.
When Whit woke, she blinked against the darkness and fought confusion.
She was on her back and someone was in her arms, head resting on her chest. It took a few moments before she realized it was Abby, and that they were in their shelter, in the middle of the wilderness.
She lifted her head and saw dawn’s early light peeking through the door.
Gently, she shifted out from beneath Abby and pushed open the door to crawl outside.
The air was cold and crisp, and heavy with moisture.
A frost had settled and she hurried to get the fire going.
Then she managed the smoker and checked the fish.
They looked good, ready to go. She removed one from the rack and set it on the stump.
Then she left camp to go relieve herself but froze when she saw fresh tracks on the frosted ground.
She rushed back to the smoker and removed the branches to count the fish.
She counted once, came up short, and then recounted.
Damn it, she was still short by four fish on the bottom rung.
She looked to the tree line. Had Boyd returned? Why? He had plenty of fish. Was it just to fuck with them?
She followed the tracks, which were once again large and nondescript, into the woods, and noted that they weren’t headed north.
They were headed east. If it was Boyd, he wasn’t trying to escape back to civilization.
He was headed somewhere else, possibly somewhere close by.
She considered following the trail, but remembered her conversation with Abby.
She couldn’t just take off. And they had plans to leave anyway, she couldn’t afford to waste time hunting down a madman.
That’s what Boyd was in her book. A madman.
Anyone who stalked two lost souls in the woods and continuously stole from them for kicks, was seriously touched.
She quickly relieved herself and walked back to camp, her clothes slightly damp from her brief hike in the frosty fauna. Abby was standing at the fire, warming herself and picking the pine needles from her flaming red hair.
“Morning,” she said, sounding like death warmed over.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“I was warm, so that’s a plus.”
Whit picked up the fish and settled in next to Abby on the stump. She placed the dried fillet on the hot slab to heat it up some more before lifting it to tear apart. She handed a brittle piece to Abby.
“Wanna try?”
Abby took the fish and took a small bite. She chewed a while before she spoke. “It’s good.” But she sounded far from convinced.
Whit chuckled. “It takes some getting used to.”
Abby sipped some water and ate quietly. Whit watched her, waiting for her to complain, but she didn’t.
“So, are we ready to go then?”
Whit swallowed some dried fish. “Pretty much.”
“Did you ever make a basket for the fish?”
“I made a rope for the lid to the pot, so we’ll just put the fish in there and I’ll carry it over my shoulder.”
“Will it all fit?”
“I’ll break it up.” And with four whole fish missing, it was going to be much easier to fit everything in the pot. But she didn’t mention that to Abby. She wasn’t sure exactly what to say. They should just leave and head north, and let whoever it was continue on eastward.
“Drink up and I’ll fill up the water bottle before we go.”
They sat for a few more minutes, eating and drinking before they rose to kick out the flames.
Whit took the water bottle to the creek and filled it to filter.
Then she returned to camp and got busy breaking down the smoker and removing the fish to break apart for the pot.
Abby helped, packing the pot full. They nibbled on the small remainder before Whit latched on the lid and secured it with the rope she’d made out of vines.
Then she put out the fire for the smoker and placed her hands on Abby’s shoulders.
“You ready?”
“Yep.”
Whit nodded once. “Okay then, let’s do it.
” She took the undershirt she’d used as an ice pack for Abby and tucked the pot inside it and slung it over her shoulder like a burlap sack.
She’d dried the fabric by the fire overnight and planned to use it again for Abby if they stopped near a water source.
Whit led the way, with Junior’s compass in her palm and Abby close behind.
They talked for the first hour, about random things, careful not to slip on the heavily frosted ground as they walked.
Abby started off okay, walking at an average pace, but then began to slow about two hours in.
By the fourth hour, she was in obvious distress and Whit halted near a large Sitka spruce and encouraged her to sit.
“I can keep going,” Abby said, leaning on the trunk.
“Rest,” Whit said, placing the water bottle and pot on the ground.
“We’re making good time, so there’s no reason to stress your knee.
” She glanced around, listening keenly for the crunch of footfalls of someone following them.
“I’m going to go pee.” She headed off for the brush, back the way they came, to double-check for Boyd.
She backtracked a short distance, and listened as she peed.
But she heard nothing. Saw nothing of suspect.
She pulled up her pants, cast one last look behind her, and walked back to Abby.
“You okay?” Abby asked, settled at the base of the tree, her creamy face crimson from the cold and exertion.
“Yeah, why?”
“You were gone awhile.”
“Just checking things out.”
“Find anything good?”
“Nah.” She roosted next to her and let out a long sigh of relief. Her legs were tingling and she couldn’t imagine how Abby’s knee must be feeling. “How bad are you hurting? From a scale of one to ten?”
Abby laughed. “I don’t know, Whit.”
“No, come on, tell me. Honestly.”
“Twelve.”
“Really? Shit.”
“But it doesn’t matter. We have to keep going.”
“It does matter. I’m worried about you.”
Abby shrugged. “Not much we can do.”
“We can go slower.”
“Yes, we’ll probably have to, unfortunately. And I’m sorry about that.”
“Hey, no apologies. You’re injured. That’s not your fault.” She nudged her. “Okay?”
Abby nodded but looked solemnly down at her hands.
“And no sadness,” Whit said. “You’re doing great. Just look how far we’ve already come. We’re four hours in and we’ve made huge progress.” She handed her the water bottle and Abby took a few sips. Then Whit did the same and traded out the bottle for the pot. “You hungry?”
“We need to save it.”
“We can have a bite.” She gave her a small chunk and shoved one in her own mouth. “It tastes better when you’re tired and hungry.”
Abby jammed the piece of fish into her mouth and chewed with her eyes closed. She held her hand out for the water bottle to which Whit complied.
“That bad, eh?”
She nodded and sipped the water, swallowing loudly.
“Sorry,” Whit said, taking the bottle back.
“It’s okay. It’s food and that’s all that matters.”
“Hopefully, we’ll come upon some more berries or mushrooms.”
“That would be nice. I really like those salmon berries Boyd—”
She grew quiet as if she’d said something wrong.
“I like those, too,” Whit said. “They’re good.”
Abby looked at her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring him up.”
“You can talk about him.”
“I don’t want to. He—stole from us and it was all my fault.”
“Abby, it wasn’t—”
“No. It was. I fell for his charm and he took advantage. End of story.”
Whit stared into her green eyes, saw the determination and the guilt, and decided to drop it. She simply patted her hand and looked off back into the brush.
After a few minutes of sitting in silence, a bustling sound came from the direction they’d come. Whit slid out her knife and stood, telling Abby to stay behind her.
“What is it?” Abby whispered.
“Shh.” Whit took a few steps toward the noise. Something or someone was definitely walking through the woods. Her heart thudded, beating in her ears, and her palms were coated in sweat, causing her to readjust her grip on the knife.
She was just about to call out, to warn whoever it was to back off, when a deer broke through and froze, black eyes focused on her. Whit relaxed and smiled.
“Oh, my, God,” Abby said from behind.
“Shh, don’t move.”
The deer stared at her for a long moment before it bolted, running back into the woods. Whit laughed as she walked back to Abby.
“You looked really scared,” Abby mused.
“I was for a second.”
“Did you think it was Boyd?”
Whit tried to hide the surprise she felt at the question. “No, not especially.” She flushed again at the lie.
Abby studied her closely, her gaze skimming up and down Whit’s face like she was searching for any sign of deceit.
Whit didn’t like the scrutiny, and she broke away, needing another excuse to change the topic before she fled.
“We’ll see a lot more wildlife before it’s over with,” she said, once again picking up the pot and undershirt to sling over her shoulder.
“I’d like to see more deer,” Abby said, extending her hand for Whit to help her up.
Whit did and they stood for a moment, face to face, inches apart. Whit tried to control her breathing, but her heart rate had increased tremendously.
“I’m sure we will,” Whit said. “See more deer.”
“Good. I look forward to it.”
Whit swam in her warm gaze. “Me too.”
More rustling came from behind and Whit turned to see three deer crash through the brush and dart away. She heard Abby gasp in delight.
“As I was saying,” Whit said with a laugh.
Abby leaned on her, laughing as well. “That was nice, but I could do without the shit getting scared out of me beforehand. Don’t they come with some sort of warning?”
“’Fraid the rustling was the warning.”
“Jesus,” Abby breathed, palming her heart. “I thought a giant was breaking through the woods.”
Whit steadied her and brushed her hair away from her face. “Ready?” she said again.
Abby nodded and Whit led them onward, checking the compass once again to make sure they were headed north, leaving the darting deer and anything else that may or may not be lingering, behind.