Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Ava
Hunter picks me up at exactly ten a.m., pulling into my driveway with a huge smile on his face.
"Morning," he says when I hobble out to meet him, still relying on one crutch for balance. "How's the ankle?"
"Much better. I can almost put all my weight on it." I demonstrate, and while there's still a twinge of discomfort, it's nothing like the throbbing pain of two days ago. "See? I'll be back to full fieldwork capability in no time."
His expression suggests he has opinions about my timeline, but he wisely keeps them to himself. "Good. But we're still sticking to accessible sites today. No rough terrain."
"Yes, sir." I give him a mock salute that makes his lips twitch.
He helps me into the passenger seat with unnecessary but appreciated care, storing my crutch and field bag in the back before climbing in himself.
"So where are we going?" I ask as we pull out of the driveway.
"I thought we'd start with Clearwater Creek. It's about fifteen minutes from here, easy access, and the water quality is excellent. Then maybe Silver Springs if you're feeling up to it. That's a bit more of a walk, but still manageable with your ankle."
I pull out my field notebook, flipping to the map I've been creating of the area. "Clearwater Creek... is that the tributary that feeds into the main watershed about three miles north of where I was the other day?"
Hunter glances over, looking impressed. "You've done your homework."
"I like to know the lay of the land before I start collecting data. It helps me understand how everything connects." I study the map, mentally triangulating the locations. "If the contamination is waterborne, tracking it through the tributaries should help me identify the source."
"Smart." He navigates a curve with easy confidence. "Though I should warn you, Clearwater is pretty remote. If there is contamination, it's not coming from any obvious human source nearby."
"Which makes it even more interesting. Natural geological processes can sometimes leach unusual minerals into the water, or there could be abandoned mining operations that aren't on any modern maps.
" I'm already getting excited about the possibilities.
"Either way, it'll give me another data point. "
We drive in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the landscape growing progressively more wild as we leave Parkerville behind. I watch the scenery pass, noting the shift in vegetation, the way the deciduous trees give way to more conifers at higher elevations.
"You really love this, don't you?" Hunter's voice breaks my observation. "The research, I mean."
"I do. There's something satisfying about piecing together how systems work, understanding the connections that most people never see." I turn to look at him. "Don't you feel that way about the land you manage? Seeing how all the pieces fit together?"
"Yeah." His voice is warm. "Yeah, I do."
We turn onto a dirt road that quickly becomes more path than road, the 4Runner handling the rough terrain with ease. I grip the door handle as we bounce over a particularly deep rut.
"Sorry," Hunter says, slowing down slightly. "Should've warned you it gets bumpy."
"It's fine. I've been on worse field access roads." Though not many, if I'm being honest. "How much further?"
"About a mile. The road ends at a small clearing, and then it's just a short walk to the creek." He glances at my booted ankle. "Very short. I promise."
True to his word, when we park and make our way down a gentle slope, the creek appears within a few minutes. And it's beautiful.
The water is crystal clear, burbling over smooth stones in a series of small cascades. Sunlight filters through the canopy overhead, creating dancing patterns on the water's surface. The banks are thick with ferns and moss, and I can see several plant species I want to document.
"This is perfect," I breathe, already pulling out my sample kit.
"Take your time. I'll be here if you need anything." Hunter settles onto a large boulder nearby, looking completely at home in the wilderness.
I work methodically, collecting water samples at different points along the creek, documenting the pH and temperature, photographing the plant life. I'm so absorbed in my work that I almost forget Hunter is there. Until I notice something odd…
I'm crouched by the water, carefully labeling a vial, when I hear him say, "There's a deer about fifty yards upstream. She's watching you."
I freeze, listening intently. I can't hear anything except the creek and the rustle of wind in the trees. "How do you know?"
"I can hear her moving through the underbrush." He says it casually, like it's perfectly normal to have hearing that acute.
I straighten slowly, scanning the area upstream, and after a moment, I catch a glimpse of brown fur between the trees. She's there, just like he said, a doe watching us with alert but not frightened eyes.
"That's impressive hearing," I say carefully.
Hunter shrugs. "You get used to listening for things when you spend as much time out here as I do. Wildlife, weather changes, people who might need help."
It's a reasonable explanation. And yet, I've spent plenty of time in the wilderness myself, and I've never developed hearing that good. I file the observation away and return to my work, but now I'm paying attention.
A little while later, I'm trying to identify a particular fern species, squinting at the fronds in the dappled light. "I wish the light was better here. I can't quite make out the spore pattern."
"Here." Hunter moves closer, standing just behind me. He points to a spot about ten feet away. "There's another cluster over there, in direct sunlight. Same species, I think."
I follow his direction and sure enough, there's an identical fern in a patch of full sun. I take my photographs and samples there instead, but I'm mentally calculating. The original fern was in deep shade, the fronds a dark green that blended into the shadows. How did he spot it so clearly?
By the time I've collected samples from five different points along the creek, my mental catalog of Hunter's unusual abilities has grown considerably.
His hearing borders on superhuman, picking up sounds I can't detect even when I'm actively listening for them.
His vision seems equally acute, spotting details in low light that I miss even with my glasses.
He navigates the terrain with absolute confidence, never stumbling, never hesitating, even on loose rocks or uneven ground where I have to pick my way carefully.
His sense of direction appears flawless, requiring no compass or GPS, just an instinctive awareness of where he is in relation to everything else.
And he keeps tracking the wildlife around us, knowing their locations and movements with an accuracy that seems impossible for someone relying on normal human senses.
"Find everything you need?" he asks when I'm packing up my samples.
"More than I expected, actually. This site is going to be really valuable." I secure the vials in my bag and turn to him. "Thank you for bringing me here. I never would have found this on my own."
"My pleasure." He offers his arm for support as we make our way back up the slope, and I take it, grateful for the assistance even though my ankle is feeling much better.
His arm is solid muscle under my hand, warm through his shirt, and I'm suddenly very aware of how close we are. How good he smells, how the dappled sunlight catches the red highlights in his hair.
"You okay?" he asks, and I realize I've stopped walking.
"Fine. Just taking in the view." It's not a complete lie. The forest is beautiful. Even if that's not exactly what has my attention at the moment.
We make it back to the 4Runner, and Hunter pulls out a cooler from the back. "Hungry? I packed lunch."
"You packed lunch?" I can't hide my surprise.
"Well, my brother made it, but I asked him to come up with something for us." He opens the cooler to reveal sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, fresh fruit, and what looks like homemade cookies. "He's very excited about you coming to the party this weekend."
"I haven't said yes yet," I point out, but I'm already reaching for one of the sandwiches. "I said I'd think about it."
"Rachel says that's the same as yes." Hunter grins. "And honestly, Caleb is already counting on you to be there foodwise, so you might as well commit."
I unwrap the sandwich—turkey and avocado with some kind of amazing aioli—and take a bite. It's delicious. "Your brother is a really good cook."
"He is. It's kind of annoying, actually. Makes the rest of us look bad." Hunter bites into his own sandwich. "Growing up, family dinners were always this production. Multiple courses, everything made from scratch. I can barely boil water without supervision."
"Somehow I doubt that." I've seen the first-aid kit he carries, the way he navigated that rough terrain, the confidence with which he handles everything. "You strike me as someone who's competent at pretty much everything you try."
"Competent, maybe. But not passionate about it the way Caleb is about cooking or you are about your research." He leans against the car, his long legs stretched out in front of him. "I'm good at what I need to be good at."
"And what do you need to be good at? Besides land management?"
He's quiet for a moment, and I get the sense he's choosing his words carefully. "Taking care of people. Protecting them. Making sure they have what they need to thrive." He glances at me. "It's kind of a tradition."
"That's a nice way to think about land management."
"It's more than just the land." He turns to face me fully. "It's the whole community. Making sure everyone is safe, that conflicts are resolved, that the territory." He stops abruptly. "That the area is protected from outside threats."