Page 3 of Wild About You

After a long silence, I hear his gruff voice again. “Do you have even the slightest clue of what to do if you actually run into a bear?”

I cross my arms over my chest. Guess he wasn’t impressed with my whole cowering-in-fear-and-threats-of-acid routine.

“Define ‘slightest clue.’ ”

Finn scrubs a hand over his short hair, and I sense I might be getting another eye roll. “With black bears, if they don’t see you, you can just back away slowly. But even if they approach you, they’re probably only curious. You try to intimidate it by holding your arms up to make yourself look bigger and making a lot of noise, and it’ll probably stop or back off, then you can back away. Worst case scenario, it starts to charge you, don’t run. That’s when you fight back, preferably with bear spray before it gets too close. Surely we’ll all be getting some with our supplies at the first checkpoint.”

I nod as I process all this information, finding it…surprisingly helpful. Annoyingly so, since he’s so grudging in giving it up. I sincerely hope I never need to use any of it, though.

“Okay, let’s practice,” I say decisively.

He looks at me over his shoulder, where I’m already standing on my tiptoes, my arms stretched high over my head. “I’m not stopping to practice this. We can’t waste time.”

I keep up the same walking pace, just doing so in my Bear Intimidation Stance. “What kind of noise do I make?”

“It doesn’t matter. Talk to it, whatever comes to mind.”

Time to test my loudest outdoor voice. “FINN’S PANTS HAVE SO MANY POCKETS BECAUSE THEY’RE FULL OF SECRETS!”

He jumps about a foot forward and I have to tamp down my giggle as I drop to walk on flat feet again.

“Was that really necessary?” he grumbles.

“I just want to be ready if the real thing ever happens. Okay, I’ve got black bears down. What about other types?”

Finn’s shoulders rise in a brief shrug, his hands coming up to grip his backpack straps. “You won’t run into any grizzlies out here. Good thing, because your best chance with them is to cover your neck and play dead.”

Oh shit. I mean, that would’ve been my strategy with any bear before this conversation. But it isn’t encouraging to hear.

I can feel my heart wanting to gallop away and I try to take deep, calming breaths. That’s when Finn gasps.

“What?!” I whisper-yell. Before he says anything, I realize the path we’ve been walking meets another, much more well-trodden trail. Finn takes an abrupt left turn onto the new trail, giving a little pump of his fist at his side.

“See that?” he says, half-turning so I can see where he’s pointing. On the side of the new trail is a tree marked with a slash of white paint. I nod in answer. “That means we’re on the AT now. The Appalachian Trail.”

I’m about to respond that I know what AT stands for, thank you very much (even if I didn’t a few weeks ago), when I hear it. Voices carry to us faintly. When I peer past Finn, I see a break in the trees ahead and the vague, blobby shapes of people milling around.

“Well, hell if I’m not a better navigator than the disembodied voice of Google Maps Lady herself, huh, Finn?” I quicken my steps to walk beside him and keep pace with his longer stride, batting my eyelashes even though he doesn’t look at me.

“Sure,” he says.

“Now, now, calm down. I don’t do it for the glory. All in a day’s work for a humble woman of the wild such as myself. We all have different gifts to offer the world, and it just so happens that mine is the gift of being right all the time. You’ll get used to it.”

“I hope not,” he replies woodenly.

I laugh as if he’s made the funniest joke as we step into the clearing, and a bunch of heads turn our way. Cameras, too, as we approach the group of people around our age standing in a semicircle, facing a bright orange flag with the Wild Adventures logo on it.

It’s real. Our first checkpoint.

Beside it and only slightly less orange in appearance is the host of Wild Adventures, Burke Forrester. I’m determined to find out if that’s a stage name before I leave. Finn and I approach, a big smile splitting my face involuntarily. I steal a glimpse at Finn only to find his expression totally neutral, which I guess is the perpetually frowning person’s version of a smile.

“Natalie. Finn. Welcome to the AT! I see your paths crossed on your way here—forming alliances already?” Burke’s high-pitched voice is…not the same as it is on TV. It doesn’t match the faux-tanned, burly-but-polished exterior, that’s for sure. Is there such a thing as auto-tune in reality TV editing?

Snapping myself out of it, I give him a cheesy grin and say, “No such thing as too many friends!”

At the same time, Finn utters a flat “No.”

Well then.

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