Page 28 of Wandering Wild

“Correct.” He sends an approving smile over his shoulder. “But while we can last some time without food and shelter if needed, the one thing we absolutely will need—and soon—is water.”

Under her breath, Charlie pleads, “Oh God, please don’t let him say we have to drink our own pee.”

I grimace, fully agreeing with her.

“That means we need to find a water source,” Hawke continues, leading us around a fallen tree trunk as he searches for a clear path forward, “and the best hope for us to do that is to travel downward and look for a creek or stream.”

“Not to state the obvious,” Charlie says, “but we’re hiking up, not down.”

“Not everything is as it seems when you’re in the wild, Charlie.”

There’s a pause, before she replies, “Maybe so, but I’m pretty sure my thighs are telling me we’re on an incline.”

Hawke chuckles. “Keep that sense of humor. You’ll need it in the coming days.”

“Sense of humor?” she mutters, low enough that I doubt Hawke can hear. If he can, he ignores her to share more about our environment, but whether it’s for us or the audience, I’m unsure.

“An interesting fact about this national park is that it’s made up of different kinds of forests—rainforests, wetlands, woodlands, heathlands—but over eighty-five percent is covered in what’s called a ‘dry sclerophyll forest,’ which is a group of tall trees growing close together, mostly of the eucalyptus variety.” He pats one as we walk past. “These eucalyptus trees are widely considered the reason behind the ‘Blue Mountains’ name, because the high levels of oil they emit create a blue haze when looking at the mountains from a distance.”

“That’s great and all,” Charlie says, her voice as dry as the forest we’re walking through, “but what does it have to do with us finding water?”

“Forests need water to grow,” Hawke answers, “so we just need to listen to nature and it will show us where to go.”

Listen to nature? I repeat the words in my mind, before reminding myself that I have two tasks over the next four days: to show the world I’m not the reprobate they’ve come to believe, and to survive this trip so I can reap the rewards. Both of those things rely on me yielding to Hawke’s wisdom, even when he says things that would normally make me raise a skeptical eyebrow.

Charlie, it seems, is having similar doubts. “And, um, if nature doesn’t want to... talk to us?”

“She always does, to those who pay attention,” Hawke says sagely, his dark eyes amused as he swivels his neck and notes the looks on our faces. “And speaking of, watch your step.”

Right as he says it, a lizard as long as my arm ambles coolly across our path. I jerk to a stop, half expecting Hawke to pull out his iconic hunting knife and say we’ve found lunch.

Instead, he crouches down to watch as the reptile slowly disappears into the scrub. “I was hoping we’d see one of these,” he says, clearly pleased. “It’s a monitor lizard—also known as a goanna. There are around thirty different species of them in Australia alone, with the largest reaching over eight feet in length.”

I peer into the bushes, wondering if we’ve just seen a baby and its giant-sized parents will be appearing next. I almost say I didn’t sign up forJurassic Park, but Charlie speaks before I can.

“I’ve seen a lot of goannas in my life,” she says, sounding dubious, “but none have been anywhere close to eight feet.”

My gaze remains fixed on the bushes. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

She doesn’t disagree, though she does add, “Fun fact for you non-Aussies: goannas have been known to accidentally mistake humans for trees.”

I try—and fail—to envision that. “What happens if they do?”

She shrugs. “What do all lizards do with trees? They climb.”

I consider the size of the massive-but-nowhere-near-eight-feet reptile we just saw and shudder at the idea of it evenattemptingto climb a human.

“So if a goanna ever runs at you,” Charlie continues, “act like it’s a bear and lie on the ground.”

“That doesn’t work with all bears,” Hawke warns. “Only grizzlies.”

I jump in as if I know what I’m talking about. “Haven’t you heard the saying? ‘If it’s brown, lay down. If it’s black, fight back.’”

“Don’t forget the last part—‘If it’s white, goodnight,’” Bentley calls from behind his camera. He’s been keeping mostly silent, maintaining his role of invisible cameraman. “Pray you never come across a polar bear in the wild.”

Charlie glances uneasily between us all. “The fact that you have a rhyme for how to react to different bears is alarming. How many attacksdoyou have in your respective countries each year?”

“Not a lot,” Hawke answers, “but plenty of close calls, especially where I grew up in Western Canada. That said, it helps to think of bears like you would sharks—we’re the ones invading their homes. They mostly want to leave us alone.” He returns to his feet, gesturing to where the lizard vanished. “It’s a shame to let that monitor go since it’d make a good meal, but goannas are a protected species in Australia, so they’re off limits outside of life-and-death circumstances. And besides, we don’t want to be carrying the extra weight for what’s coming next.”

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