Page 45 of Wandering Wild

“The weather?” Hawke guesses, his dark eyes flicking toward the now menacing-looking clouds coming ever closer.

“The wind changed direction, so we’re going to be hit head-on,” Scarlett reveals. “They’re saying it’ll be heavy, but it’ll also be fast. It should be clear again by morning.”

“That’s something, at least,” Hawke murmurs, his arms crossed, his gaze thoughtful. “We’ll be fine on our end—we’re only hiking for the rest of the afternoon, and once we’re further up the mountain, we’ll find a cave or an overhang for shelter. But I assume you need to pull the crew back?”

“If we don’t, we’re likely to get flooded in,” Scarlett confirms. “We’d be all right if the vehicles were handling the terrain better, but adding in the amount of water the forecast is predicting?” She shakes her auburn head. “We need to backtrack to find somewhere safe to wait it out. But that also means we’ll need extra time to reach you tomorrow once it clears, so you’ll be on your own for a while. Probably until late afternoon, maybe early evening. Worst case and the rain is heavier than expected, or it circles back, or the flooding doesn’t recede fast enough—if any of that happens, we might not be able to meet you until you reach your extraction point on Friday. If that’s the case, can you manage alone for the next two days?”

She’s looking at Hawke intently, as if communicating something silently to him, but all he says is, “We have everything we need, so focus on keeping the crew safe and don’t worry about us.” He wipes fig juice from his beard before adding, “You know we plan these trips so the support team is only there for emergencies—we’ll just make sure we don’t have any of those.”

Hearing his confidence, I wonder what constitutes an “emergency,” and whether nearly being bitten by one of the most venomous snakes in the world counts. Apparently not, since he doesn’t even mention it to Scarlett.

“Just take care of our guests,” the producer says, sending strained smiles to Charlie and me. “You two doing okay?”

Even with Charlie aware of the cameras on us, I’m a little worried about how she might respond, so I jump in first. “We’re tired and sore, but it’s also exhilarating. Right, Charlie?”

Her lips stretch into a bright—and painfully fake—smile as she chirps out, “Superexhilarating. We’re having thetimeof ourlives.”

I have to look at the ground to keep from laughing—or grimacing—but I glance up again when a freckled young man appears out of the trees, panting and red-faced and carrying his own climbing gear. But he’s also carting more than that, since he moves first to Bentley to hand him a new set of camera equipment—weatherproof, I assume—and then to Scarlett to give her a familiar silver box.

The man disappears again, leaving Scarlett to explain, “We’ve had to take the nano drones out of commission.” She indicates the box. “Remember how I said they’re prototypes? Well, they’re not waterproof yet, so with the coming weather, we can’t risk damaging them. But that’s fine—we’ll reactivate them when we meet up again after the rain clears. Until then, Ben will capture all the footage we need.”

“I haven’t seen the nano drones since we left,” Charlie muses, and I nod my agreement.

“Perfect—that means they’re doing their job.” Scarlett pockets the box, then looks at her watch and frowns. “We need to get back down the mountain. All set, Hux?”

“Good to go,” the safety checker confirms, returning Hawke’s pack after having examined its contents. “Everything important can get wet if needed.”

“And you’ve got your sat phone if there are any problems,” Scarlett reminds Hawke.

“There won’t be,” he says, making a shooing motion. “Now go find somewhere safe and dry. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Scarlett and Hawke share a long look, one I can’t read, before the producer turns to Charlie and me, her smile still strained as she says, “A little bit of rain never hurt anyone. It’s all part of the experience, so live it up, and embrace the adventure.”

My brow furrows as she and Hux give us parting waves and disappear back into the trees. It’s a strange thing for her to have said, given that we’re already nearly halfway through our “adventure.” But I shake off my apprehension and hoist my pack over my shoulders in preparation to leave, trying not to think about how much rain might be heading our way—or how difficult it’s going to make our journey ahead.

About an hour after Scarlett and Hux leave, gentle sprinkles start dusting my heated skin. It’s not unpleasant at first, since our hike up the mountain is arduous, so the wet offers a cool relief. But then the rain starts coming down in earnest, and while my outerwear and backpack are waterproof, they still have their limits. I’m soon soaked to the bone and feeling twenty kilos heavier, battling for every upward step.

Hawke finally calls a halt to our waterlogged hike when the downpour becomes so torrential that our visibility is nonexistent, increasing the risk that one of us—likely me—will slip straight off the side of the mountain. I nearly sob with relief when he finds a small cave cut into the rock and declares it’s safe enough for us to camp in for the night.

The first thing we do is change into the spare clothes our backpacks miraculously kept dry. Privacy is limited, but I’m shaking so hard that even if Zander, Hawke, and Bentley didn’t all turn around while I dressed, I wouldn’t have been able to care. I make quick work of it, then busy myself while they do the same, wringing out my clothes and searching for a place to drape them.

The cave is small and dark—darker still because of the rainstorm and the approaching dusk. I worry about how we’re going to see anything once night falls, forgetting that I’m with Rykon Hawke, who has plenty of experience starting fires even when everything is saturated. Indeed, he soon has roaring flames heating up the space around us.

“You’re my f-favorite person in the w-world,” I say through chattering teeth as I collapse in front of the delicious warmth, my hands stretched out in an attempt to coax some feeling back into them.

“Normally I would have had you or Zander light it, but given that you’re turning into an icicle, speed was of the essence,” Hawke says wryly.

It only takes a few minutes before the fire begins to work its way through me, and soon my trembles ease and I’m feeling much more human again. Even so, every part of me hurts after what we’ve endured in the last two days, and I’m exhausted beyond belief. If I were home right now, I’d curl up in my bed and sleep for the next twelve years—but onlyafterenjoying a steaming hot bubble bath.

Zander takes a seat beside me on the ground, his wet hair sticking up all over the place, making him look more anime-like than ever. I don’t have the energy to laugh, but my lips quirk, drawing a curious glance from him. I shake my head, too embarrassed to share my thoughts aloud.

“I collected this on our walk,” Hawke says, revealing a bunch of flowered weeds. “Wood sorrel. It’s not much, but we’re in short supply of any heartier food up here, so dinner is this, berries, and figs.”

I try not to show my delight that we don’t have to eat another native animal, but at Zander’s quiet chuckle, I know I failed.

Hawke just rolls his eyes at me and hands out bunches of sorrel, saying, “It’s a versatile weed—you can eat the flowers, stalks, and leaves, cooked or raw, and all of it will provide good roughage and an excellent source of Vitamin C. It also has a fresh, lemony flavor.” He winks. “It’ll make you feel like you’re eating a hundred-dollar salad at your favorite Michelin-star restaurant.”

Zander lifts his bunch to eye level and stares pointedly at the clumps of dirt still attached to the roots. “I would want my money back.”

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