Page 70 of Wandering Wild

“Humble, too,” I say, grinning back at him. My relief that we’re clear of the tunnel, that we’resafe, has me feeling as light as a feather, like I could conquer anything. I shake my head and look in the direction from which we appeared, saying with awe clear in my voice, “That was incredible.”

Zander stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “If by incredible, you mean the opposite, then sure.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” I say, still looking toward the tunnel entrance. “I’m going to wake up with night sweats about this for the rest of my life, but...” I bite my lip and admit in a quiet voice, “It’s kind of amazing, what we did. Don’t you think?”

Zander just keeps staring at me, before pressing his hand to my brow, checking my temperature. “What I think is that you must have swallowed some of the bacteria-laced water and now you’re running a fever. The delirium has already set in.”

I shove his arm away, unsure whether to laugh or scowl. I settle on rolling my eyes. “You know what I mean. We’ll look back on this one day and be proud of ourselves for how we survived. Forwhatwe survived.”

“That’s not a ‘one day’ thing—I’m proud of us now,” Zander says. “But we’re not in the clear yet. We still have one of Hawke’s obstacles left, and we’re down to”—he checks his watch—“less than three hours to go.”

A whole new kind of fear fills me.

“We need to hustle.”

“We need to hustle,” he confirms.

Part of me wishes we could stay in the shallows of this ethereal cavern for longer, just to revel in its beauty. Another part of me—admittedly, a much larger part—wishes Zander would wrap me in his arms again, this time closing the distance between us in a way that I so desperately yearn for. From the looks he keeps giving me, I know he wants the same, even if I understand why he’s holding back: because if all goes to plan, in three hours we’ll be on our way back to civilization, and tomorrow we’ll be returning to our lives—separately. Starting anything now would only end in heartbreak.

But watching him as he exits the water and holds out his hand for me, I can’t help wondering if maybe it would be worth it.

“You coming?”

I startle at Zander’s question, realizing I haven’t moved, and he’s still waiting with his hand outstretched. At his arched eyebrow, I quickly wade forward to join him on dry land. I’m tempted to kiss the ground for how grateful I am to be standing upright again, but I resist the urge and instead hurry with him across the cavern, following the sunbeam spearing down from the open roof until it leads us through a gaping chasm in the rock wall. And then, suddenly, we’re outside again, the canyon behind us as if it never existed.

Zander halts as we’re about to step back into the encroaching forest and checks the compass on his watch. “Northwest is this way,” he says, gesturing to the left.

I pull the waterlogged map from my drenched pocket, grateful that its wax coating has kept it from becoming a pulpy mess after everything it’s endured over the last few days.

“I think we’re here.” I indicate the dotted line leading out of what I assume is the topographical mark for the canyon, before tapping the black circle. “And here’s where we need to be by five o’clock.”

Zander peers over my shoulder. “If the scale is right, we still have a few miles to go.” He squints at the map. “I can’t tell for sure, but itlookslike we only have forest between us and the final river Hawke said we have to cross”—he presses his finger to the meandering waterway—“so hopefully it’ll be smooth sailing from here to?—”

I slap my hand over his mouth to stop him from finishing. “What did I say about not jinxing us?”

He smiles beneath my fingers, his eyes bright with mirth. “Sorry,” he says, the word muffled against my hand.

Feeling his lips move on my skin, electricity sparks all the way up my arm, causing me to shiver. Zander notes my reaction and his eyes change, a different, more heated light entering them as he looks knowingly back at me. I remain suspended for a moment, trapped in his gaze, until I remember where we are and how far we still need to go. I quickly—albeit reluctantly—lower my hand and clear my throat, before refolding the map and zipping it back into my pocket.

“Let’s hope you’re right and it’s just forest—and let’s also hope it’s all downhill,” I say, my voice slightly hoarse. I hate the effect he has on me, almost as much as I love it. It’s becoming impossible to deny how much I want to explore what’s building between us, but we’re on a rescue mission with the clock ticking down, and if ever there was a bad time to consider anything, it’d be now. Zander seems to realize this as well, since the heat leaves his eyes and his face turns serious as he glances in the direction we need to travel.

Together we venture back into the forest, our pace as quick as we can manage without risking tripping over rocks and roots, or slipping on moss and lichen. We’re so near to the end of our journey now, and neither of us can afford an injury. If we don’t get to the extraction point in time... if we miss the helicopter’s arrival... if we can’t tell anyone what happened and send help to Hawke and Bentley...

The fears spiral around in my mind as we hurry through the trees, our steps swift enough that we’re soon panting, sweaty messes and mutually agree to take a short break. We haven’t eaten anything since before we entered the slot canyon, and now that the adrenaline from the underwater tunnel has faded, I’m growing weak from hunger, so it comes as a relief when we find a small clearing with a fallen log we can sit on to catch our breath.

“Choose your poison,” Zander says, pointing to a lilly pilly bush and a vine full of wombat berries.

I go straight for the wombat berries, causing him to chuckle. I meant what I said earlier—as grateful as I am for the lilly pillies keeping us alive, I’ll be happy to never see another one after today.

We’re side by side on the log and munching in silence when Zander asks, “Do you remember when Ollie was filming his promo questions and he asked what we’re most looking forward to once we get back?”

I swallow my mouthful and nod, even though I can’t recall what answers we gave, just that we were in fake-it mode for the sake of the cameras. How far we’ve come since then.

Zander continues, “What would you say now, if Ollie were here and asking again?”

I think about it for a moment, unable to decide between clean clothes, a hot shower, washing my hair, a flushing toilet, a warm bed, food that we don’t have to forage or kill, and all the other basic comforts that I’ll never take for granted again. But I don’t think that’s what Zander’s really asking, so I give it deeper consideration, before finally answering, somewhat hesitantly, “I guess I’m most looking forward to figuring out what’s next for me, especially after everything I’ve come to realize about myself while on this trip.”

Zander pops another berry into his mouth. There’s a gravity to his expression that I don’t understand—or maybe I’m just too afraid to read into—when he asks, “Any thoughts on that yet?”

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