Page 14 of Fight Or Flight

Annoyed, Ethan dropped his shovel and walked upstream from the pond to the waterfall. He’d just make sure they left, then he could concentrate on planting without having to worry. It wasn’t that far, only a few hundred metres.

As he got closer, he finally glimpsed a person, and sure enough, it was exactly what he thought. Some woman was standing under the willow, with her long, dark hair flowing, wearing a white dress and shiny sandals.

She couldn’t have chosen a less suitable thing to wear in the woods if she tried. He imagined she chose this outfit because it would make her look like some damn forest fairy in the photo, and people would just gush over how magical it was.

What they wouldn’t see was the trip to the ER for a shot of antivenom.

“Excuse me!”

He yelled pretty loud, but she didn’t hear. She looked to be in a panic. Her back was to him; her head jerked from side to side. He went a little closer, and that’s when he saw she was holding a large stick, about the same size as her. She lifted it overhead with both hands.

“Hey!”

She stopped midair, then jerked her face at him. A second passed. He braced himself for another scream, but none came.

“Stop right there!” she said.

He didn’t want to scare her, and he didn’t want to get hit by the stick, so he did as the ridiculous woman said. He evenslightly lifted his hands, as if the stick were a gun. “You can’t bludgeon innocent animals with a stick.”

“Innocent? They’re snakes!”

“Irrelevant. Go home.”

She pulled herself to her full height, then narrowed a set of striking dark eyes at him. “You are on private property.”

“I have permission.”

“I find that difficult to believe. Are you living in here?”

He reared back from the question. Living in here? Then he remembered the state he was in, unshaven and dirty, only made worse by hauling all the trees around the pond. “No.”

“Lot of hesitation there, buddy.” She looked around at the ground, then pulled the stick back and swiped at a snake.

“Stop that now!”

“Look, I’m not judging you. I’m no stranger to being homeless myself. If you show me the quickest way out of here, I’ll get you a meal and some help, okay?”

“Good, whatever.”

He didn’t care what she thought anymore. He just wanted her out of there. He walked toward her and grabbed the opposite end of her stick. The shortest distance was past the waterfall, where the edge of the property ended at Main Street. That’s probably where she parked, anyway. These city folk get two feet inside a forest, and they’re lost.

He walked a few minutes in silence, dragging her behind him at the other end of the stick, as she yelped and squealed passing the few visible snakes, until the fence appeared. It was short enough to climb over with little effort, but after he’d hopped over, he helped her over, too. He looked up and down the road but didn’t see a car.

“Thank y—” She stopped midsentence and slapped a hand over her forehead. “The urn.”

Urn?

“Did you say urn?”

“Ugh, I can’t believe this.” She paced back and forth for a moment, eyed the forest, then closed her eyes and seemed to take deep breaths.

“Wait a minute. Who are you?”

“I’m Natalie. Will you go back and get it? It’s small, stone, under the willow tree.”

“Natalie . . . who?”

“Alvarez.”

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