Page 50 of The Perils of Pretending
I flash Mom an appreciative smile.
Out of nowhere, the same loud cow-like bellow we heard during the family photo shoot comes from the trees to our left. I look around, trying to locate the moose. Is it Captain Big Rack? There’s no way, out of the hundreds of thousands of moose in the state, that this would be the same one from the lodge half an hour away—by car—from here.
We come around a bend and almost smack into Max, Brody, and the guide. They’ve stopped, waiting for a moose (whose head is poking out of the trees like he’s a living mounted trophy hung with a wreath around its neck) to retreat.
I peek around Brody’s shoulders, trying to get a glimpse of the moose. I suck in a breath. I’d know those antlers anywhere.
I grab Mom’s wrist. “It’s the same moose from a few days ago,” I whisper.
Mom tilts her head, trying to see past the three men in front of us. She gasps. “You’re right! How does he know where to find us?”
I have no clue. Can moose track a scent? After this encounter, I have no choice but to do more research on this animal when we get back to the lodge. “Magic.”
Mom grins amusingly at me, knowing how much I love fantasy novels. “You know that look he’s wearing? It reminds me of Dad’s discipline face.”
I smile back. However Captain Big Rack found me, I’m incredibly happy to see him. “Maybe Dad’s been reincarnated as a moose?”
“Or he’s temporarily inhabiting the big guy as a way to watch over his little girl while she completes the list he made for them to do together.”
Warmth expands my chest. “I love that idea.”
“Me too,” Mom says.
“Dorian, go to the back of the group,” I instruct.
“You don’t truly beli—”
Captain Big Rack trumpets his displeasure. His head pokes farther out of the trees. I can almost hear his voice in the same threatening tone Dad used as principal, saying, “I swear if you make me come out to where you are, there will be consequences.”
Dorian throws his hands up in the air, turns around, and walks away.
I grin triumphantly. If I were brave enough, or in a romantasy novel, I’d reach out and pet my bodyguard moose to say thank you. But there’s no way I’m getting close to Captain BR. Instead, I mouth, “thank you,” and bob my head in his direction. If there weren’t multiple witnesses to substantiate my story, I wouldn’t believe that a moose kept me safe. But here we are again, and I am beyond grateful for Daddy Big Rack.
The giant lets out a huff through his nose as if saying “you’re welcome,” then pulls his head back, the trees springing back into place, concealing him.
“All right, folks, keep calm, and let’s keep walking!” the guide says.
I blow a kiss in the direction of my moose as we hike past his hiding spot. I don’t know if he sees it, but I want him to know how grateful I am for his help.
We continue for a few more minutes, the foliage getting thicker the farther in we go.
“This is where you’ll find the most wild berries,” the guide shouts, pointing to bushes on either side of the trail. “Please don’t go too far off the path and do not go wandering by yourself. Just around the corner is a river if you want to make your way in that direction.” He checks his watch. “We’ll head back at 3:45. I’m here if you need anything.”
The bush to my left is heavy with a berry I’ve never seen before. It looks like an inflated pomegranate seed hanging from a tender, thin stem. The leaves are greenish yellow. “What kind is this?” I ask Max who is already picking fruit.
“Watermelon berries. Try one, they’re sweet.”
I pull one off the stem and pop it into my mouth. As I chew the fruit, watermelon teases my tastebuds. There’s even a tiny crunch just like a watermelon seed. My eyes go wide in shock that there are two fruits that taste so similar. “Those are amazing!”
Mom and Brody each put one in their mouths. “Those are way good,” Brody says.
I pick up a longer branch and pull off every berry, shoving each one in my mouth.
Max laughs at me. “Slow down. You’ll get sick if you keep eating them that fast.”
“It’s worth it.”
Next to the watermelon berries, a dark blue berry grows in clusters on a bush with bright shiny leaves. “Max are these blueberries?”
