Page 67 of Wild Child
I pointed behind us. "Notthosemountains. But this range winds around a lot. We could skirt basins or inadvertently turn up the wrong canyon. It would take us deeper into the forest.”
He nodded reluctantly. "True."
I sighed and pushed my frustration back. This wasn't Devin's fault. My short temper was probably more hunger and dehydration than anything else. Still, it rankled me that we couldn’t find our way. Me, the adventure guide. Him, the Marine.
"Keep following the stream?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Let's see what happens. If it's the right stream, we may be able to find another hiker by nightfall."
* * *
The onset of twilight—and a dwindling stream bed with no lake or familiar landscape to be found—brought the simmering grumpiness in both of us to an ugly point. Cool air descended as the sun disappeared. My sweat-soaked clothes would be miserably chilly in no time at all.
Dried sweat, salt, and dirt made my shirt stiff as the sun melted beneath the trees and pulled darkness in her path. No longer did I fear Kimball or Steve. They were long gone from my mind, because who could have followed us here? We were in the middle of nowhere. Now, I feared only myself.
Had I been arrogant enough to think that I knewallof these mountains? That I was ready to be an adventure guide at twenty years old? All the quiet trudging and silence had given me more than enough time to think about why I insistedthisbe my life. I still hadn't figured it out, and that seemed like an uglier conclusion.
What was I trying to prove?
Mountains had always been tricky. Terrain that looked familiar could change within a few steps and a different angle. Ravines were always deeper, or ridges higher, or summits hid other bigger summits. But getting knocked down a peg didn't feel great—not on an empty stomach. It spurred bigger questions I wanted to answer even less.
Did Ireallywant this for the rest of my life?
Devin stood at the edge of the narrow stream we’d followed all day, hands on his hips. Deepening lines of concern cluttered his face now. At some point, it seemed like one of us should have pointed out the obvious—this stream wasn’t going to empty into a lake. Looking back, I couldn’t pinpoint a single moment that seemed like the best time to make that call.
"We're going to run out of water," I said.
My throat felt dry from the hot air all day long. It baked off the rocks and surrounded us in a sticky, hot embrace. We'd slowed significantly the past several hours, and I tried to convince myself it was to conserve strength, not for utter lack of energy. The last time we'd eaten had been at lunch yesterday, so we wouldn’t die of starvation soon.
It justfeltlike it.
Devin didn't say anything, just changed his gaze to stare out at the trees. Usually, by now, we could expect to see some sign of the reservoir in the distance. That alone would tell us where to go, but all we faced now were hills of craggy rocks and a thick forest.
Where had we gone wrong?
The question lingered in the air between us, which had grown with tension the last several hours. Perhaps he blamed himself while I blamed myself and, meanwhile, neither of us really knew where to go. While we didn't argue, our friendly questions and banter had long since quit, and we spoke in single-word replies more often than not. Devin's occasional mumble to himself set me on edge. Was he slipping into a hallucination the way he warned me? But when I tuned in, it always ended up a mutter about a shoelace that wouldn’t stay tied.
"I think we should stay here," I said as I struggled to sit on a boulder. I put my head in my hands and relished the lack of movement. "We sleep and recover for the night, then make the decision on what to do next in the morning."
His jaw tightened. “That is one option,” he said in a diplomatic tone that meant he didn’t like it. “But if you can push through, I think we should go farther. There's a chance . . ."
He faded away. A chance that we’d find something other thanthis? The same backdrop we’d stared at for days now? Not knowing what to say, I let the conversation drop. We sat there for several more minutes before he dropped next to me on the boulder like a bag of rocks.
"I just want to get out of here," he said.
"Me too."
"Then let's keep walking on this path and see where it takes us."
I groaned. My feet already felt like splitting apart and so did my legs. Sleep would at least take me away from the gnawing hunger and anxiety of our unknown location. Another hour of walking would only take us into the exact same terrain and hopelessness we'd wandered into all day.
“Disagree,” I said with equal firmness. “We're tired, lost, and I don't think we should make decisions right now."
"We're going to be tiredandhungry in the morning."
"We're hungry now," I snapped.
He let out a forced breath. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. We're both tired. I just . . . I don't know what to do anymore. We should have backtracked and found our original camping spot. It was the freshest path in our mind and might have been the smartest.”
