“You seriously think this is a good time to ask if I’ve got sexy heels on?” I know that’s not what he means, but I also know he won’t give me directions if I tell him I’m in bargain-bin flip-flops.
“I know you don’t. You wear flat shoes because you’re on your feet all day. Even at the wedding, you were wearing those fancy sandals.”
His insight surprises me. It’s the kind of thing a man would only notice if he pays close attention, and I’ve never been under the impression he’s cared enough to pay attention to me.
“Uh, yeah. But don’t worry about my shoes. My shoes are great for climbing steep embankments in the dark. I’m going. Is she on the move?”
I start climbing, the glow from the phone’s flashlight illuminating the sticks and clumps of unidentified organic matter covering the hillscape. My heart thumps hard as I trip and catch a skinny tree to regain my balance, the rough bark stinging my fingers. My breath must catch, because Cormac calls my name.
“Nora? Are you okay?”
The worry in his voice surprises me. I’m not used to anyone worrying about me. I’m Nora the Strong. Nora the Brave. Nora the Doesn’t Give a Shit. I’m not a person people worry about.
“I’m fine. Is she still moving?”
“Slowly. When you get to the top, you might be able to see her.” He hesitates, and I try to picture him. He’s probably pacing the hotel corridor, dressed in one of his T-shirts and maybe some boxers. He’ll have his glasses on, of course. I’ll bet he sets them on his bedside table every night.
Thinking about him calms me, the way imagining the band’s audience full of NPCs calmed him. I’m brimming with purposeas I reach the top of the ridge, which is thick with brush and dotted with skinny trees like the one that saved me. And there, several feet away, is a stout, fuzzy creature moving through the brush.
“I think I see her,” I say excitedly. “Call out her name. She’s not going to come if she thinks it’s me.”
“Itisyou.” But he’s not a bad sport, so he calls out her name a few times.
The furry thing starts moving toward me. Which is when I realize I’m looking at a wild animal. It’s cute, with a fuzzy body and a banded tail, but I would prefer not to be this close to it.
“It’snother,” I hiss into the phone. “It’s…I think it’s a raccoon. It’s got the mask and the tail. It looks like a feral Cookie.”
“Don’t walk toward it,” he practically shouts. “Raccoons are one of the most common carriers of rabies.”
“Of course I’m not going to walk toward it, genius.” I edge back, giving Mr. Raccoon plenty of space.Nothing to see here.
It turns away from me, thank the sweet baby Jesus, but as soon as it does, I spot something else moving through the brush behind it.
Oh fuck, it’s Cookie.
“I see Cookie, but the raccoon’s between us.”
“Donotapproach the raccoon,” Cormac repeats urgently. “Nora, be sensible. You might be good at talking people around, but raccoons can’t be reasoned with.”
But I’m not sensible, because the raccoon is looking at Cookie the way I’d look at chocolate-covered pretzels. Cookie, who is perhaps not as intelligent as I’ve given her credit for, has spottedmeand is moving toward me. Her little nub tail is actually wagging, so maybe getting lost in the dark was enough to endear me to her.
My heart feels like it’s going to burst in my chest, and the glow from my flashlight wavers.
What am I going to do? I can’t let her run directly into a possibly rabid raccoon, no matter how cute it would be for the two masked-faced animals to meet.
Wait…
“Raccoons are nocturnal, aren’t they?”
“Nora, get help. Don’t try to deal with this yourself, I’m begging you. I can’t get to you quickly. I know you’re wearing inappropriate footwear, and you’re going to twist an ankle or get bitten by a rabid raccoon.”
Not a vote of confidence, but it’s nice to know he’d prefer for those things not to happen.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’ve gotta go,” Cormac says abruptly, and I’ll be damned, the call cuts off.
I gape at my phone for a long moment. Did he seriously just hang up on me right before my possible death by raccoon? A wild feeling of abandonment gushes through me, and for a moment I’m paralyzed by it—incapable of anything but squeezing the phone, my heart raw and hurting. Then anger burns up the feeling, and I almost whip my phone at the closest tree.
