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It poured. Torrential, thunderous downpour. One of those freak Minnesota rainfalls that come on quick and dump on you, complete with wind and dark skies.

Woofarine was completely unaffected. He barreled on, pulling at his leash, soaking wet and plowing through puddles.

We’d been in it for ten minutes with no sign of stopping when Larissa nodded to a break in the trees. “Look!”

It was an outhouse. I had never been so happy to see a creepy dilapidated restroom in the middle of nowhere.

We ran for it and stumbled inside just as another crack of lightning broke overhead. I wrestled the door closed and locked it. We stood there, peering around the tiny room while the door rattled in the wind.

It was just as disgusting as you’d imagine. Concrete floor with scraps of toilet paper on it, an empty roll on the dispenser, a used tampon applicator in the corner. Flies and spiderwebs and a snakeskin. Woofarine darted for the tampon applicator and I heaved him up by his harness seconds before contact and held him against my chest while he struggled to get free.

Larissa stood there, two short feet from me, water dripping off the ends of her hair. She slumped with her back against the wall and pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and wrung it out. “So,” she said, watching Woofarine snap at a fly. “You think we’ve officially trauma bonded by now or do we need to find a dead body or something?”

“There’s probably one in that toilet.”

She burst into laughter. I laughed too.

We were soaked and sunburned. We had at least two more hours of walking, water that tasted like grape blood, no food, a homicidal dog wriggling in my arms for the chance to eat a discarded menstrual product. The room literally smelled like shit. Even after everything that was this fucked-up, unbelievable day, all I could think was how I wouldn’t change a thing. Not what I’d told her about Mom. Not getting lost. Not even that Mike didn’t come.

Especially that.

10

LARISSA

Eleven miles,” lexi deadpanned.

“Yup,” I said, filling ketchup bottles.

“I’d be so damn pissed,” she said, shaking her head over her sugar packets. “Nobody forces me to exercise.”

“I don’t know, it was kind of fun, to be honest.”

She made a face. “Fun how? You just told me about grape blood water, snake entrails, and the restroom from a Saw movie. It sounds like a ritualistic sacrifice, not a fun day out.”

I laughed. “Chris is nice. I don’t mind hanging out with him.”

“Ha. I bet. So how’d you get out of the woods?”

“In one piece. I came out sunburned, wearing his shirt.”

She paused with her hand on a sugar jar. “He gave you his shirt?”

“Yup,” I said, starting on the salt and pepper shakers.

“What was he wearing?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. My backpack so I wouldn’t have to carry it.”

She shook her head. “I find that so attractive,” she said. “Acts of chivalry in survival situations. That and when a man can chop vegetables super fast. It just really does it for me.”

“Hmm. I like when a guy has big hands and he holds a small baby animal,” I said.

“When a guy can build a house. Or back up a semi.”

“Guys who can work on cars,” I said. “That moment when they slide out from under it on the thing with the wheels.”

“That’s a gooood one. Once I fucked a guy because he had marionettes. You know, the puppets with the strings?”