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Good job, kids.
So, my boys aren’t exactly known for their suave jaunts. They’re little kids. They’re clumsy and they’re messy and they’re a little bit wild.
That’s fine.
I walk in that direction, heading away from the camp.
“Silas!” I yell into the darkness. I listen carefully, but there’s nothing. “Sebastian!”
Still nothing.
I don’t know whether yelling out for my kids is a good thing or a bad thing. There might be wild animals out here. There might be creatures that could hurt me, but I just can’t seem to care. I have to find my kids.
When I planned this camping trip, it was supposed to be a chance to get away from the chaos of my normal life. I work a lot and my job as a writer takes up a lot of my time. Even when I’m home with the boys, I know that I tend to drift off into “writer mode” more often than I should.
This trip was supposed to be a chance for us to just get away and spend time together.
I parked over at the lodge, purchased a few supplies, and the kids and I walked the rest of the way up here on a little path. The campsite we chose has been cleared and is perfectly tailored to families. There’s no running water or public bathroom or anything like that, but there’s a fire pit and it’s got beautiful views.
My kids are a bit
young to go camping, and a few of my fellow writers mentioned concern when I said we were going off to camp near Storm Haven, but come on.
I just wanted to live a little.
Well, now I guess I’m living a little more than I should have.
I’m walking in the opposite direction from where I parked. This is unfortunate because I’d love to just get in the car and drive away and find someone to come up here and help me. Surely there are troopers and outdoorsy-people who can help find a couple of little kids.
But what would I say?
“Um, excuse me? My kids changed into little bears and ran away?”
Uh, yeah.
That sounds like a really fast way to die a slow and painful death in a sanitarium.
“Silas!” I call again. “Sebastian!”
It’s getting colder, and I’m starting to feel even more afraid. I’m walking through the woods, and I’m following their tracks, but it’s chilly out here. How far did they go? Where did my kids wander off to?
I don’t like knowing that the two of them are out here by themselves. They’re much too young to know how to stay safe at night in the woods and I...
I’ve really failed them.
A heavy weight seems to settle on my chest and it’s so painful that I don’t notice the animal watching me at first. Its eyes are tracking me, but it’s not for a full minute after I notice those two blinking eyes that it really registers just how much trouble I’m in.
A wolf.
There’s a wolf.
And it sees me.
At first, I keep walking. I can see it watching me from the brush, but there’s at least fifteen feet between us. Maybe if I keep walking, it’ll realize that I’m not a threat, and it’ll go away.
Only, I’m not stupid, and I know that there’s no way this is going to end well for me.
I swing my flashlight toward the wolf, illuminating it. It steps from the shadows of the brush and starts walking toward me. It’s taking its time, I realize. It’s moving slowly, and I know why.
