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A smile spreads on Isaiah’s face, his white teeth sparkling against his tan skin. “You don’t say?”
“Ash has been collecting eggs, if he managed to find any, but the camp is only a mile to the east. I suggest we pick up and head over there to cook and settle in.”
We move quickly through the woods; excitement grows with each step. My stomach rumbles loudly again and Isaiah chuckles, “I must confess, my bear couldn’t help himself but eat a few fish fresh from the stream.”
“Lucky you, I like sushi, but I think I’ll wait to eat until we can cook some of that fish.” Silently I thank myself for thinking to buy a cast iron skillet and oil while we were at the grocery store on our way out of town yesterday, with the hopes of being able to cook more of our acquired meat and fish.
Approaching last night’s campsite, Isaiah and I exchange an eye roll as we see Ash passed out next to a bird’s nest filled with eggs.
“Ash, I didn’t tell you to steal the whole nest.” I say nudging him awake once more with my toe.
“Hey, the bird got taken down by a bigger bird. I saw an opportunity and I took it. That’s the cycle of life baby.”
Ash rubs his eyes and sits up groggily. Sniffing at the air he licks his lips when he spots Isaiah’s basket full of fish.
“Should I start a fire?” he asks eagerly.
“Not just yet, we are moving camp. I found us a little place to post up for a few days with a roof, a floor, and beds.” My eyes light up as I talk about my found treasure.
“What is this the Ritz?” Ash asks sarcastically.
“Something like that,” Isaiah grumbles tossing Ash’s rucksack at him. “Pack up. I want to get this fish cleaned and cooking while it’s still fresh.”
Later that evening in the warmth of our glowing little respite, I catch a whiff of another scent. A scent that fills every fiber of my being with the most intense longing I have ever felt.
“Do you smell that?” I ask.
Asher and Isaiah take in deep breaths and look my way.
“Smells like someone is coming this way,” Isaiah says taking another deep breath, “they seem to be less than a mile away, near the riverbed.”
My eyes widen, neither of them seems to notice just how wonderful this scent is, just how tantalizing… Every one of my hairs stands on edge as I take in the scent.
“It’s probably just a solo hiker passing through, I don’t think there’s any need to worry, the scent doesn’t match any of the scents I’m picking up from this hunting shack.” Isaiah continues.
“I am going to investigate, you two keep your eyes and ears peeled in case we run into any trouble.” I caution.
As I slink off into the night, I can’t seem to control the erratic beat of my heart with every step I take toward the scent of the woman along the riverbed. Fear mingles with her natural musk, as I pick up my pace.
Is she afraid of the dark or is she running away from something… or someone?
Chapter 4
Madison
I’ve been following the riverbed for days, at least this way I know I’ll have water to keep me alive. All this aimless wandering is starting to get to me.
The blisters on my feet keep growing, constantly being on the move, and they have no time to recover. I wish I would have known that I’d be running away when I did, I would not have worn my Doc Marten platform boots.
Every time I stop for the night, I take off my socks and let them air out, washing my feet in the cool river. I watched a documentary once about soldiers in WWII getting trench feet and until now it was an irrational fear I held onto constantly.
Now the fear feels quite rational given the circumstances. Thank you, past self. The thought only comforts me slightly.
As I watch the silver of the moonlight shimmer on the surface of the water, I can’t shake the eerie feeling that I am not alone out here. My skin erupts with goosebumps at the sound of a twig snapping off in the thicket.
The woods are cloaked in an eerie silence, only broken by the unnatural rustling of leaves and the occasional tweets and sounds of birds.
As I move quietly as possible along the edge of the river an impenetrable darkness falls around me. The moon seems to have disappeared altogether.
