“It’ll be dark soon,” Will said. “Wish I could say that I’m a master outdoorsman and will have a fire ready momentarily, but that’s not gonna happen with everything soaked.”
“Just fire up the stove and you’ll be my hero,” Kalyn said.
While the women inflated the Therm-a-Rest pads and unrolled the sleeping bags, Will took the kitchen set outside. He vaguely remembered the bush pilot warning them against cooking near the tent, so he found a grouping of rocks fifty yards away.
Pockets of mist had begun to form around the edges of the meadow, drifting between the poplar and spruce, and he thought about the previous night with Kalyn as he scanned the directions for the camp stove. It hadn’t been as strange with her as he’d feared it might be. Maybe they’d take a walk later tonight, talk about what had happened—the kiss, the obvious attraction they both felt for each other.
By the time Devlin and Kalyn walked over, he had a pot of water coming to a boil over a blue propane-fueled flame, bubbles rising to the surface, steam swirling into the air.
They drank hot chocolate and ate surprisingly delicious rehydrated suppers, standing in the meadow as the snow began to fall—big downy flakes melting on the rocks and trees.
No one spoke, and it was cold, wet, and nearly dark as they stumbled back toward the tent, the ground now frosted, their breath clouds pluming in the dusk.
“This sucks,” Devlin said.
THIRTY-EIGHT
They sat bundled in sleeping bags, their faces illuminated by a flashlight Will had rigged to hang down from the tent ceiling. In the poor light, they could barely make out one another’s faces.
Kalyn held the map under the flashlight. “I think I see where we are,” she said. “The contour lines stay together for a while after the waterfall, and then they spread out again. If so, we’re only about a half mile or so from the inner lake.”
“We made good time today, didn’t we?” Devlin said.
“We sure did. And you did great.”
Will said, “Well, we should probably get your therapy over with. Being at this altitude has got to be stressing your lungs.” Devlin sighed, climbed out of her sleeping bag, and stretched out on her stomach across the Therm-a-Rest.
As Will moved into position, Kalyn said, “Can I do it?”
“Um, I guess, if that’s okay with Devi.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Devlin said.
“Okay, show me how.”
Will unzipped the tent and poked his head outside. Snow danced through the beam of the flashlight, a few inches having already accumulated. He ducked into the tent and zipped the door back. Kalyn and Devlin were revving up for the final game in a three-set match of Rock Paper Scissors. Will would face the winner.
He said, “All right, Devi, all comes down to—”
The high register of a howl erupted in the dark—long, sad, and beautiful.
Devlin looked up from the game. “Was that a wolf, Dad?”
“I think so.”
“That’s the loneliest sound I’ve ever heard.”
Devlin lay in her sleeping bag, snuggled between Kalyn and her father. They’d turned the flashlight off, and it was black and soundless except for the pattering of snowflakes falling on the rain fly.
“Dad?” Devlin said.
“Yeah, honey.”
“Kalyn?”
“What?”
“Just wanted to see if you two were still awake.”
“Not for much longer. What’s wrong? You scared?”
“No. Well, a little.”
“No!”
“Devi. You remember our talk in the hotel? Now is not the time to argue with me. Do not leave this tent no matter what.”
THIRTY-NINE
The beam of Will’s headlamp cut through the onslaught of snow, and aside from the wind, it was stone-silent. He followed Kalyn’s footprints away from the tent. Her tracks headed down through the meadow, and as he walked, his headlamp seemed slowly but steadily to dim, until he could barely see anything but the ankle-deep snow at his feet.
The headlamp winked out. He reached up, tapped the bulb. It flickered on and off, then on again. He went on in the snow, the coldness of the flakes nicking his face like shaving cuts.