by Danika Stone
“It’s not burning,” Ash said. “There’s wood and hot coals but—”
“The fire needs oxygen,” Vale said, crouching next to him. “Blow on the embers.” She took a deep breath and directed a gust of breath at the brightest part of the coals. With a hiss, they flared from dull red to yellow orange. The branches nearby popped into flame.
“Whoa!”
Another elk bugle broke the quiet of the clearing. The elk charged, and Ash scrambled out of its way. With the fire going, the bull elk shied a little farther outside the circle of light. “It’s working! They’re still fighting, but we’ve got a little room now.”
“Let’s build it higher.” Vale tossed in another handful of kindling, then leaned down. “Keep blowing as you add more wood.” She climbed to her feet and hissed in pain as her ankle protested. “Don’t add any new branches until the first ones are burning.”
“Got it.” Ash darted to the destroyed hut, grabbed more, and returned to the fire.
Ankle throbbing, Vale did the same. She pulled pieces of wood from the base of the dismantled shelter, then dragged them to the campfire, switching places with Ash. Somewhere in the forest, more branches broke. The third bull elk—separate from the fight for dominance—caught sight of Vale. It lowed its antlers.
“Watch out!” Ash shouted.
With a cry of panic, Vale stumbled back out of the way, narrowly avoiding razor-sharp hooves as she tumbled to the ground a few feet from the fire. The elk charged again.
“Go!” Ash bellowed. “Get AWAY from us!” He grabbed Vale’s arm and pulled her aside as the bull elk changed direction last second, swerving away from the fire. Ash stood in front of Vale—blocking her from view—his voice high pitched with panic. “Get OUT of here!”
Seeing the flames, the animal huffed and stepped back. It swung its antlered head low, then moved away from the fire, stepping back into the perimeter of darkness.
“Th-thanks,” Vale gasped.
“No problem.” He held out his hand and Vale grabbed hold of it, letting him hoist her to her feet. On the far side of the clearing, the two elk fought on, while the hunched shape of the third bull elk appeared for a moment on the edge of the firelight, then dissolved back into the shadows again. It bugled.
It’s circling the camp. It’s watching us.
Vale and Ash worked faster. The fire was growing, but not quickly enough. Need more wood! Vale turned, the pain of her ankle almost taking her to her knees. She gritted her teeth and kept going. There was no way around it; if they wanted to stay alive, they needed to be able to see.
Vale tossed the broken boughs onto the campfire. These ones lit at once. She grabbed a burning stick and held it aloft as she hobbled back to the fallen lean-to for another handful. Ash did the same in the forest. Arms full, Vale limped toward the fire. She turned to go, but Ash grabbed her arm, holding her steady.
“Stay!” he gasped, fear sharpening his words. “The elk is in the trees again!” He pointed. “You go back and it’ll charge you for sure.”
Vale turned to look at where the shelter had stood only minutes before. The elk pawed the ground, then took two stiff-legged steps toward them. It swung its head. “It’s waiting for us to leave the fire,” Vale whispered.
Her gaze darted around the clearing. Two adult male elk circled each other, ready to fight. Behind them, the small lake glittered. She winced. She and Ash were trapped, unable to move. She edged as close to the rising flames as she could and stared into the darkness. Vale’s pant legs grew so warm, the skin on her legs began to smart. She didn’t move; neither did Ash. The elk was there in the shadows. Invisible. Dangerous.
“Let’s stay here,” Ash said. “We have enough wood for a bit. It’s … it’s safer.”
Safer … but not safe, Vale thought. She knew that Ash was thinking it too.
* * *
Vale woke with a start. She was curled up on her side on the muddy ground, the dying fire warm at her back, the chill morning air draining the heat from her exposed flesh. She opened one eye. The sun was a bright circle in the sky just above the mountain range—it couldn’t be much later than seven or eight—though the warmth of the day still hadn’t arrived. Vale sat up and stretched as she looked around the trampled campsite. The evidence of the night’s trauma was everywhere: the remains of the destroyed shelter, elk prints in the snow, scattered ashes, and snow trodden black with mud.
Vale scanned the valley. The ragged peaks that surrounded the lake were newly covered in a veil of snow. Wispy clouds hung halfway up the valley wall, the sun slowly burning them away as day arrived. The forest lay silent. The lake calm. Vale frowned when her gaze came back down.
Ash was nowhere to be seen.
Fear caught hold of Vale’s throat and tightened into a vise as she climbed slowly to her feet. She gasped as she took her first step. The swelling of her sprained ankle had eased in the past hours, but it was still sore. She took a few steps away from the smoldering campfire, hot tears pooling along her lash line.
“Ash…?” she called.
Nothing.
“Ash!”
No answer.
Panic hit her in a rush. “Ash, where are you?”
The wind whistled through the trees, indifferent to her concern.
“ASH!” she bellowed.
Her words echoed up out of the valley, then faded into silence. It was bright and sunny, but Vale felt like a cloud had passed in front of the sun. She searched the snow, terrified. There was blood on the snow after the cougar attack. If something happened to Ash, there’d be blood … Right? She hobbled slowly around the camp. If he was stomped by an elk, I would have woken. He would have screamed. The ground was covered in a layer of melting snow, the footprints turning to mud with each passing minute. If some animal had attacked Ash, it hadn’t left evidence.
Maybe, she thought, he went to relieve himself. He’d want a little space for that, right…? The knot in her chest eased. Yeah. Maybe that’s where he is. The thought made her aware of the fullness of her own bladder. Vale took a few steps away from the campsite and crouched in the bushes to pee. She faced the woods, watching in case Ash returned. With the sun rising in the sky, the snow on the ground had grown pocked and blotchy, meltwater blurring away the tracks through the woods. Animal-and-human passage soon gave way to patches of damp grass and mud. It wouldn’t be long, Vale figured, before she’d be warm enough to take off her jacket.
She limped back to the destroyed shelter and picked through the remains of the branches. Every once in a while she glanced up, always expecting Ash to appear. He never did. Under the slushy layer of melting snow, she uncovered her backpack—now crushed and waterlogged—but still zipped closed. She shook out the three garbage bags on which she and Ash had spent half the night and hung them over a tree branch. Two were badly tattered, but Vale wanted to keep everything she could.
She stood up again, and something caught her eye. “That’s Ash’s pack.” She reached into the pile of snow and shook it out. Barring the water bottle—which Ash had had with him by the fire the night before—everything else was inside. Vale stared at it, heart pounding. Surely he wouldn’t leave camp without his backpack! Right…? RIGHT?! She just didn’t know.
For the next few minutes, she tidied the campsite they had created. That done, Vale gathered a new pile of branches. Each step she took made walking easier. Ash was right about the ankle. Near a thicket of dead fallen trees, she found where Ash had pulled the stump they’d burned the night before. She frowned at the sight of the unearthed pile of roots, black carpenter ants drawing lines through the dirt as they rebuilt their nest. Vale gave them a wide berth. She paused now and then to catch her breath. She was lightheaded from hunger, but after a moment’s rest she pushed herself to continue. Eventually, she had a small pile of kindling, and a neat bundle of branches beside it. A thin trail of smoke rose into the sky. Fifteen minutes of hard work and everything was in order.
She nodded to herself. Onc
e Ash gets back, we can start walking again. When she lifted her gaze to the horizon, the expression faded. The valley was empty as far as she could see. The elk had moved on. Only the howl of wind as it moved over the peaks interrupted her solitude. Vale’s vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. The terror that she’d kept almost at bay was back, clawing its way through her chest. Fears that dogged her on a daily basis roared to life as tears trickled down her cheeks, dripping off her chin. It wasn’t a mistake, and there was no use denying it.
Ash had left her behind.
* * *
Ash took the steep incline as a challenge. One more step, he thought grimly. Just focus on one more step. He didn’t let his thoughts go back to the camp he’d left behind, didn’t let himself think about Vale waking up alone. (His guilt wouldn’t let him.) Ash had left her sleeping by the fire. There’d been no way for him to leave a note for her, so he’d headed off without looking back. If things worked out: Great! If they didn’t … Well, Ash wouldn’t let himself think about that either.
Legs shaking, he kept his eyes on the ridge where he was headed. The forest thinned the higher he got, but the snow got deeper. The past two days in the woods felt like level grinding: the tedious process of learning skills and going on side quests in order to build experience points so a player can gain levels. Ash was done with that! He wanted action, change. Out of this fricking nightmare! He could see the end of the trees in the distance, and he forced himself through knee-deep snow toward that line. I’m gonna fix this, Vale.
Unlike the animals who made these high alpine slopes their home, Ash’s body wasn’t built for climbing through snowdrifts. His Keds were mud caked and sodden. His foot slipped in a wet patch of half-melted sleet, and he fell forward, smacking his head against a tree branch. The movement jarred the breath from his lungs, and he saw stars. Hate being so WEAK! Shaking, Ash paused for breath. He touched the top of his head, then pulled his fingers away to inspect them. There was a smear of blood, but nothing worrisome. With no first aid kit, there was nothing Ash could do about it anyhow.
Frustrated and desperately hungry, he started walking again. Got to keep going, keep moving. Each step brought him higher. If he could get anywhere near the top, he should be able to get reception for his phone. He grinned, imagining his success. Get one bar and we’re scot-free!
Fifty more steps brought him to the last of the scrubby pines that clung to the slope, and with one final push he broke up above the tree line. “Yes!” Ash leaned forward, taking a moment to catch his breath and regroup. There were times when he and his fellow players stayed up days in a row, playing battle after battle in multiday tourneys. In those endless hours, Ash would guzzle energy drinks and eat junk food, losing track of time as he pushed himself to the max. Nothing compares to this. Survival here was a different thing entirely. There were no health potions to counter the palsied twitching of his muscles, starved of glycogen. There was no teammate to give him a break while he grabbed a bite to eat. There was only him and the hours of climbing. And Vale. He fought for each step as much for his friend as for himself. This was hard work … impossible work! But he was doing it for both of them.
“Nothing to it but to do it,” he muttered. He tried to take a step, but his shaking legs wouldn’t move. He clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. “Get your ass in gear, Hamid!” With an angry grunt, he threw himself back into motion.
In the alpine zone where he hiked, the snow was wet and slushy, bits of it clinging to his jeans. Around him, the air grew thin. Each foot higher made the climb harder, and his breath came in sharp gasps. Sweat trickled down the center of Ash’s back, and he tugged open his coat, overheated from exertion despite the chill. Faint shadows blurred the edges of his vision.
One more step, a voice inside him chanted. One. More. Step.
His goal was the area directly below a snowcapped peak. It was a ragged line of rock, the snow scoured away by the hands of the wind. From the forest, it looked like an easy climb, but up close it was treacherous. Ash reached the sheer wall and leaned against it. Wheezing, he stared back the way he’d come. His heart sank. There was no other lake anywhere. He had no idea where he was, but it definitely wasn’t near Twin Lakes.
“No!”
His gaze dropped lower. Straight below him was the blue shimmer of the lake where he and Vale had made their camp. She was probably awake by now, and she’d definitely be angry at him once she realized he left. You know, Ash, I COULD have walked on my ankle. You just needed to ask. He smiled sadly to himself. Vale might have the best intentions in the world, but with her ankle twisted, there’d been no other choice.
With grim determination, he turned back to the rock wall and began to climb. It was Ash’s chance to save her.
* * *
Vale’s terror was sudden and intense. Ash is GONE! He left me behind! My God, I’m all ALONE! Tears flooded her eyes as the truth she’d avoided all morning arrived with the weight of a truck coming to a stop on her chest. This CAN’T be happening, her mind chattered. He CAN’T leave me here! Not NOW! Vale’s gaze jerked around the camp, then the forest, then the distant mountaintops.
But I’m the reason we’re lost. This is it … he gave up on me!
“NO!” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Ash!” she screamed. “Ash, come BACK!” Vale took two steps and stumbled, her ankle blossoming with a white-hot firebrand of pain. Heartbroken, she hardly noticed. “Ash! ASH! Where ARE you?”
Vale’s whole life, she’d struggled to fit in. The schoolyard taunts of elementary school—mostly written off by exhausted teachers as “boys being boys”—had expanded into full-on trolling in her middle school years. She’d been a gamer then. But the constant online trolling had tipped the balance. To escape it, she’d given up the pastime she’d loved.
Only Ash had stood by Vale’s side.
Vale had tried to find a new place to fit. Bella and the LGBTQ IA online community had helped tremendously (even if it hurt that a few members of that community didn’t recognize aro-ace as a valid orientation). But she was still left with her daytime hours. And as high school began, new bullies made Vale their target. Mike had personally gone out of his way to subject Vale to his reign of terror. Even her parents’ well-meaning actions echoed Vale’s precarious place in the social strata. “Date someone,” they said. “Give it a try.” From morning to night, Vale struggled. She made friends … only to have them disappear once Mike and his cronies got them in their sights. And all the way along, Vale had waited—terrified—for the moment when Ash too would walk away from her.
He just had.
Horrified, she recalled the last two days. She’d gotten the two of them lost. Her stubbornness and refusal to back down had made them late. Was it a surprise Ash left? This is my fault! Sobbing, Vale headed out into the woods that surrounded the small camp. Ash walked away! He’s GONE! She searched the ground for tracks, hoping against hope to find a line of footprints to follow. Elk prints had churned the snow into mire. Muddy prints mixed with leaves, blocking any clear path. “Please,” Vale whispered. “Please let me find his path…” Hiccups tore through her as she stumbled, fell, stumbled again. She glanced back up when the trees closed in.
The lake was still there. She could see it.
She came back and headed away in another radial spike, searching for Ash’s path. Her eyes were raw from crying. A moose crossed her path, but her search didn’t slow. Panic broke over her, leaving her heaving for breath. Coming back toward the camp, her shouts redoubled.
“Ash!” she sobbed. “ASH! Where ARE you?”
For two full hours she took forays into the forest, making a perfect pinwheel of her own prints in the rapidly melting snow. But with each passing minute, the chances of finding Ash dwindled. He was gone, pure and simple. Realizing it, Vale finally slid to her knees in the shadow of a larch and gave way to heartbreak.
Her whole life she’d been terrified of being abandoned. It had finally happened. She was alone.
She was lost. And the only one who could save Vale was herself. Her tears slowed, and she found herself empty of emotion. The wind pushed through the branches, cutting into Vale’s coat and leaving her shivering. With leaden feet, she finally stood, and slowly limped back to camp. She walked toward the campfire, then froze.
In the hours she’d been searching, it had gone out.
“NO!” She grabbed a dried branch and tossed it onto the embers. This time, however, the needles didn’t catch. “Oh no, no, no…” Vale jerked the branch off and leaned close. “Come on … Just need to get it going again.” Her heart thudded as she blew across the coals. She watched and waited. Nothing.
Vale scrambled upright and jogged to a nearby tree, ignoring the throb of her ankle. The lower branches were stripped of lichen. Frustrated, she staggered toward the next thicket, reached overhead and grabbed what few pieces she could reach. She limped back to the cold campfire.
Vale dropped to her knees. She added a bit of lichen, hoping against hope that there was enough heat left to ignite it. She blew again. The ashes swirled up, blinding her, but the coals did little else. “Not NOW!”
Hands shaking, she put her fingers above the embers. The coals were warm, not hot, no longer burning.
“Why NOW?”
Vale blew hard. Nothing. She leaned closer, pressing a number of tiny branches, moss, and lichen up against the coal. She blew again and again, but the flames wouldn’t catch. Fresh tears filled her eyes as Vale grabbed her bag and shook it onto the ground. She grabbed the battery. “The last wrapper,” she whispered.
With shaking hands, she searched her pocket until she located the final piece of foil.
She knelt in the ashes and tore the wrapper into a thin line, then held it against the poles of the battery with trembling fingers. She waited for the gum wrapper to ignite. “Please … just … work…”
