by Teagan Kade
Quite the opposite, in fact.
With the exception of that brief moment at Gracie’s, she hasn’t let her guard down around me, not really. It didn’t occur to me until just now, as I’m walking towards her maroon Jeep that I want her to, that I’d want anyone to let their guard down around me. It’s such a carefully plotted ritual, my interactions with women. I’ve never given thought to improvising beyond the choreography, but now I’ve already jumped way off course and I can’t seem to pull back.
I try to shrug it off as I open the passenger door and slide in, but Edie doesn’t even look at me. She starts the engine and pulls out, not saying a word, and I can’t help but thinking about that kiss… or how much I want to repeat it.
“Music?” I ask, trying to distract myself and break up the awkward tension between us.
She glances over at me with a droll expression. “Oh, so now you’re asking before you do things?”
Yep, still pissed.
Not that I thought for a second she wasn’t.
“You’re driving, your music. Some things are sacred.” I smile back, hoping to deflect.
“Fine,” she grumbles, and pushes in the knob, turning the stereo on.
The sound streams out quiet at first except for the drumbeat until she turns it up, and then turns it up some more.
I don’t recognize the song, but it sounds like something someone with thick black retro-framed glasses from San Francisco or Portland would listen to in a coffee shop over some trendy cold brew.
I’m sure Ava would know them. Poor, dumbass Dean.
Edie’s got the volume cranked so high and the windows are down, there’s no chance we’re talking over the sound. Probably for the best. I doubt there is anything I could say at this point that wouldn’t piss her off further. It’s so strange to have this reaction from someone. Outside Dean, Dex, and Ava, people generally tend to like me. And even with those three, well, they still put up with me.
I don’t like being rejected, of course, but it’s happened, just not so vehemently and with such… judgment. Sure, I sleep around and I don’t feel any shame over that, nor should any consenting responsible adult, but I don’t like that she sees me as just that. My sexual prowess is hardly the most interesting thing about me and, strangely, I have this sudden desire for her to see that.
I turn in my seat and study her. There isn’t much light inside the car, but I can see the wind whipping the loose strands around her face as she stares intently at the road, her mouth moving along with the lyrics.
It occurs to me she’s lip-syncing. Something about it is incredibly cute. And aside from Talisa and puppies, that might be the first time I’ve ever used the word ‘cute’—especially in relation to an adult female.
Distracted watching her, I don’t realize right away when she turns off the highway and heads towards the West Timber Trail.
As soon as I register where she’s heading, I turn the volume down and turn to her. “This might not be the best way to go in the dark. The terrain is pretty uneven, even in daylight. Unless you’re an experienced off-roader, it’s not a good idea.”
Even as I’m talking, we’re already off the actual road and onto the dirt stretch where the ground starts getting gnarly.
Edie doesn’t look towards me when she answers. “Yeah? So buckle up and try not to piss yourself.”
I can’t help but smile at her defiance. She’s got spunk, I’ll give her that. And damn if she can’t handle her vehicle. She crawls over the bumps, never losing control over the steering, avoiding bottoming out where I’ve seen plenty of people do just that, and maneuvering with ease through the trail.
Mud kicks up and splatters my arm as we go through a soggier section of the road. I look over as she laughs, getting pelted herself. The sound is throaty, genuine, and entirely intoxicating.
It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh and I want to hear it again.
I wipe my arm off with a towel from my bag and reach in for my Patagonia pullover. It’s getting chilly and the temperature in the forest will be another degree or two lower. We finally park at the end of the off-road trail in a little pullout section with a rickety old picnic table.
“Impressive driving,” I say, when she turns the ignition off.
She glances at me with a look of suspicion before answering. “My oldest brother taught me.”
Oldest? Hmm, more than one. That explains some of it…
We both hop out and silently put our backpacks together. I sling mine over my shoulder and come around to her side. She turns to me, headlamp in place and on, nearly blinding me.
“Ah!” I lift my hand in front of my eyes, deflecting the light.
She clicks it off. “Oops, sorry.”
“It’s okay, so what was your plan for tonight?” I ask, nodding at the map in her hand, noticing that some of her edge is gone.
She holds it out to me. I glance over the blue highlighter trail she’s marked out.
“This ridge here,” I trace the line on the map, “is super steep. The trail that follows alongside is pretty intense. Are you sure you want to start there?”
“It’s the fastest way to get to where the first carcass was found. We’re visiting the dumpsites in chronological order. If there is a pattern or a progression, it’ll be easier to spot that way.” She pulls a bar out of her bag and takes a bite.
My stomach growls. I realize I never got anything to eat after my tour group.
I look at her and she looks back at me with narrowed eyes. I very clearly recall her stance on food, but I give her a pleading grin despite myself.
“No,” she says, completely uncharitably.
My stomach growls again, louder.
“Uggggh, fine, one bite.” She hands me the bar and I gleefully take a bite. “Hey! One bite doesn’t mean you eat half the bar in one go.” She stamps off towards the trail head. I jog to keep up.
“Sorry, I have a big mouth,” I grin.
“Matches your ego,” she grumbles back.
“Not the only big thing it matches,” I joke back.
“Shhhhh.” She stops as we enter the tree cover. “Do you hear that?” She grabs my forearm and I feel it everywhere.
For a moment I think she might chicken out as we listen to a cougar scream. It’s not a sound you ever get completely used to, but it doesn’t bother me.
I move to get closer to her, thinking she’s scared when she whispers, “I think it’s a female in heat. Fascinating…” and then she keeps walking.
The sexual context of what she just said aside, the fact that she’s not freaked out by it, that she’s actually intrigued, is impossibly hot.
Fuck, I want to taste her again.
I’m weighing the likelihood she’ll go from pissed off to receptive again in the expanse of the next few hours when the trees clear and the trail starts getting narrower and closer to the ridgeline.
“Do you want to lead?” I’m surprised when she offers. “You obviously know the path better than me.” I can tell she’s admitting it grudgingly, but it’s a small concession and feels massive.
“Sure,” I answer, stepping in front of her.
We walk a while in silence, just taking in the sounds of the night. This is what I love about coming out here. The total peace. I look up and the sky is a maelstrom of sparkling dots, a blanket of stars. It surprises me she’s not chattering, disturbing the silence like so many of the people I bring out here on tours.
I pause for a moment and Edie stops behind me. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Look up.” I point above us. “Isn’t it incredible? Man, I love it out here. This feeling never gets old. It’s what all those tourists come out here searching for and what the lucky ones find.”
“The stars?” she asks, looking up. After a pause, she finally concedes, “I don’t think I’ve seen so many in a long, long time. You can’t really see much in San Francisco, with all the light pollution and the marine layer.”
I nod.
“There aren’t a lot of places you can see them this clearly. It’s why people come out here, to be removed from the man-made and feel that sense there are things bigger, older, and more powerful than themselves. That you’re just one little tiny speck in this beautiful, incredible chaos of life. Some people might see that as depressing, but I think it’s liberating.”
“It’s strange to me anyone would need to be reminded of that. I feel like I’ve spent my entire life constantly being told I’m small and… maybe not insignificant, per se, but definitely powerless.” Her voice is softer than I’ve heard it before.
It occurs to me this is the most insightful conversation I’ve ever had with a woman I wasn’t related to. I hear her breathing slow and I can feel her standing close to me. I turn to look at her, to test the reality of this moment—whether it’s just me or if I’ll see the truth of it in her eyes as well. She turns at the same time, but the light of our headlamps collide and blind us both.
She clears her throat and I don’t want to push it, so we keep on hiking. We’re not too much farther from the site of the first carcass and the ridge affords us a decent view of the foothills, when we both freeze in our tracks as we see a light flash a few times in the forest below.
The light flashes again and the faint whirr of an engine starts up before fading away. I snap off my headlight. She does likewise as we both wait for whatever comes next.
But nothing does.
Finally, she asks, “How hard is it to get down there?”
I glance at her, incredulous. “Not that hard. The trail is a switchback once we reach the peak up here and descends quickly, but you can’t be thinking of going over there, right?”
“Obviously, I am…” she says, as if that was the only possible option.
“That half of the trail is closed anyway because of a rockfall. It’s not easy to get through and definitely not safe since anyone over there right now is there despite the fact that they shouldn’t be, which usually means they’re not up to anything goo—” I try to argue, but she levels me with an expression of exasperation.
“I came out here to investigate and that’s what I’m going to do. Are you with me or not?” She watches me impatiently.
What I really want to do is throw her over my shoulder and walk back to the Jeep, or at least as far from whatever dangerous thing is going on over there. Of course, she could probably kick my ass in the process. Besides that, I know if I made her turn back now I’ll be killing any chance of exploring this strange attraction further.
Against every instinct and sense of better judgment I have, I reluctantly agree. In return she gives me a brief grin that momentarily chases away my worries as we forge ahead.
What a strange bird she is—totally unreceptive at all to my usual game. But then I wasn’t drawn to rock climbing because it was easy. Give me a good challenge and I’m golden.
CHAPTER NINE
EDIE
The hike isn’t bad and it feels good to be active. Back in San Francisco I used to visit the gym at least a handful of times a week. Running the crazy hills in downtown keeps a person on their game. Ever since moving here, though, there’s no gym and I’ve been a little hesitant to go jogging through the woods alone because of the increased wildlife activity. Not that I’m in any way scared, but I do have some sense of self-preservation. I know that a lone person jogging can trigger a predatory reaction in a hungry carnivore pretty easily.
Out here with Deric, even though I should probably feel the opposite of safe, I’m at ease, exhilarated in a way I haven’t been in a long time. It’s probably just the case. I’m sure that’s all it is. It’s definitely not the fact he kissed me or that weird moment when we were looking up at the crazy kaleidoscope of stars. I wasn’t born yesterday. I know this guy has this whole process down to a science. So, if my heart is beating a little faster than usual it has nothing to do with him because I most certainly will not be his next conquest.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
I didn’t expect to find anything significant out here tonight. It was simply a place to start, but it’s beginning to look like maybe I’ve hit a small spot of good luck.
The lights have gone away, but we’re starting to descend from the crest of the ridge where we’d been and pretty soon we’ll lose sight of it from above. I wouldn’t admit it to Deric right now, but part of me is grateful he’s here. I’d have had a hard time finding my way over there without him, but it’s evident he knows this land thoroughly—a fact that has me somewhat curious even though I know better than to let my thoughts drift there.
He turns around and whispers in the darkness. “Rock slide is coming up.” Something about the way his voice sounds, quiet and deep, across the night sends a shiver of awareness back up my spine.
Our headlamps are turned off, so it’s hard to see, but there is moonlight shining through the trees. I can just make out the big boulders in the path ahead. Without warning, he leaps up onto one of them and turns back, crouching low from above and offering me his hand.
“Come on, I thought you wanted to keep going. You’re not turning white on me now, are you?” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“No, of course not!” I say in a hushed but stubborn tone. I take his hand and push off the boulder with one boot while he lifts me like I’m weightless.
We creep over the big chunks of rock carefully. They’re massive, giant pieces of granite, some of them as tall as Deric, but it’s hard to know whether they’re stable.
When Deric jumps down and I hear him make contact with the telltale sound of packed earth, it’s a relief.
“How much further, you think?” I whisper as I catch up to him.
“From where I could see the lights pop up, not too much farther,” he murmurs back.
The trail curves sharply again and then we’re engulfed by the forest fully. I can’t make out the sky above at all.
Owls sound off and bats screech. The sound of the forest at night is everywhere, like the place is alive. It occurs to me I used to love being outside. Family camping and fishing trips to the Catskills were the highlights of my childhood. It’s what drew me to Fish and Wildlife to begin with. There was the necessary law enforcement aspect that felt like it was part of my genetic composition, but there was also that ability to be out in the wilderness that was so appealing.
What I was doing in San Francisco was interesting and challenging, and I loved it, but I lost that aspect of my work. Maybe Johnny was right. Maybe this breather will do me some good.
An animal screams ahead of us and it’s a strange, painful sound I’ve never heard before.
We both stop. Without thought, I grab at Deric’s sleeve. “What was that?” I ask.
“How should I know?” he shrugs.
“You’re the one who leads tours through here!” I answer incredulously.
It cries out again and sounds like death. There’s no time to waste. We hurry forward, leaving the trail, trampling through the brush towards the strange cry. Deric’s legs carry him faster. I’m busy pulling out a telescoping snare pole from my backpack. Whatever we find, it sounds injured, and wild animals tend to be their least cuddly when they’re wounded.
“Holy shit,” I hear him breathe as I come up behind him. “Is that… That can’t be what I think it is, is it?”
I freeze, amazed by what I’m seeing. It takes a minute before I can finally answer. “A wolverine.” It cries again, and even though it’s dark, I can see the glint of the steel trap on his back leg.
The poor crumpled creature is laying on a crushed fern. I can see the sparkle of black liquid on the fronds around it. It’s bleeding bad. In its current state, it’s an easy snack for any other predator that happens along.
“Well, alright, let’s do this.” I say and drop my backpack, extending the snare pole as far as I can and pulling out a pair of thick protective gloves. “Here, take these.” I hand Deric the gloves.
“What?” He seems caught off guard, but
I don’t wait. I pull the laces out of boots and ball them up in one hand before creeping close to the wolverine. “Wait, what are you doing?” I hear him ask frantically.
Not stopping, I answer, “I’m going to immobilize it with the snare pole, then you’ll hold it in place so it can’t bite me while I take the trap off its leg.”
I can tell he’s about to protest, so I don’t give him time to. Instead, I loop the snare around the animal’s fuzzy head in one swift movement and tighten it slightly—not so much to hurt it, but enough to make sure it’s caught.
“You’re up. Here, keep him from squirming too much.” I hand the pole to Deric. His eyes flash, but he doesn’t say anything.
I scramble around to the other end of the animal who doesn’t seem to have reacted much. I’ve never seen one up close like this, and curled up as it is, it almost reminds me of a teddy bear. I desperately want to touch its fur, but I know better.
“Poor baby, look at you,” I coo softly, hoping to calm it, not knowing if that works with wolverines. I wrap the laces through the springs on either side of the clamp and knot them in place. “Sorry, this will probably hurt too…” I say as I pull back, focusing all my strength on relieving the pressure on the springs. It’s not easy. There’s probably at least a hundred pounds of pressure on the trap.
It opens, slips a little, and the animal screams. The sound releases an adrenaline rush, enough to fuel me that last bit further. The mouth of the trap springs open and the wolverine pulls loose and growls, lunging right at me with sudden force. I fall backwards as I hear Deric shout and the animal doesn’t sink its teeth in somehow.
Scrambling back up to my feet, I see it charge at him—the snare loop still on its neck, but the pole dragging behind it. I manage to reach out and grab the pole as it swipes out at Deric. One quick unhooking motion and it’s free. As soon as it senses the release, it takes off.
“Shit!” Deric shouts, as the wolverine charges clumsily past him into the woods.
I jog over to him. “You okay?”
