|
||||
Her chronometer tells her that is close to six in the evening, and even in the summer, the sun dies fast in these climes. It had started innocently enough -- a quick consultation of the geodesic map, a firm pointing of her index finger towards the east: This way. We should hook up with the main trail in about an hour. And so they slogged on, through the deep woods where the sun burned pinholes through the foliage, branches the size of tree trunks barring the path, some of the earth so moist and soft that it was almost like quicksand, stray bushes and bits of rock bruising their feet. They had agreed on saving the last bits of beef jerky and condensed rice for dinner, so he had resigned himself to eating fruit and nuts, quite a bit more fruit than nuts, and he is now slightly delirious from the sugar high, given to yelling out loud at random moments, breaking into song, perhaps to scare  |
off the poisonous snakes he has heard about. Hours since they were due to hit the main trail, they are still locked within these woods, no discernible path in view, the erratic movement of their flashlights across the forest floor more disquieting than the actual forest. Her companion swears. We should have brought a compass from home instead of buying it here -- We'll be fine, she says. She doesn't begrudge him his anxiety, but she can feel something similar surging up inside her, and she must shut him up to shut herself up. Let's keep going. He unstraps his backpack with a single click of his belt buckle, and it escapes him, rolls to a lopsided stop on the ground. She has told him how to pack so all the weight is evenly  |
|||
