Page 1 of Lost in the Wild

One

Evie

My thighs burn as I hike up the stony path, rocks and dirt grinding under my brand new boots. The midday sunlight is buttery yellow, and the higher I climb, the hotter it seems to scorch my cheeks.

Cardio. Oh my god, cardio.

Climbing the daily five flights of stairs in my apartment building has not prepared me for this.

The cool wind whips at my clothes, chilling my sweat to my skin. This high up, the town of Starlight Ridge looks like one of those tiny painted model villages you see in glass cases sometimes, nestled down in the valley. I stop to catch my breath and swig water, dazed by the towering peaks, rushing rivers and green forests of this landscape.

Everything is so freaking big out here. And, well… wild. I’d never noticed how small and squishy my vulnerable human body is before, but I’m sure as hell noticing it now. Every time a rock slips under my boot, my heart jackhammers in my chest.

My stainless steel bottle clinks as I shove it away in my backpack, and I tug out a notebook and map of the area instead. A nearby boulder seems a good place to lean my tired shoulders, and my hands shake as I page through my notes.

Don’t fall in a crevasse.

Don’t get eaten by a cougar.

Don’t mess up this job.

Thanks, Past Evie! Super helpful.

The wind snatches at the pages, tugging them out of my grip. The map billows when I spread it out too, corners flapping in the breeze, but I can just about locate myself on the path I marked out this morning.

Oh, hell. So much farther to climb. How can the Wild Man of Starlight Ridge stand it? If he really does exist and this isn’t some wild goose chase, that’s the first question I’m going to ask him.

Thirty sweaty minutes later, it’s a relief when the path snakes away from the bare, rocky mountainside into a patch of forest. Shade from the burning hot sun! A soft cushion of pine needles beneath my boots instead of slippy rocks! I sigh happily, bumping my pack higher on my shoulders.

This isn’t so bad.

Sure, I’m halfway up a strange mountain, searching for a strange man, soaked in sweat with blistered feet—and all for a job I’m not even sure I want anymore. But my muscles are humming under my skin, my stride is lengthening, and for the first time all day… I feel strong.

“Hello?” I call, my voice bouncing between the trees. Birds flutter overhead, zipping from branch to branch, and pine needles crunch softly underfoot. “Wild Man? Are you there?”

Can’t hurt to ask, can it? And who knows, if I call out to the mysterious man I’ve come to meet, maybe I’ll scare off any nearby bears at the same time. Win-win.

Besides, I’ve been alone for hours now, huffing and puffing in silence. It’s probably the longest I’ve gone in my whole life without a conversation—while awake, anyway.

“My name’s Evie,” I call through the trees. “Evie Daniels. I’ve hiked all this way to interview you.”

Pride tinges my voice, though I guess a bonafide wild man won’t be impressed with me for walking up a single mountain trail. That’s like his morning commute, right?

Whatever, I’m impressed. And now that I’m here, out in the wilderness for the first time in my city-girl life, I’m kinda into it. Trees are lit! And it smells really good out here, like warm earth and pine.

I don’t smell good after sweating through my layers, but that doesn’t matter. The wild man is probably a huge grimeball, living up on the mountain without showers. If I smelled too good, I might freak him out.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

My fingertips brush against tree trunks as I walk past, stroking scarred bark and spongy moss. The shadows are deeper here beneath the trees, and it’s cooler out of the sunshine. Small shapes scurry across branches overhead, chattering among themselves, and I strain to hear any other sounds.

For the hundredth time today, a small voice whispers in the back of my mind: What if you don’t find him? What if the Wild Man of Starlight Ridge isn’t even real? What if you came all this way, talked your horrible job into paying the travel costs, and it’s all a dead end?

Nope, don’t like that train of thought. Time to shut it down. Jolting my pack higher on my shoulders, I raise my head and march through the trees, whistling a jaunty tune.

* * *

Two hours later, it turns out maps are harder to read in the forest gloom—and paths are harder to follow. What seemed clear as day out on the bare, sunny mountainside is not so obvious in this maze of tree roots and mossy boulders.

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