Page 14 of Broken Mountain Man

The withering look he shoots me could crisp leaves to ash.

"You're awfully sure of yourself for someone who got themselves lost around out here yesterday."

My cheeks warm, but I refuse to be cowed so easily, "Then I guess it's a good thing I've got my very own gruff mentor to show me the ropes, huh?"

Russell doesn't dignify my cheeky remark with a verbal response, simply shaking his head curtly as he slings the now-loaded backpack over one broad shoulder.

"You about done fueling up over there?" he asks gruffly, nodding at the half-eaten fruit in my hands.

I quickly bite off the remaining bites of the apple.

"Yep, all set whenever you are, survivalist sensei."

Rather than taking the bait and engaging in further back-and-forth banter, Russell merely jerks his chin towards the cabin's exit.

"Then let's get a move on. We've got a lot of ground to cover today."

Falling into step behind him, I can't help but feel a slight prickle of intrigue at what exactly his planned itinerary entails. Part of me still can't quite believe I'm willingly putting myself through some kind of wilderness boot camp alongside this surly mountain dweller I met under the strangest of circumstances.

We head out into the dense forest surrounding Russell's isolated cabin. After trekking for what feels like miles, he finally stops us in a small clearing.

"Alright, first lesson," he announces, shrugging off the backpack and letting it thump to the ground. "Finding and purifying water."

I glance around the seemingly ordinary patch of woods.

"There's water out here?"

Instead of answering directly, Russell fixes me with an expectant look.

"Well, put those observation skills to the test. What do you see that might indicate a water source nearby?"

Biting my lip, I slowly turn in a circle, carefully surveying our surroundings with a critical eye. At first, nothing jumps out as particularly noteworthy. But then, I notice a distinct decline in the landscape about fifty yards to the northwest, coupled with a small cluster of cattails poking up amongst the underbrush.

"That way?" I point towards the potential wetland area. "It looks like there might be a stream or something over that ridge."

Russell gives a curt nod of approval. "Not bad. Let's go take a look."

Sure enough, when we crest the slope, the dip in the terrain reveals a narrow creek lazily winding its way through the forest floor. Russell immediately gets to work, pulling a battered metal container from his pack and scooping up some of the sluggishly moving water.

"This is where it gets tricky," he says, waving me over to crouch beside him. “You can't just drink this straight out of the creek—there are too many contaminants and bacteria. You've got to know how to properly purify it first."

Over the next half hour, he walks me through the steps—using a portable filter, adding purification tablets, and evendemonstrating how to boil water over an open campfire if need be.

The entire process is so intricate and involved that despite his clear, patient instruction, I can't help feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"Think you've got the gist of it?" Russell asks once we've run through all the methods a few times over.

I hesitate before giving a tentative nod, "Yeah...I think so. No guarantees my body will agree if I have to put those skills into practice, though."

Rather than criticize, the faintest of smirks tugs at the corner of Russell's whiskered mouth.

"It's just a matter of repetition," Russell says. "Do it enough times, and it'll become second nature."

I make a face. "I don't know how you don't get bored out of your mind doing the same tasks over and over like that."

"The military taught me a thing or two about monotonous routines."

A smile tugs at my lips as I catch the brief slip.

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