Page 11 of Hollow Moon

“Maggie Leland,” he said.

“Right.”

“You found me—after I got away from the drug lab.”

“Yes.”

He flopped back against the sleeping bag. “I woke up and didn’t know where I was.”

“My tent.”

“The blue bubble.” He dragged in a breath. “What do I smell?”

“Soup. You need some nourishment.”

He shook his head. “Not what I usually eat.”

“But you should stay on an easy-to-digest diet for a few days.”

His couldn’t stop a smile from flickering across his lips as he thought about what he’d been enjoying out in the woods.

She caught it and asked, “What do you usually eat?”

“Meat.”

“Maybe I could snare you a rabbit.”

He felt his eyebrows rise. “Seriously?”

“My dad loved to take us on camping trips. I’ve got a lot of outdoor skills.”

“Us?”

“Me and my brother. Mom thought of it as opportunity for some alone time.”

He caught her brief expression of dislike and wondered whom it was for—the mother or the brother.

“I need to get up.”

“You need to rest.”

“I also need to pee. And I want to wash,” he said as he crawled toward the door of the tent, grimacing as his left leg took part of his weight.

When he looked up, she had turned slightly away. Had his frankness embarrassed her? Probably not since she’d said she was a nurse. Maybe she was sorry she’d talked about her family.

He stood cautiously, clenched his teeth as he took a step. The wounded leg had stiffened up while he was sleeping.

“The stream is over that way.” She pointed toward her right and into the woods. “The water’s cold.”

“I’m used to cold water.”

She handed him a small container with soap, then looked at the towel draped over the top of the tent. “The only towel I have is wet. But I’ve got an extra tee shirt you can use to dry off.”

“Yes. Thanks.”

She handed him a shirt from her backpack.

Not quite steady on his feet, he hobbled past her into the woods, feeling her gaze on him.

---