Page 4 of Sheltered By the Mountain Man

There are limits to my bravery—likedying.

Dillon’s eyes light up with excitement. “Yeah. Dude’s like a bank robber or something. I bet he’s looking for his loot.” His smile dims. “But they said he’s heading south.”

“So we’re safe?”

“Unfortunately.” Dillon sees Bishop waving to him and hurries forward to pass out the maps.

I want to go home. But that’sold Bellatalking. I came out here for the challenge. To bedifferent. If only the knot in my stomach would go away.

Bishop gives us a brief safety talk about not leaving the trail and paying attention to the map.

“This one,” Dillon says, handing me one. Each trail is a different color on the map, twisting around each other as the paths cross.

How do people figure out which one they're on? I'm about to ask Dillon when Bishop brings up bears.

“Oh.” I hadn't thought about bears.

“Bears are easy. Like if it's a black bear, whatever you do, don't play dead. You gotta crab-walk sideways, like this.” He spreads his arms kind of wide, walking sideways and almost trips on one of the hikers.

“Dillon.” Bishop barks.

“And don't feed them. If you do, they like peanut butter. But don't.”

“Dillon.”

“Maps. Got it. Passing them out now.” He hands a second one to the older man beside us.

Bishop shakes his head slightly. “Stay on the trail and you shouldn't see any bears,” he says, scanning our group. His eyes skip right over me and linger on the Spandex twins. “Pay attention to the weather. The most recent report says the storm is moving in fast. If you see the clouds get darker, turn your asses around and get back here.” He winks at them, and they giggle.

Of course. Why would he look at a marshmallow in boots when you've got the Spandex twins? I fold the map and shove it in my backpack.

“Bishop flirts, but he doesn’t date them,” Dillon whispers.

“What?”

“Those girls. They follow him around, hanging on him like he’s a mountain god or something…”

He’s certainly ripped enough to be one. I press my lips together, so I don’t say something awkward.

“But he doesn’t date any of them.”

Interesting.

Mr. Russo waves us onto the trail to start the hike, doing a headcount. “Twelve. A little bigger group this time.”

“Thirteen with you,” Dillon says.

“Hmm? Oh, right.” Mr. Russo waves to Dillon and Bishop. “Back soon!”

We start up the narrow trail, and it's not long before the group buddies up. It's not wide enough for three people, and everyone here seems to know each other.

I talked to a couple of them during the first hour, but the trail grew steeper, until I was huffing for breath at the back of the group and cursing myself for not breaking in my new boots. Mr. Russo called for a break a few minutes ago when we reached this pretty little clearing.

“Drink some water and snack up. Don't leave anything behind,” he says as everyone finds stumps or boulders to sit with their friends.

Most of my water is already gone. I've been sweating through my layers, chugging it down as we walked. The granola bar gives me a little boost of energy. Or maybe that's because I heard someone say we'd be heading back down after this.

The clouds are getting darker overhead, but this hike was only supposed to last four hours at most. I should be home and showered by the time this storm hits.

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