Page 11 of Swept for Forever
I adjusted and kept my steps even and controlled enough not to do more damage, but fast enough that I wouldn’t be stuck out here another night.
The sun had finally started breaking through the clouds. I tilted my face toward it, tracking its position.
South.
IhopedI was going south.
I had no phone. No GPS. No backup plan.
But I still had two working legs.
Well, one and a half, maybe.
So I kept walking.
The sun had burned off the last of the morning chill and turned relentless. After dragging myself through every uphill scramble and downhill slide, I finally saw it. A wooden trail sign, grayed and cracked with age, but still upright. The rectangular board was mounted to a single post with metal brackets.
Buffaloberry Hill — 6 miles
I stared.
Then, before I could stop myself, I whooped.
Triumphant. Borderline unhinged.
“Eat that, Jimmy Van Beek! Iknowhow to hike.” I threw my arms wide, resisting the urge to shout it up the hill. Stiff-Neck might still be lurking, but I already had a running list in my head of how to make toenail Jimmy regret ever standing me up.
For just that moment, I forgot everything else.
The soaked clothes. The twisted ankle. And the fact that my last sip of water had been…well, long enough ago that I probably should’ve been more concerned.
But I only had to make it six more miles.
I forced my aching legs into motion, picking up my pace just enough to push forward. I needed to get out of these woods.
And I did, mostly. The trees thinned until I was out on open rock, the treeline shrinking below me. No shade. No cover. Just heat. My mouth felt like sandpaper.
“God, I need water,” I muttered.
I rubbed my eyes. There was a shimmer of blue between the trees below. Water. But it flickered out like a mirage.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
If only my bottle had still been functioning, with no bullet holes and no crisis, then I could’ve gotten all the water from the rain last night. My head pounded, my tongue felt thick, and I kept blinking just to stay sharp. I was stupid-thirsty. Stupid enough to start seeing things.
Then, I spotted the sign.
Buffaloberry River →
I squinted and really stared, making sure I wasn’t imagining it. It looked legit, with the same shape and mounting asthe one I passed earlier, but older. The arrow pointed toward a narrow dip in the trees.
“Finally,” I breathed. “Okay. Let’s go.”
It looked doable. A shallow slope, a few trees to grab onto. Nothing I couldn’t manage.
“One tree at a time,” I told myself. “You’ve done dumber stuff than this.”
Then the ground dropped out harder than expected. Steeper. Slicker. The kind of descent that’d eat you alive on the way back up without ropes or common sense.
