Page 15 of Swept for Forever
“I dunno, Dom. Last time you went hiking, youGoogled‘how to walk downhill safely.’”
“Hey! Don’t twist my history,” I complained. “I was a perfectly average lawyer until I lost a bet with an adrenaline-junkie client. Next thing I know, I’m learning to belay and start fires without matches. Turns out, surviving’s kinda addictive.”
He laughed. “When were you thinking of heading out?”
I glanced at the sun. There were still some hours left. “Now.”
“You’re eager,” he said, then looked me over. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Got everything I need.”
He gave my shoulder a pat and turned as Hank called hisname. I gave Caramel one last wary look before heading back to the truck.
Hiking in Montana was different.
In California, most trails were neatly marked and packed with weekend warriors in overpriced gear. In Utah, the trails I’d hiked were carved into red rock, the air dry and heavy with dust. But even then, there were plenty of other hikers.
Montana?
Montana waswild.
The dirt trail beneath my boots wasn’t groomed to perfection. It was uneven, scattered with roots and loose rocks waiting to trip me up. And the air was crisp and fresh in a way that made my lungs work harder.
There was no distant chatter from other hikers, no quick exits, and no guardrails.
Just pine trees towering overhead, birds calling somewhere out of sight, and the unsettling awareness thatif something happened to me out here, it’d take a while before anyone found my body.
I adjusted my pack, shaking off the thought. I could get used to this.
Hell, I’d have to.
I kept walking. You couldn’t inhale this kind of quiet back in the city. It smelled like real freedom and, at the same time, the hush of being small. A few more minutes brought me to a clearing, one that opened wide to a view that made me still.
The Buffaloberry River curled below, winding between dense forest and sunlight.
Up here, the world didn’t shout. It didn’t tally your worth by how loud you were, how fast you answered, or how hardyou hit back. You could be unsure. And if you were weak, nature didn’t mock you. It just showed you, plain and honest.
For once, I didn’t have to fear the judgment. Not from clients, rivals, or my own reflection. Not even from my old man.
The heart attack was the shove. But the wilderness? That was the escape.
I tipped my head back, my eyes closed. I felt the sun warming my skin and heard nothing but wind and birds.
Yeah, I’d made the right call.
The river ran close for a stretch, then slipped away as the trail climbed.
And then?—
Barking.
Loud. Nonstop. Getting closer.
I tensed, my hand on the bear spray at my belt. Maybe it worked on more than bears. I was about to find out.
The underbrush rustled. I locked my knees, bracing, not running. Running was how one got chased.
But this wasn’t a coyote or a stray mistaking me for lunch.
