by Emily Bybee
Around noon we stopped at a camping supply store and got the necessities—which to my great relief included sleeping bags. Sam paid with cash. He’d thought ahead enough to borrow several thousand dollars from his mom’s safe.
Good thing he did, since my magic was now useless, and I had about twenty bucks in my pocket. At the moment, I was just another normal human. I doubted my singing and dancing abilities would help us at this point.
Sam gently shook my shoulder. I must have fallen asleep on the ride. He’d stopped at a campground outside Yellowstone National Park. The camp wasn’t open for the season yet, so we hid the car and hiked a few miles in. It was safer than staying in a hotel. The fewer eyes on us the better.
Hopefully the arctic sleeping bags we’d bought would be warm enough in the late March weather. At least we’d have a cabin. With the grounds closed we just needed to worry about the off-season caretaker, which meant no fire until after dark, and no running water.
Sam had insisted on buying me new socks, boots, thermal underthings, and about every other article of outdoor clothes the shop carried. Now I wished I’d thrown safety blankets in the cart as well. I adjusted my coat and pulled my stocking hat lower to cover my ears. As the sun edged toward the horizon, the temperature dropped. Fast.
Just as I was about to suggest a large tree looked like a splendid place for the night Sam pointed up ahead through the underbrush. “That one looks good.” The outline of a cabin appeared ahead of us. “It’s far enough off the regular trails I doubt anyone will be around to see us.”
“I’d say it’s far enough off the trails,” I panted. “Let’s go.”
The cabin sported a raised bed platform—no mattress—a pair of wooden chairs and a table. Behind the structure about twenty feet or so, sat an outhouse that leaned to the right a bit but stayed upright for the most part.
I snapped my gaping mouth shut. When he’d said cabin, my mind didn’t supply anything close to this ramshackle mess. “Wow, this is…” My brain searched for the right word. “Simple.”
His arms slid around my waist. “I think they’re calling it modern-rustic.”
“I’d call it knock-it-over-and-rebuild.”
He released me. “It’s a roof. I’ll be back in a few,” Sam said from the door. “Why don’t you get the sleeping bags unpacked and open a couple cans of soup?”
“Sure, no problem.”
After the door closed behind him, I contemplated the lone sleeping platform. I unrolled the sleeping mats, finally understanding why he’d insisted we buy good ones, and then threw the sleeping bags over. A chill tickled my spine. The cabin wasn’t any warmer than outside. Even in all my clothes and coat I doubted the bag would provide enough warmth. Biting my lip, I hesitated for a second then unzipped the bags and re-zipped them together, making one large bag.
We’ll need the body warmth. My cheeks burned—it was good to know one part of my body wouldn’t freeze. I took off my gloves and flexed my chilled fingers. Working the cans of soup open took some time but they sat on the table ready for Sam to get back.
Full nighttime settled outside, and I paced inside the dark cabin. Much as I longed to grab the lantern or flashlight, I forced myself to wait for Sam. Thirty minutes passed. No Sam.
I ran my tongue over my teeth and contemplated the door. The what-if game played in my head. He could have easily tripped in the dark. He could be hurt. What if the council had found him?
That did it—I had to know.
Flashlight in hand, I headed out the door. Before I got a few feet from the cabin, a crunching in the dense underbrush stopped me as if my feet had grown roots. I swung the light in the direction of the sound, expecting a bear, mountain lion, or worse, council goons, to be coming out at me.
Sam squinted in the glare of the light, his arms full of wood and some type of vegetation. “Hey, mind pointing that at the ground so I can see?”
A stale breath exploded from my mouth. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he said, and followed the trail of light I provided until he was next to me. “I wanted to be sure I got enough wood for the night.” He kissed my cheek and dropped the stack on a pile of broken limbs next to the door then held up a fistful of green leaves. “And I got us some salad.”
I squinted my eyes. “Are those dandelions?”
“Yep, great nutrients and available most of the year.”
“Yummy,” I said with no conviction. “Did you happen to find any candy bar trees? Because I could use some chocolate about now.”
Sam insisted I watch him build the fire so I could learn to do it myself. We cooked the soup in the cans and rinsed the greens—which weren’t nearly as bad as I’d feared.
The fire cast a golden glow over the single room and pushed back a good amount of the cold. As we got ready for bed, Sam spotted the single large sleeping bag. His brows raised but he said nothing.
I prepared to climb in coat and all, still chilled to the bone.
“Um.” Sam cleared his throat behind me. “You’re going to roast if you keep all that on.”
“I’m freezing,” I protested.
He held up his hand in surrender and took off his own coat and clothes down to his base layer, which hugged his muscled arms, legs, and other parts—not that I was looking—then banked the fire. In only a single layer of thermal underwear he climbed into the sleeping bag.
Chewing on my lip, I fidgeted with the zipper on my coat. This presented a situation I hadn’t thought of when I’d joined the bags together.
“Clara, I’m not going to bite you,” Sam chuckled.
“I know. I’m trying to decide if I’ll be warm enough.” With that, I stripped down to my own thermals and climbed onto the platform, only stepping on Sam twice in the awkward process.
Finally, I slid down the bag, already warming up from his body heat. In the snug space there was no room not to be touching. My cheeks burned enough to heat the entire cabin. I adjusted and accidentally put my hand on his thigh. We’d made-out plenty and touched a thousand times in the dances for Grease but lying in bed together in only thin thermals was a whole different ballgame.
Rolling on my side, I elbowed him in the stomach. “Oh, sorry.”
He laughed. “Don’t be sorry. Just come here and quit rolling around. You’re letting all the heat out.” He tugged on my arm. “I’ll keep you warm.”
I slid closer, and he pulled my body against his. Our bodies fit perfectly— two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle snapped together. And he did keep me warm.
Chapter 12
The sound of the zipper penetrated my cozy cocoon, but the shock of cold air where Sam’s warmth had been jerked me awake. He sat on the bottom of the platform, getting dressed. The sun barely shown over the horizon out the lone window.
I blinked. “Where are you going?”
“We’ve got a long hike and more driving to do. Better get an early start.”
This was a different Sam than the laid-back boy I knew. His voice sounded firm, no nonsense—a soldier. My leg muscles screamed at the thought of re-hiking the same path we’d done yesterday. I pushed back the sleeping bag and set about packing and getting dressed.
He caught my hand and pressed it to his lips. “Don’t worry downhill will be faster and easier.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’d better be.”
The hike out only took us forty-five minutes. I shoved our packs in the back of the Jeep while Sam pulled off the branches we’d used to camouflage the vehicle. At least the paint was green and not cherry red.
Sam drove. Since we couldn’t change cars with my magic, we needed to put as much distance between us and the council as fast as possible. I navigated, now that I knew a general destination—north-west Montana.
Hours into the drive the woman from the nail shop flashed in my head, and I gripped the map tighter.
“Hey, navigator,” Sam said. “You going to tell me which exit?”
I blinked and nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Take t
he next one and we should be able to find some stores.”
Missoula was one of the last large cities we’d be passing through on our way to Glacier National Park. Stocking up there would make us less likely to stick out.
Sam pulled into a parking lot and found a spot. “Ready?”
After being in the car all day it took my legs a few steps to remember how to walk. I got a cart and followed Sam around the extensive outdoor section of the store as he threw in hatchets, fishing gear, a first-aid kit, and some things I didn’t even recognize. With each item part of my heart dropped to my feet.
This was our life now. I’d robbed Sam of a normal life, of ever seeing his parents again. I blinked back tears as Maddie’s sweet little face smiled at me from memories of pushing her high on the swing.
Sam’s strong arms wrapped around me before I knew the tears had spilled over onto my cheeks. He steered us to an empty aisle. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet for hours.”
I pressed my face into his chest. “I shouldn’t have gotten you into this. You can still leave. Go back home.”
“Are you kidding?” His arms tightened around me. “My only life is with you.”
“But your parents, your friends,” I choked back a sob.
“I know. And I’ll miss them.” Sam admitted. “But my place is with you. Unless you don’t want me.”
The question hung in the air and I looked up into his face. “I don’t know how I’d go on without you.”
One side of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin. “First of all, you’d be freezing your butt off.”
I wiped my tears on his shirt. “No, I’d be staying in a hotel.” I sniffed. “On a beach somewhere.”
“Probably the first place they’d look for you.”
I shrugged. “Probably, but without you I wouldn’t care if I got caught.”
“What would they do,” he asked in a hushed voice as if in asking he might make it happen. “If they caught you?”
“Drag me back to get married, I guess. I haven’t heard of them killing anyone or anything.”
He released me and examined a camping stove on the shelf. “And me?”
“You’d never know you met me,” I murmured. “Or at least that we had anything together.”
He stepped directly in front of me and took my upper arms in his hands. Our gazes locked. “I don’t care what they did to me. I’d never forget you.” His jaw muscle bulged, and he spoke as if swearing an oath, “Never.”
I put my hand on his cheek. “I love you.”
He pulled me in for a not-so-PG kiss then released me. “Okay, so let’s check out.”
“Wait.” I held up a hand to stop him as he headed to the register. “I now realize I have one necessity.”
His brows drew together. “What?”
I grabbed a five-pound bag of fun-size candy bars. “Chocolate.”
“Okay,” he chuckled. “But remember you have to carry the weight in your pack.”
I contemplated the bag, licking my lips, then sighed and grabbed a two-pound bag instead. I tossed it in the cart and wrinkled my nose at him. “Meanie.”
The checkout, with all the expensive equipment and dried meals Sam bought, took most of the rest of our cash. With any luck, we’d have enough for gas. We headed north out of Missoula. I focused on the beautiful landscape out my window, pretending we were in the mountains of Colorado, not hundreds of miles away.
Sam pointed out places he remembered from the summers his dad brought him here. “We are right between the Blackfoot and Flathead Indian reservations. So, we need to make sure we stay headed north. We’d stick out a bit.”
I nodded. “How far north are we going?”
“I’m not sure if it’s past the Canadian border.” He glanced sideways and sent me a wink. “There aren’t exactly lines drawn on the ground.”
We crested a ridge and I gasped at the mind-blowing landscape. Mountain peaks, still covered in snow, surrounded us with deep valleys in between. I sucked in a breath. “We’re going to hike that?”
Sam squeezed my knee. “Don’t worry. We can take our time once we ditch the car.”
He literally meant ditch the car. Part way up the park road we pushed the Jeep into the deepest ditch we found and threw branches over it for good measure. No one would find the vehicle anytime soon.
I slid my new pack onto my back, the thing practically as tall as me. The weight pressed into my shoulders, and I rethought bringing the couple pounds of chocolate. Sam carried at least twice the weight I did, if not more, but he didn’t even grunt as he lifted the ridiculously large pack.
“Ready?”
“Let’s do this before I fall over.”
He laughed and checked his compass before heading into the woods, carefully bending branches so as not to break them and leave an easy trail. I followed suit and we found a rhythm. The soft noises of the forest surrounded us and some tension remaining in my muscles relaxed, but not all.
Over the next two weeks the days blurred together. We stayed far away from any main trails, which made our progress slower. I caught myself almost using my magic for a simple task, stopping just in time. Being an ungifted would take some getting used to.
Much to Sam’s delight, my magically dyed blond hair showed dark roots after a week. With my hair parted down the middle I brushed out the tangled mess.
Sam’s chortle echoed off the rocky canyon.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He busied himself with his pack.
“Don’t give me that.” I settled one hand on my hip. “Spill.”
He bit his lip to hold in another laugh. “You reminded me of a skunk with the stripe down the middle of your head.”
“A skunk?” I sputtered then looked for something to throw at him and settled on a loose glob of clay-like dirt.
He held his backpack up as a shield. “A sweet little brunette skunk,” he called from behind his defense. “It looks cute on you.”
I wrinkled my nose and pulled the offending hair into a ponytail. “What’s going to be really awesome is when it’s half grown out.” I sighed. “How do you live life without magic?”
“No worries. I’ve heard the two-tone look is coming in style.” He dropped the pack, walked forward and wrapped his arms around me. He nuzzled my neck until I couldn’t help but laugh.
Each day I was shocked by the beauty surrounding us, and by how cold my feet could get when my head was dripping sweat. At night Sam set up a small fire after clearing snow off the branches of the tree we were camping under. The freeze-dried meals were surprisingly good, and I treated myself to one candy bar a night. Snuggled in our two-person bag Sam didn’t even protest when I put my ice-cube toes on his warm legs.
I sat on a rock and lifted my pack, surprised I didn’t have callouses on my shoulders by now. “It feels lighter.” I adjusted the straps.
“It’s all the chocolate you’ve been eating,” Sam teased.
I shot him a glare that didn’t pack much heat.
He came over and kissed my nose, now the tannest I’d ever been. “You’re getting stronger. Pretty soon you’ll look like the Hulk.”
I smacked his chest. “Not funny.”
He started down the trail and the day went on in the same rhythm, except Maddie kept popping up in my brain. Would she ever understand I’d done this not only for me but for her? I missed her sweet face and mostly her hysterical personality. Hopefully one day Abby would explain it all.
Three weeks in, I was the one building the fires at night and I could spot and name at least ten different edible plants as well as ten poisonous ones to watch for.
Sam grinned proudly at the stable fire. “Next we’ll have you setting snare traps and skinning rabbits.”
My mouth dropped. “Skinning?” I swallowed. I’d never even cut up a chicken. “I’ll stick with my candy bars. I’m not exactly the outdoorsy type.”
He pulled me close. “We can fix that.”
The ne
xt day we continued our hike north. At this point I was waiting to see some polar bears. We had to be approaching the arctic circle by now. As we crested a hill, Sam stopped in front of me.
“What is it?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.
“I was worried I took us too far east.” Sam stepped aside.
Before me lay the most beautiful valley I’d ever seen. A stream trickled glacier water down the center of the dense forest, forming a small pond at the end due to a beaver damn. Densely packed vegetation covered the ground under the towering evergreens.
“Come on, let’s see if the cabin is still there.” He headed down the incline.
“Do you mean like two boards nailed together and a tarp? I know your definition of a cabin. But I’ll admit at this point a roof would be nice.”
We almost missed the wooden structure as the undergrowth had taken it over. While some of the wood had seen better days, the roof was sound and the fireplace, made with cobblestones from the river, sat solid and strong.
For an instant I wished I could use my magic to fix the rotted timbers in the walls and the broken window. I pushed the thought away. I hadn’t just hiked a million miles to send up a locator beacon to the council who was definitely looking for us at this point.
It took nine days of sweat and maybe a few tears, but Sam and I replaced the rotted boards in the cabin. Once he was certain the floor was safe, we moved our gear inside and he set to work on building us furniture.
Mountain mornings in early May had a definite chill but the spring plants didn’t seem to mind. While Sam worked on furniture, I wandered through the forest, collecting edible greens. As I rounded a bend, closer to the pond than I’d ventured before, red caught my eye in the leaves covering the ground. I practically squealed with delight as I recognized the little wild strawberries. Fresh fruit was a distant luxury. I set about picking the tiny berries, loading up my stocking hat with as many ripe ones as I could find. When I got back to the cabin Sam was setting a table and two hand-carved chairs under our plastic covered window.