The Wild

by Owen Laukkanen

  Dawn’s just focused on staying upright, for now. And in a few days, she’s going to hate herself for it.

  In the meantime, though, she’s about to nearly die.

  IT HAPPENS BECAUSE SHE’S TIRED. She’s tired and the ground is slippery and her legs are sore and her new pack isn’t sitting right on her back and she’s trying to fake her way down this rocky ravine that kind of cuts the ridge in half.

  Honestly, it would be terrifying even if you weren’t half-dead from exhaustion and fear and didn’t have crazy blisters on your feet. Dawn’s standing on top of this ledge, staring straight down at a little half-assed trail that kind of clings to the rock face, barely wide enough for both of her size 6 hiking boots, much less that big freaking pack. One side is solid rock. The other is a sheer drop, fifty feet if she’s lucky, punctuated by jagged shards of rock and stubby little trees that would probably impale you. Even Christian and Amber are taking it slow; Amber keeps looking back up the rocks at Dawn with a concerned look on her face, and shouting something about making sure to keep a good handhold and taking it slow and everything will be fine.

  Easy for you to say, Dawn thinks. You do this shit for a living.

  Anyway, Dawn’s clinging to the ledge and reaching for her next handhold and trying not to look down and trying not to think about falling—which only makes it worse, of course—and she’s doing okay until she gets to this little section where the trail literally ends and there’s just a gap in the rocks at her feet with a couple of handholds and then nothing but air and the long drop, and to get down to the next part of the trail she realizes she’s going to have to let go of the rocks and turn around to face backward and, like, step back off the ledge and reach down blindly with her feet until she finds somewhere to step.

  And the trail’s only like six feet below her but then it’s just another ledge with another long drop below that, so if she loses her grip or slips or whatever she’ll probably bounce off the trail and keep falling until she lands, splat, at the bottom of the ravine.

  Dawn’s kind of hyperventilating. She stops at the gap and holds on to the rocks and wishes she were anywhere but here.

  (Jail, for example.)

  (Or even high school.)

  She wishes she could turn around and run back up to the top of the ridge and follow the cairns back across the ridge and down the other side to the Out of the Wild home base, where there’s a phone and vans and a road that leads somewhere where decisions like these won’t ever be a part of her life.

  And she might be trying it, too, if Warden and Brielle weren’t stacked up on the trail behind/above her, grabbing hold of their own rocks for balance and waiting and watching her have a near nervous breakdown on the middle of this wall.

  They’re all laughing at you, she thinks. They’re standing there judging you, talking shit about you.

  They all think you’re a big fucking loser.

  Dawn can feel Warden’s and Brielle’s eyes on her. They don’t say anything, but she can feel how they’re staring. She closes her eyes—fuck it—and before she can think twice, she kind of awkwardly shuffles around so she’s facing the rocks and her back’s to the clouds, and then she takes a step back into open air and lets go of the cliff face with one hand and starts to lower herself down, feeling around with her toes for someplace to land.

  And it’s just as Dawn finds solid ground with her left foot and just as she lets go of the cliff with her other hand and starts to climb down that disaster strikes.

  The ground gives way.

  Dawn’s foot slips.

  Something in her backpack shifts and it fucks up her balance and sends her teetering backward, her arms windmilling the air, her hands grabbing at the rocks for anything to save her,

  but

  she’s slipping too fast

  falling out of control

  she feels herself tripping backward

  and

  she knows this is it.

  WE HAVEN’T TALKED MUCH about Warden.

  I mean, you know who he is and that he’s a Polar Bear. You know that he’s athletic and muscular and cute.

  You might have guessed he’ll play a bigger role in this story, eventually.

  (It was probably the brooding that gave it away.)

  But we haven’t really seen much of Warden, not yet.

  * * *

  Not until now.

  SOMEONE GRABS DAWN’S HAND.

  Arrests her fall.

  Holds on to her, tight, just as she’s bracing for impact. Just as she’s mentally saying her goodbyes.

  (Bye, Nana. Bye, Bryce.)

  (Fuck you, Cam.)

  Someone saves her life, holds her steady, stops her from falling and keeps her in place until her feet find firmer ground.

  And Dawn kind of hangs there, hugging the rocks, breathing hard, wondering why she isn’t dead, and she realizes she’s still holding on to whoever just saved her.

  And she looks up, and it’s Warden. And Warden’s staring down at her.

  And Warden has the greenest eyes she’s ever seen.

  (Because of course he does.)

  “HOLD UP A SECOND.”

  Dawn’s made it down to the bottom of the ravine and halfway up the other side. The rest of the Bear Pack is already at the top, chilling up on the ridge again, and Dawn is kind of in shock, half replaying that sick weightless feeling when she started to fall, and half replaying Warden’s green eyes, that deep, serious stare.

  He hadn’t said anything, just held on to her until he was sure she was safe, and then he’d watched, his brow furrowed, as she lowered herself down the cliff and she’d touched down on the trail again and could feel herself blushing, her heart pounding rapid-fire like she’d just done a line, and she’d avoided his eyes and made her way down the rest of the ravine without looking back.

  And frankly, Dawn’s hoping she can just climb up the other side with the rest of the Pack and forget about what just transpired right there, forget how scared she is of these stupid heights and how embarrassed she is at messing up and nearly dying, forget the stupid butterflies in her stupid stomach that went haywire as soon as she realized it was Warden holding on to her, as soon as she realized she was literally safe in his arms.

  But Warden has other ideas.

  “Yo, hold up,” he says again, and Dawn looks down the winding switchback trail to where Warden is steadily catching up to her, not breaking a sweat or even breathing heavily as he climbs.

  (Dawn can see the muscles in his arms work as he pulls himself up, and how lean and solid his body looks under his shirt, and she feels herself blushing again and tries not to pay attention.)

  (She looks away and continues up the trail.)

  “Thanks,” she calls over her shoulder, trying not to sound like she’s just noticing that he’s, you know, hot. “I almost bit it back there.”

  “Yeah,” Warden says, and even his voice is sexy, deeper than it has any right to be, and as solemn and serious as the rest of him. “Hey, wait up a second.”

  “I’m good,” Dawn replies. She doesn’t slow down. “It’s all good.”

  “No,” Warden says. “It’s not.”

  Dawn slows and looks back at him, kind of surprised. “It’s not?”

  “No.” Warden closes the last ten feet or so. They’re nearly at the top of the ridge; Dawn can see a cairn just above them where the wall levels out onto mostly flat rock again. She waits as Warden climbs up to her.

  “Come here,” he says, and gestures to the cairn. He squeezes past Dawn, and with nothing else to do, Dawn follows.

  Warden is waiting at the top of the ravine, hands on his hips. He beckons Dawn to come closer. Dawn puts on a nonchalant face and does what Warden wants.

  “Hey,” she says.

  Warden’s still brooding. �
�You almost died back there,” he tells her.

  “Yeah, I know,” Dawn says. “Thank you so much. If you hadn’t caught me, I would be—”

  “You know why?” Warden says.

  “I—what?”

  “Do you know why you fell?”

  Dawn kind of shrugs. “I just, like, slipped a little bit. That trail was so narrow. Thank God you were there, huh?”

  “No.” Warden reaches out and Dawn flinches, like he’s going to hit her or something. But he’s only grabbing hold of her pack’s shoulder straps.

  “Your pack isn’t tight enough,” he says, and he grips the straps tight and tugs, hard enough that Dawn stumbles and nearly falls into him. The straps tighten around her, though, and she can feel the pack sitting closer to her body, firm and steady.

  “Your weight shifted at the exact wrong possible moment and it ruined your balance,” Warden says. “You have to make sure everything’s done up right.”

  “Oh,” Dawn replies, hating how small and childish her voice sounds.

  Warden finishes with her shoulder straps. Reaches around Dawn’s side to her hips and pulls the straps there tight, too. There’s nothing romantic about what he’s doing, and yet it’s possibly kind of sexy, how strong he is, and how serious, how he’s obviously concerned about her.

  (Or maybe it’s just been too long since Dawn hooked up with anyone. Either way, she’s immediately conscious of how close Warden’s standing—and how bad she must smell.)

  When Warden’s done with the straps, he stands straight and examines her. “How does that feel?”

  Dawn tests the straps. The backpack is sitting firm now, like it’s an extension of her body. And Warden’s green eyes are fixed on hers.

  “Uh, good?” she says.

  “ ‘Uh, good?’ ” Suddenly there’s a smirk in those green eyes. “Does it really feel okay, or are you just trying to get me away from you?” Warden cocks his head. “I might not be there to catch you, next time.”

  “No, it feels good,” Dawn says. She twists and turns a little bit, and the pack moves with her, nothing shifting. “It feels solid. I think I’m good now. I think—”

  She’s about to say something else, but then she glances past Warden along the length of the ridge and beyond, where the clouds have suddenly parted in the distance revealing—

  “Fart Mountain!” Dawn says before she can stop herself.

  (#FacePalm)

  Warden blinks. “Fart…Mountain?” he says slowly.

  Dawn looks back at the ravine they just climbed, wondering if it’s too late to hurl herself from the top. She can feel herself blushing again, really bad. “Yeah, it’s…” Dawn can’t even. She just points. “That’s what that mountain’s called, right?”

  Warden turns to see where she’s pointing. It’s the tallest peak in sight, just jagged rock reaching high into the clouds, mottled with little patches of snow here and there. There does not seem to be any easy way up, at least not anything visible at this distance, and just looking at it makes Dawn’s stomach feel queasy.

  Lucas was right. It’s a scary freaking mountain.

  But if Warden’s afraid, he doesn’t show it. “You mean the Raven’s Claw?” he asks her. “You call that Fart Mountain?”

  “I don’t,” Dawn hastens to assure him. “It’s—that’s what Lucas called it.”

  “Oh. Lucas.” Warden’s lip curls into something like a smirk. “Yeah, I guess that checks out.”

  They look across the ridge toward where Lucas is hiking with Alex about a hundred feet away. As if he can hear them, Lucas stops and turns around, stares back at them, shading his eyes. He sees Dawn and then he sees Warden, and he doesn’t look happy about it.

  The two guys kind of stare at each other for a beat, and it’s awkward AF.

  “Why do you call it Raven’s Claw?” Dawn asks Warden, to break the silence.

  Warden blinks. “Because that’s what it’s called,” he says, forgetting about Lucas. “I stole the counselors’ map once. That’s what it was labeled.”

  That answer makes enough sense that Dawn momentarily misses the obvious follow-up question. “Wait, you stole the map?” she asks after a beat. “Do you still have it?”

  Warden shakes his head. “Photographic memory, though.”

  “So you know where we are?”

  “I know where we are, and I know where we’re going,” Warden tells her. Then he smirks again. “And I know how to get us out of here, too.”

  DAWN HAS SO MANY QUESTIONS:

  “How did you steal the map?”

  “Are you seriously planning to escape?”

  “Why don’t you just wait and graduate?”

  “What if you die?”

  * * *

  —

  But mostly:

  “Will you take me with you?”

  * * *

  —

  She doesn’t get a chance to ask any questions, though, because it’s about at this point that Christian comes back up the trail to see what’s taking them so long.

  “What’s taking you so long?” he demands. “You’re holding everyone up.”

  Warden is unfazed. “Just fixing her straps, dude,” he says. “Don’t have a conniption.”

  Christian looks like he wants to argue the point, or at least the tone of the point. He doesn’t, though. “Get a move on,” he grumbles, and turns to lurch back along the ridge. “We don’t want to be up here at nightfall, I promise you that.”

  Dawn watches the counselor retreat. Even Christian is intimidated by Warden, she realizes. If anyone can escape this place, maybe it’s him?

  Warden meets Dawn’s eyes, gestures down the trail after Christian, one eyebrow raised like it’s all a big joke. “Shall we?” he asks.

  “We shall,” Dawn replies. She turns to follow Christian, and starts back to join the rest of the Pack.

  “IT’S NOT CALLED FART MOUNTAIN,” Dawn tells Lucas. “It’s actually the Raven’s Claw.”

  It’s nearly nightfall. They’ve hiked across the ridge for most of the day, the mountain looming ominously in front of them the whole time. Near the end of the day, they took a side trail down a steep valley, descending back below the tree line and following a rocky little creek to the shore of another lake.

  It’s warmer down here, among the trees, the ridge staring down, impassive, from high above. There’s enough wind that the bugs aren’t so bad, and even the sight of the mountain reflected on the water is kind of pretty and peaceful, as long as you don’t think about having to climb it.

  The Pack sets up for the night on the lakeshore. Dawn follows Lucas into the woods to find firewood. It’s the first time they’ve talked all day.

  “I know it’s not called Fart Mountain,” Lucas tells her. “I told you that. I just think it’s less scary if it has a dumb name.”

  “It is a dumb name,” Dawn says. “Like, I can’t even say it, it’s so dumb.”

  “I know. That’s the point.” Lucas blows out a long stream of air. “Who told you it’s called the Raven’s Claw, anyway? Is that Warden’s name for it?”

  (The way he says Warden, Dawn can tell he’s jealous.)

  “He saw it on a map,” Dawn tells him. “He said he stole the counselors’ map and now he knows exactly where we are.”

  Lucas snorts and continues looking for firewood. “Stole.”

  “Yeah, stole. You know, like took without their knowledge?”

  “Was that before or after he hooked up with her?” Lucas says without looking up.

  Dawn stares at him. “What?”

  “Amber,” Lucas says. “You didn’t know they’re sleeping together?”

  “Why would—when would they?” Dawn shakes her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Lu
cas shrugs. “You don’t have to believe me,” he says, continuing deeper into the forest. “Ask anyone. Why do you think Christian’s so mad all the time?”

  Dawn doesn’t say anything.

  “He’s jealous,” Lucas tells her. “He wants to get with Amber, but she has it for Warden, so he takes it out on everyone else. Plus, Kyla won’t even look at him, no matter how many times he fails her, so…”

  “He can’t just be mean?” Dawn asks. “Why’s it always got to come down to who likes each other?”

  Lucas shrugs again. “Everything works that way,” he says, reaching down to pick up another fallen branch. “Anyway, it got Warden a map, so who’s really complaining?”

  Something in Lucas’s tone makes Dawn realize he’s about done with the conversation, and that’s just fine with her. She lets him wander off, and she heads back to camp with her armload of firewood.

  Warden and Amber are nowhere to be found.

  IT’S ANOTHER LONG NIGHT.

  This time, Dawn isn’t worried about Fart Mountain/Raven’s Claw.

  I mean, she is worried—tomorrow they’re hiking to the base of it—but she’s mostly just thinking about Warden. And Amber. And how Warden’s hand felt in hers when he was saving her life up on that ravine. About the muscles in his arms and the green of his eyes.

  She’s thinking about how strong he was when he pulled the straps on her pack tight, how he nearly pulled her right on top of him. She’s thinking about how she maybe wouldn’t have minded being on top of Warden.

  It’s a long night.

  * * *