Of the Trees(23)

“Dinner?” Cassie asked. She sat in the entrance to the shelter, wrapping her arms around her knees. It was quiet under the trees, the sounds of nature soft around them, the sounds of civilization non-existent. She liked the feeling, liked that there was only her and Ryan and no one else. Unbidden, the hewed set of eyes flashed in her mind, pulled her gaze down the path and toward the tree they were carved on. She blinked and looked back to Ryan, not willing to allow the whittling to intrude between them.

Ryan nodded, lighting the stove. “Nothing fancy,” he said, pulling some foil pouches from the pack. “I’ve got spaghetti and meat sauce or chicken fajitas. Which one do you want to try?”

“Didn’t we have the fajitas already?” Cassie asked.

“No, you’re thinking of the chicken teriyaki. We had that last month.”

“I liked that one,” Cassie said, remembering one of the many dinners she and Ryan had shared since they started hiking. He started buying them midsummer, trying out the different brands and meals. “Let’s try the fajitas.”

Ryan crouched by his mini burner and poured some of his water into a small pan, setting it to boil. He rocked back on his heels, his gaze toward the trees. The light was leaching from the sky, the trees darkening to black pillars against a violet backdrop. It blurred his features, softening them. Cassie unzipped her own pack, bringing her water bottle out. She sipped, leaning back on her elbows. The shelter was cool, the depths of it shadowed and musky. She flipped her phone on, using the light to sweep through the empty corners.

“Is this where you’ll sleep?” she asked, looking from the cold, wood floor to Ryan.

“If it’s raining,” he answered, watching the steam start to swirl from the heating water. “I think I’d like to be out in the open better, under the stars.”

Cassie hummed in appreciation, her gaze darting up to the bare trees branches, weaving in the wind. “When will you start, this summer?”

He nodded, looking thoughtful. She ached at the acknowledgment, which surprised her. She knew he’d be going, that it was what he was preparing for. What she didn’t expect was how left out that would make her feel.

“I can’t do the whole thing this summer, school gets out too late,” he said. “But if I start next May—”

“What about college?” Cassie asked, watching as he took the water off the burner, pouring it straight into the foil pouch. He propped the pouch against a rock, turning back to his pack and pulling out a clear bag filled with tortillas. He ripped it open, handing her two of the soft, flat shells.

“I’ll go for the first semester, and take a leave of absence for the second,” Ryan answered finally, gesturing her forward. She held her hand out, and he scooped a portion of the cooked fajita mix into her tortilla. It warmed her palm as she closed the wrap.

“It’ll take you longer,” she said, pausing to bite into her dinner. It wasn’t the best wrap she ever had, but it was warm and filling, and after an afternoon of hiking, there wasn’t anything else she needed. “To graduate, I mean.”

“Yeah,” he answered, chewing slowly. “But I don’t want to wait another four years, get out of shape or chicken out. It’s something I want to do, so I’m gonna do it.”

“And this summer? What are your plans then?”

“I was thinking Maine to Pennsylvania,” he answered. “West Virginia maybe, if I’m making good time.”

Cassie sat in thoughtful silence, thinking over the logistics. Maine was a hard starting point. Ryan had told her that the trails there were steep and the going rough. But he was fit, and he would be prepared. She wondered, briefly, if she could do it. Could she cut herself off from everyone—her parents, Laney—and hike, day in and day out, through cold nights and sweaty days, just her and Ryan and the stars and trees?

The picture that formed in her mind was heady. It was a challenge, but it was more than that: it was the excitement, the independence, the thrill of being on her own, answering to no one, setting pace with only their matched stride to move forward.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asked quietly. Cassie stiffened, glancing up at him. He avoided her gaze, scooping more fajita mix into his last tortilla. She took another bite, finishing her first wrap before she went to answer. She was swallowing when he spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, offering her a shaky smile. “I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Cassie said quickly, awkwardly holding her other wrap out. Ryan scooped the last of the food into her waiting palm. “It’s just—”

“It’s a lot,” he interrupted, nodding. “I get it.”

“It’s not that,” she argued, shaking her head. “If I’m being honest, I’ve thought about it.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, looking up and through the trees. The sky beyond was dusky purple now, the moon shining like a silver thumbnail above the branches. She could only make out Ryan’s outline now, but the eagerness of his tone left her in no doubt to the expression that lit his face.

“It would be incredible,” Ryan rushed to say, pouncing now that he saw she held some interest. “No distractions, no phones, just the woods, the things we would see, the people we would meet. You and me.”