Page 77 of Two-Step
“You meantiny houseas in areal tiny house?”
He gives a half nod. “It’s the real thing.”
“That. Is. So. Cool.”
Beau’s smile stretches wide again. Like he’s glad I approve. And why the heck wouldn’t I?
“Ready?” He gestures toward the trail.
“Yeah!” Even though it’s only been about a month since I was on a trail, the forest calls me like an ancestral home.
We set off, Mica leading the way, pulling the leash taut, knowing instinctively to follow the trail. As soon as we slip into the trees, Beau grabs my wrist, bringing me to a halt.
“Just stop for a sec.”
I glance down to where he’s touching me.Heat. He lets go, and I look back. His eyes hold mine for just a moment, and then he aims them at the tops of the trees.
“Just listen for a minute.”
We’re barely on the trail, maybe a quarter mile from the road we came in on, but it’s quiet. That natural quiet that only a forest can hold. Which is not quiet at all.
Because it’s alive.
The wind dances through the forest, rocking the treetops and smearing white clouds across a blue-tinted sky. The bird call is a map of sound, spreading out in all directions around us. Mockingbirds. Warblers. Ducks. I’m only an amateur birder, but it’s still early in the day, and the birdfolk have a lot to say.
The celebration of morning from all the winged life is one of the best things about waking up in the woods.
Feeling like I’ve come home, I take a deep breath and heave a sigh.
“Good, right?” Beau asks, grinning.
“So good.”
He nods, his eyes smiling. “Let’s go.”
We take off. The trail and leaf mold underfoot are damp with a recent rain, and the air is heavy with moisture, but the ground here isn’t muddy. And, yeah, it’s humid, but the breeze and the shade make the morning cool enough for comfort.
I see a mile marker ahead of us,19written out in reflective white.
“What’s up with that?” I ask.
“Oh. We’re starting at the end.”
I laugh. “Why?”
Beau hooks his thumbs under the straps of his pack and grins down at me. “Well, I’m guessing we’re not doing the whole twenty-mile loop, right?”
“Definitely not.”
On the AT, Sally and I kept to a schedule of averaging about twelve miles a day, and that was challenging because in order to average twelve, you have to account for at least one—maybe two—zero days, depending on how the weather treats you. So when the hiking is good and the weather is clear, you really need to cover fifteen miles. And fifteen miles in one day is serious hiking.
“And how far do you want to go?” he asks.
I shrug. “If we’re doing an out-and-back and you need to leave by three, I guess no more than about four or five miles in?” I suggest, watching him to gage his reaction.
Beau nods, unruffled by the prospect of a nine or ten-mile hike. “Good, then we’re going the right way.”
I like his certainty. “Why?”
