Mason

I put my hand over his mouth and held him.

I kept my eyes open until they burned because I was sure that if I closed them, I'd feel hands on my ankles.

The deer scraped the rock again, once, and then the footsteps moved away.

Not uphill, not downhill, just a way into the trees, like it knew it didn't need to force us out right then, like it was fine with us sitting there all night injured and trapped.

When daylight came, it came thin and gray.

We didn't move until we could see clearly.

The slope below us opened into older growth and then, beyond that, a cut of land that looked different, less tangled.

I climbed out first, shaking, every muscle sore, every breath sharp.

Caleb followed, limping.

His jacket was torn open at the side.

There was a long scrape along his ribs where the antler had caught him.

He could walk, but he was slowing down.

We left things behind without discussing it, anything that wasn't essential.

We moved downhill because downhill was the only direction that felt like it might eventually hit a road or a river or a sign, something made by people.

We didn't speak much.

When we did, it was practical.

Water.

Stop.

keep going behind us sometimes we heard branches shift and once i saw a pale shape between trees that could have been sunlight on bark but it held too steady to be light by mid-afternoon we hit something that felt like a miracle a narrow gravel road not maintained but real pressed into the mountain with tire tracks and a ditch line we stepped onto it and just stood there stunned as if the road might vanish if we acted too confident

We started walking along it, not knowing which way led to anything, just grateful that it was straight.