Narrator

The kind of country where the daylight looks clean and harmless until the sun tips and the whole world goes blue and quiet.

It was supposed to be a week-long hiking trip, nothing heroic.

Seven days, moderate mileage, a loop stitched together from a long trail.

and a handful of side trails that let you drop down to water and climb back up to camp.

We'd planned it like adults.

We printed maps.

We set waypoints.

We left our route with my sister and told her not to be polite about calling for help if we missed check-ins.

We did everything right, in other words, and it still happened.

The cast, the gear, the reason we went.

My name isn't important.

Call me Noah.

I was 30 at the time, in decent shape, the kind of guy who runs three miles a couple times a week and thinks that qualifies as outdoorsy.

I'm not a survivalist.

I don't own tactical gear.

I don't have a wall of knives.

I like hiking because it scrubs the noise out of my head for a while.

My friend was named Luke.

He was two years younger than me, lean, stubborn, and annoyingly competent at anything with a strap or a buckle.

He'd done longer sections than me.