She never complained, though my heart ached each time she rubbed her eyes tiredly or yawned. I eased her burden the only way I could think of – by keeping her entertained. I told her stories and jokes, trying to make her laugh.
Even when I could think of nothing else to say, I regaled her with mundane tales from Yakeron. To her, it was so unique that even the most ordinary descriptions were engaging.
She stopped as infrequently as possible, wanting to get as much distance between us and IMRA as she could. At first, only the essential stops for gas were made. She kept a close eye on the gauge, knowing that running out of fuel would be a fatal mistake.
As the miles that we traveled increased, she began to relax. She made occasional breaks for food. Claire had packed a few snacks that kept us going in between, but it wasn’t enough to last without supplementing them through additional means.
She did her best to time the stops carefully. She planned them for areas where there were less traffic and prying eyes. She stopped more often in the late night or early morning hours. More than once, she drove right past a potential stop, declaring that the parking lot was too busy. We’d keep trying for another location.
She threw a blanket over me for each brief stop, ensuring that I remained hidden from view until we were safely back on the road. We never stayed in one place for long, and were always mindful of our surroundings.
We spent hours talking about our future together. We invented plans for our new hut, dreaming of what it might be like once we got to our destination. We debated the plants that we could grow, and what the garden would look like. It was all pure speculation, of course, not knowing the terrain we’d find. But it kept our minds busy and focused.
Our surroundings began to change as we drove. I couldn’t see much from my position in the back of the van, but it was clear that we were entering and exiting various regions. Sometimes we seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by fields. Other times, thick trees were my clue that we’d entered a new habitat. In each new area, the growth shifted slightly, favoring different plants.
Finally, we entered the mountain range. Frequent climbs up and down steep roads made that obvious. Jagged rock walls remained as evidence that the roads had been cut directly into the mountainside. She had to slow down and take care on the winding paths.
After many hours of this, we reached a deserted area where the vehicle could go no further. She pulled off the road at a gentle slope, driving into the vegetation. The trees were thick around us, and she steered carefully to avoid all but the saplings that she could easily mow over. Leaving the van near some dense brush, she put it in park. Then she climbed out of the driver’s side door and came around to open the back for me. I exited the vehicle, waiting for her instructions. She was the one with the plan, after all.
She looked toward the road that we had just left. It couldn’t be seen from our new position, but she paced the area to check from a few different angles. Once she was confident that we were hidden from view, she returned to me.
“We don’t want people to find the van,” she explained. “That can be traced back to IMRA, and us, and then they’ll know we’re in the area. With any luck, it’ll sit here forever, unnoticed. But we’re going to disguise it first.”
She opened the door and reached into the glove box. Pulling out a few tools, she handed them to me.
“Hold these please.” She sat on the passenger’s side seat and began to scrape something near the window. “The VIN number identifies the car. I’m making it unreadable.”
After a few moments, she seemed satisfied with her work. She did the same thing to a sticker pasted on the driver’s side door, mangling it beyond recognition. Then she took a different tool out of my hands and went to the back of the van. When she returned, she handed me a thin piece of metal.
“It’s the license plate. Dump it somewhere, please. Don’t wander too far, just throw it in a hole or something.”
I did as she instructed. I went just far enough to find a spot where the forest was thickly carpeted with evergreen needles. Using my hooves, I dug into the dirt. I made a quick but deep hole, placed the plate inside, and covered it.
By the time I got back to the van, Claire had begun to cover it with assorted branches, vines, and other vegetation. The windshield was already hidden from view.
I mimicked her actions, focusing on the high roof of the car that she couldn’t reach. When we were about halfway done, she paused to unload the boxes from the back.
I helped, and we quickly unpacked the few things we had brought with us. Then we made short work of obscuring the rest of the van. I covered the roof, while she propped tall branches up against the sides. For good measure, we shook armfuls of fallen leaves over the surface, covering any gaps.
From a distance, no one would ever notice it was here. Since it was off the road, it was unlikely that anyone would think to investigate it. They’d have to be remarkably close to even realize it was present, as it was so well-camouflaged to the naked eye.
Short of a hiker wandering across its path, there was little reason it would ever be found. Even that seemed unlikely, as this remote stretch of the mountain had no signs of humans. I suspected that we were the first hikers it had seen in what might have been years.
With that accomplished, Claire stared down at our meager belongings. They weren’t much, but it would still be difficult to carry them up the mountainside.
“Put them on my back,” I urged her.
“Can you carry all this?” she asked.
I nodded.
It took some maneuvering to get everything arranged. Several times, she had to remove things to reposition them, realizing that it wasn’t all going to fit. But finally, after an hour of struggling and the assistance of a lot of rope, we were ready to proceed.
She kept her eyes peeled at first, and I could tell she was afraid of being seen. But the mountain was as isolated as she had promised, and there was no sign of another human around. By nature, I was very perceptive and alert when it came to evidence of people, and I felt quite confident in my assessment that this mountain was rarely frequented by anything larger than a deer. As we climbed higher and higher, she moved less cautiously, feeling more comfortable.
Even with the load on my back, I was big and strong enough to handle it. I moved easily, barely impaired by the extra weight. Claire, however, was exhausted. I could hardly blame her, as she had already been through a lot in the past few days. This was a terrible exertion for someone who had already worked so hard. The mental fatigue of driving had worn on her.
We climbed side by side, and I did my best to cheer her on and keep her moving. The trees were thick and dense, which at least kept us cool. We were sweating from the effort, but the comfortable temperature offered some relief.