Tonight…
My leg still aches on nights like this. It’s not the weather. It’s not anything physical at all. It’s my body desperately trying to tell me to stay fucking clear of this kind of terrain.
“You okay?” Jason asks the question casually.
“Fine,” I say. I’m not fine. I’m angry, and I’m scared for Aslin. There are no snipers up here, but there are tigers and crevasses. There’s cold and wind, and those last two factors alone can be lethal, especially now that it is starting to spit. The weather can change in a second on this mountain range, and rarely for the better.
“Do we assume she stayed on the path? Or do you think she just wandered somewhere?”
“I have no idea. The path isn’t exactly well marked. Did she think the village was up high? Or did she think she just needed to go more or less straight?”
“If you have any idea what she thinks, you’re ahead of me. Girl makes no damn sense,” Jason says. We’re scanning the mountainside with binoculars and night vision. The potential area is vast, especially if she fell. It’s easy to twist an ankle on loose rock or encounter a prowling animal. There are tigers in these regions, but it’s not just tigers we need to watch out for. Mountain lions prowl this terrain, and they have been opportunistic before.
Aslin is not prepared to face the reality of the wild. She’s a snack for any predator who chances across her path and smells her particular brand of delicious femaleness. Which brings me to another possibility, bandits. People don’t think of bandits as a modern-day issue, but with villages dotted across mountains and valleys, and people traveling between them with wares mostly held on their backs or on the backs of beasts of burden, the opportunity for theft is irresistible to some.
“ASLIN!” I shout her name to the wind. It is carried a little distance before being carried back to me on the waking wind. It is starting to blow more heavily now, little shards of icy water being whipped against our faces. The wind chill factor is only going to increase.
“BRAT!” Jason calls out.
That brings a hint of a smile to my lips, but just a hint. This is bad. This is Very. Very. Bad. If we don’t find her soon, the weather could close in so bad we have no chance of finding her at all. Her chances of surviving without shelter out here overnight are basically nil. I am forced to face the fact that we might have lost her forever. It's not a useful thought, but I carry it with me every step of the way.
Jason
Absolute little shit. I am going to beat her ass when I find her. She’s not leaving our sight again, that’s for sure. Soren and I need about three other guys to keep track of her. That’s what happens when you’re dealing with a complete rogue. I’ve known from the first moment Aslin pushed me into the river she was going to be a handful, and I doubt this’ll be the last curveball she throws us. As long as she’s around, we’re going to be living life on high alert.
I see Soren stumble a fraction. It’s his fucking leg. He says it doesn’t hurt, but we both have scars, seen and unseen from our service. We figured starting this remote boot camp vacation would allow us to make good money, not have to deal with too many people, and avoid the society neither one of us really fits in with anymore.
Aslin fits with us in a way most people don’t. Yes, she’s a little shit. Yes, she’s a liar. No, I don’t trust her at all, but when she’s around the camp it feels more like home than it ever has before. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is that makes her feel like ours, but I think she might be ours.
“Is that smoke?”
I point toward an outcrop of rocks. Soren doesn’t say anything. He just starts running toward it. His leg doesn’t seem to hurt anymore. He runs like a gazelle. Long legs. Powerful strides. He recovered from his wounds well. All of them. We both did. At least, we can pretend we did at times like these.
There is smoke. I’m afraid it’s from a local trader or some other source, but a pink piece of fabric flutters over the outcropping. It’s Aslin. I’m sure of it. Soren’s shout of joy assures me.
Aslin used rocks to turn her windbreaker into a tent roof and started a fire with what was at hand, which was some moss, a bundle of hundred dollar bills, and her shoe. The shoe was actually a good idea. Made a nasty black smoke you couldn’t help seeing.
She wipes a tear off her cheek and forces a smile at us. “Hey, guys,” she says. “What are you doing out here?”