Untraceable

Survival Skill #28

The type of shelter needed depends on the equipment, terrain, and climate.

~

Directly in front of me, Mo flips on his light with it glowing under his chin. “Boo!”

I clutch my chest, checking to see if my heart has stopped or fallen out. I hit him with both hands in the chest. “Geez! You’re lucky I didn’t flip you over my shoulder.”

“Come on. You knew it was me.”

“Doesn’t matter! Any time someone jumps out in the dark, it freaks you out.”

“Sorry.” He squeezes my hand. “Come on, my place is over here.”

I stumble behind him as his boots crunch through the dead leaves.

He stops me with both hands and holds me still. “Stay here.” I stand solo for a few seconds, watching the shadows move around me until a lantern offers a reassuring light. “Time to relax.” Mo motions for me to sit down as he pokes a long stick into a heap of charred twigs.

Minutes later, twirling flames illuminate the area. It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust before I notice his man-made, lean-to shelter. A roof, made of leaves, nestled between two tall trees. Under the shelter, a piece of black tarp stretches along the ground. A rolled-up, army green sleeping bag and a wool blanket rest on the artificial floor.

He catches me staring. “Fancy what I’ve done with the place?”

“You have great taste. I’d say a little country mixed with a dash of rustic.”

He nods. “Spot on. That’s exactly what I was going for.”

I check out his sleeping quarters. “So no tent? This is where you stay—every night? Still seems a bit odd.”

“That coming from a girl who talks to a cranky bike named Luci.”

“Touché.” I can’t help but laugh, knowing he’s so right.

“Besides, I told you. I’m on field study for school.” Mo pours some water from his canteen into an iron pot and hangs it over the fire. “Cuppa tea?”

“Sure, but isn’t that a little formal for a fire pit?”

“Nothing but the best for you, Blossom.”

A few minutes later, he pours the steaming liquid and hands me a stainless steel cup. I welcome the warmth between my hands. Even though it’s the end of summer, the nights are growing cooler and being damp doesn’t help. I shiver while sipping the hot liquid, the strong black tea trailing warmth through my body. Even though I’m more of hot cocoa kinda gal, the tea is surprisingly good.

Mo reaches into his duffle bag and pulls out a dry t-shirt.

I whine. “Hey, no fair! How come you get to be dry?”

“Bloody hell. Have some patience, woman.” Mo strips off his wet shirt without any notice. A thin layer of moisture glistens on his ripped body. I ignore my urge to jump him and force my jaw to stay shut. Don’t care who you are, gaping mouths are never sexy. I keep my eyes on him. If I look away now, it’ll be obvious I’m uncomfortable. He slips both arms in the holes, before popping his head through the middle.

Then he tosses me a different shirt.

I don’t move quickly enough to catch it so the shirt lands over my face. I frown under the cotton. After today, “graceless” will be my new middle name. I pluck the draping shirt off my head. “You could’ve warned me.”

“Sorry.” Mo pinches his lips together, stifling a laugh.

I smile, wondering if my face is as red as it feels. “Okay, maybe I’m not the most coordinated person.” For some reason, around this guy, my brain won’t send the right messages to the right place in time.