A Smidge of Magic

Chapter 7

Hours later, with dusk fast approaching, Ian accepted that he was good and thoroughly lost. He powered on his phone several times as he'd hiked, hoping to get even one bar to check his location or make a call. No such luck availed him. Even more troubling, he still hadn't found a source of water. That was rapidly becoming more important than anything else.

Under normal circumstances, he could rely on his trusty Wilderness Scout experience. He could use it to identify deer or critter tracks and follow those to find a source of water. And approximately zilch about today fell under normal circumstances.

The few prints that he did find looked as though they belonged in the cryptozoological exhibit at the local Tin-Foil Hat Society. Nothing was recognizable, and it was starting to make Ian uncomfortable. The larger tracks though, the ones with the claws, they were the most unsettling.

"Probably those Bigfoot hoaxers," Ian muttered, "Yeah, that's it. Out in the middle of the woods, where no one will ever see their handiwork." He let out a nervous chuckle at his joke. He trudged on knowing that as long as he could still be sarcastic, things couldn't be all that dire.

The dense forest canopy had long since hidden the mountain peak, and sun, from sight, leaving him guideless. The underbrush grew denser as he walked, and now constantly snagged at his feet. The mere act of walking became a challenge as every trip sent a jolt of pain through his broken arm. His sense of unease, compounded by alien bird calls and predatory growls of the forest, grew until it bordered on paranoia. Even the rustle of wind through the leaves sounded wrong.

"I'm not afraid, I'm just... concerned," Ian said reassuringly to the voice in his head. A voice which was busy explaining to him all the reasons he should be terrified.

He avoided the strange hopscotching clawed tracks for concern of coming across the owner. His dry mouth and injured arm, however, were overtaking his concerns. He could feel the skin starting to crack around his lips and the aching dryness in his throat as he tried to swallow and couldn't. For the first time in his life, Ian understood true thirst. A savage staccato pounded rang his head as another hour ticked by. He had to find water soon.

Just a little while longer, he blindly promised his weary body. Frustrated Ian stopped, closed his eyes tight, and spun around slowly until he no longer had any sense of his previous direction. He performed another spin and when he felt a tug in his gut he opened his eyes.

He walked straight towards the tug, hoping this choice would turn his luck around, and would not be the last one he ever made. As if on cue, an invigorating breeze burst through the trees. The leaves rustled as though they were applauding his efforts. And behind the applause the wind brought with it the sweetest of sounds, the gentle lapping of water against a shore. He pressed on, moving towards the glorious sound with renewed hope and determination.

Ian stumbled through the underbrush, using his walking stick to beat a path through the confounding brambles. The foliage broke into a clearing, revealing the veritable oasis within. A perfectly round lake with a thin strip of muddy shoreline encircling it.

He knew that he should take the time to start a fire and boil the water, but he favored the potential health risks to passing out. He moved toward the edge of the water and fell to his knees with a wet smack. Perhaps it was the water's clarity or lack of garbage floating along the shore, but he felt certain it was safe to drink. Using his good arm, he plunged a hand into the cool water and brought it to his lips.

Ian's eyes went wide as the water hit his tongue. It was sweet, cool, and instantly made him feel better. He drank greedily from the lake, unable to control himself. Every mouthful made the pounding rhythm in his head recede, and rejuvenated his strength. He let out a chuckle of relief, which slowly shifted into a mad cackle. He couldn't believe his good fortune. While Ian was busy slaking his thirst, the setting sun had cast everything in the deep purple shades of twilight.