THE WILD SEASON

Chapter 14

I've got myself wedged into the corner of the tent, the gun clenched between my knees. I hear Colt rustling around outside, and though I managed to fall into a restless sleep last night, I jerk awake the moment I hear him moving.

"Are you ever coming out?" he bellows.

I don't move a muscle.

As he unzips the entrance, I point the gun at the floor. Not at him, exactly. But a simple tip of the barrel...

As soon as the flaps part, Sloth bolts out.

"Damn cat," he mutters. "I'm coming in, all right? Don't freak—" Colt freezes when he sees the gun. I imagine he's hit with the same shock I felt last night.

"What are you doing with that?" he asks.

"You first."

Colt hesitates too long, and so I lift that gun up. Just a fraction.

"Put it down." His voice is calm, but I don't miss the way his shoulders tense.

"First, tell me why you brought a gun. And if I were you, I'd think long and hard about—"

The gun slips from my hands.

Colt snatches it and rolls the barrel downward. He breathes out a long, shaky breath and says, "Real smooth. Next time you threaten someone with a weapon, don't drop it." He cocks the gun, and I flinch. "And make sure it's loaded."

Colt shows me the empty chamber.

"Why'd you bring it?" I snap.

"Protection."

"From what?"

Colt raises an eyebrow, insinuating it might be me he needs protection from.

I laugh. I can't help it. "God, that's dark."

"We've got a dark past," he says, and the reminder slaps me across the cheek.

Colt stands up outside the tent and says, "There's ammo in the front pouch. I won't load it as long as you don't try to kill me in my sleep."

"No promises." I watch as Colt slips the gun into his waistband, and try to decide how much of what he says I should believe. And definitely thinking that if he keeps the gun, I should keep the ammo.

"You know in Arizona it's legal to carry a gun," Colt says. "But it's illegal to carry nun chucks."

"That's not true." I slip the bullets into my pocket and step outside.

"We need to dig a fire pit," he announces, pulling his hair into an elastic band.

"Pass," I say. "I've got my own plans. And for the record, we don't need to do this whole teamwork thing. You do you, and I'll do me. Cool?"

Colt eyes me incredulously. "Is that Kanye? Did you just quote Kanye West?"

I shrug and I grab the notebook from my backpack along with my drafting pencils and ruler. As the sun warms my shoulders, and birds dart between the trees, and Sloth sniffs the air, Colt and I work in silence, stopping only when I reach into my hiking bag and pull out a peanut-butter PowerBar.

Colt looks over, his face covered in dirt and his fingernails a monstrosity after three hours of hard labor. Though he licks his lips with hunger, he won't ask me if I have another one.