Footpath

 

THE MORNING AFTER the rain, Odette went for a run. She took Georgie for a short walk first, and then deposited her back into the Coach before double-knotting the laces of her running shoes and heading back out. Odette’s breath preceded her like a little cloud as she picked up a jog just outside the Coach.

The campground consisted of a dozen or so inlets carved into the forest, each with an RV or trailer parked in it. They’d had to clear trees to make room for parking and to build the road that wound down the middle of the campground. Everywhere else the trees grew thick like hair.

All of the RVs sat still and dark; when Odette passed the farthest one, which bore a little sign reading CAMP HOST, and curved onto a stretch of the asphalt road that led out toward the main highway, she picked up her pace, lengthening her stride.

Mom had told her to stay off the main road, but a walking path ran alongside the highway, slightly lower than the road, carpeted by pine needles.

The path, soaked from last night’s rain, absorbed Odette’s footfalls. As tight and trapped as she had felt last night, that was exactly how free she felt now, breathing in the sharp, cold early-morning air, her muscles unwinding as they warmed. She could outrun anything right now, that was how strong she felt.